He is in a lot of pain.
He still has the right to remain silent.
He rasped, "Cuz they’re still alive!"
I instantly stopped the car and entered the store.
Unfortunately for me, a cop saw me doing this and arrested me on the spot.
He charged me with braking and entering.
He’s a total night mayor.
“I must have taken Lief off my census”.
Twelve individuals have been attacked in the last 48 hours.
The Police have announced that the attacker could be following some kind of pattern
And the people can’t stand it.
But I think they are on the way out.
He is probably going to face time
I was in charge of the fencing. The construction site was almost finished, and it was only this and the landscaping remaining. I did the first couple posts, but then I went to lunch, and when I came back, they were gone. I did as much as I could until the day ended, and I went home. I came back the next day, and they were all gone. I decided to speak to the contractor, and when I told him about the posts, he said “Oh, yeah. There’s tons of reposting on this site.”
The New River Gorge.
She made me promise that when she died, I would plant her strawberries on her grave so that people could enjoy them when they visited. When she passed away I fulfilled my promise. She’s dead and berried.
They’ve been working tirelessly to find him
To brighten things up a bit, I'll be going as The Sun.
It’s a mid-wife crisis.
Turns out they don't accept I O U's.
It was open mike night.
The sheriff decided that he needed to stop them so he rounded up his deputies and they rode out in search of the gang.
After a couple of days everyone was tired and hungry so one of the deputies rode up to sheriff and said “Look sheriff we are all too tired, why don’t you guys rest up here and I’ll ride 4 miles north and two miles east and see if I can’t find us some grub?, I’ll be back by morning”
The sheriff agrees and off the deputy rides 4 miles north and two miles east.
The next morning the deputy returns with all his packs full of bacon! The sheriff says “where the hell did you get all that bacon out here in the middle of nowhere!”
Deputy says “well you see sheriff I rode 4 miles north and 2 miles east and I swear to god there’s this bacon tree just sitting there! A tree that is full of bacon!”
“Bullshit!” Says the sheriff “you stay here I’m going to check this out!”
So off the sheriff rides the same as the deputy did.
The next morning the deputy see’s the sheriff crawling towards the camp with arrows sticking out of his back.
Deputy says to the sheriff “ Boss what the hell happened!”
The sheriff looks up from the ground and says “BACON TREE, BACON TREE, that wasn’t a damn bacon tree you idiot it was a Hambush!”
I was going to call for an ambulance, but that might've been asking for trouble.
MOM: Oh my! Who!?
DAD: Uh, I can't remember... I think her name was Reese something?
MOM: WITHERSPOON!!!!!???????
DAD: No, it was with a knife...
It was a shit zoo.
'UPS Truck Shun of Justice'
It was a grassroots movement.
People are dying to get in
It's a purse anole day for her.
Credit: Brevity by Dan Thompson for May 02, 2020
She said "What's he doing? Is this normal??? It isn't even Easter".
I said "Oh him? That's Egg-Sell-Ent"
She asked the pastor of a local church if he knew of any houses with rooms to rent that were close to town, but out in the country. The pastor kindly drove her out to see a house with a room to rent. She loved the house and decided to rent the room. Then, the lady returned to her home in England to make her final preparations to move to Switzerland.
When she arrived back home, the thought occurred to her that she had not seen a “W.C.” in the room or even down the hall. (A W.C. is short for “water closet” and is what the English call a toilet.) So she immediately emailed the pastor to ask him where the “W.C.” is located.
The Swiss pastor had never heard of a “W.C.,” and so he Googled the abbreviation and found an article titled “Wayside Chapels.” Thinking that the English lady was asking about a country church to attend near her new home, the pastor responded as follows:
Ms. Smith,
I look forward to your move. Regarding your question about the location of the W.C., the closest W.C. is situated only two miles from the room you have rented, in the center of a beautiful grove of pine trees. The W.C. has a maximum occupancy of 229 people, but not that many people usually go on weekdays. I suggest you plan to go on Thursday evenings when there is a sing-along. The acoustics are remarkable and the happy sounds of so many people echo throughout the W.C.
Sunday mornings are extremely crowded. The locals tend to arrive early and many bring their lunches to make a day of it. Those who arrive just in time can usually be squeezed into the W.C. before things start, but not always. Best to go early if you can!
It may interest you to know that my own daughter was married in the W.C. and it was there that she met her husband. I remember how everyone crowded in to sit close to the bride and groom. There were two people to a seat ordinarily occupied by one, but our friends and family were happy to share. I will admit that my wife and I felt particularly relieved when it was over. We were truly wiped out.
Because of my responsibilities in town, I can’t go as often as I used to. In fact, I haven’t been in well over a year. I can tell you I really miss regularly going to the W.C. Let’s plan on going together for your first visit. I can reserve us seats where you will be seen by all.
Sincerely,
Pastor Kurt Meier
I hear his sound is very Seoulful and reminiscent of the 70’s.
Best cellar
He was a Marshal artist.
His name is Howie snippem. Specialist in Circumcisions. He works for tips.
Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.
Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.
Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.
Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.
One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.
Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.
“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.
The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.
“Yes of course” replied Trevor
... keep reading on reddit ➡The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave.
Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.
When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."
He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."
So the magistrate kept listening, "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..."
Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate.
He stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery, "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."
It’s all over town.
A real laughing stalk.
ex and The City
He was reeking haddock on the neighborhood.
It’s all about raisin awareness l
It was too heavy to carry !
They sure have a roundabout way of doing things. 🤦🏻♂️
It was an aye-sore.
It's call Purcolator.
They call it the Universal Cereal Bus.
I think he was a lost Clause to begin with.
The ol' factory region.
Luckily, no soles were lost.
From Plauge inc.
He was arrested when cops saw people actually letting him in.
A romaine Catholic priest.
I don’t know how they sleep at night.
Because everyone there only ever suffers from minor injuries.
I made a mental note to pick up more detergent next time I'm in town.
Me: “Pandemic song? Beatles? Huh?”
Son: “You know... We All Live In a Yellow Quarantine...”
Me: “GAAAAAA!!!!”
I’ve never been more proud. The student has become the teacher.
Oh, and good luck getting that out of your head.
Disaster.
Me: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Friend: Why?
Me: To visit the town idiot.
A few minutes later...
Me: Knock, Knock.
Friend: Who’s there?
Me: The Chicken
You moan now but I suspect you are already planning to use this one.
Because you’re already cold
for all in tents and porpoises.
Three guys are drinking in a bar when a drunk comes in, staggers up to the counter, and points at the guy in the middle, shouting, "Your mom's the best sex in town!" Everyone expects a fight, but the guy ignores him, so the drunk wanders off and bellies up to the bar at the far end. Ten minutes later, the drunk comes back, points at the same guy, and says, "I just did your mom, and it was sw-eeeeet!" Again, the guy refuses to take the bait, and the drunk goes back to the far end of the bar. Ten minutes later, he comes back and announces, "Your mom liked it!" Finally, the guy interrupts. "Go home, dad, you're drunk.”
Scientists identified it as a Mileysaurus.
It can offer a whole lot more.
He keeps voting Nay
I might go if I've got nothing on.
punchline
That's the paunch-line.
It’s all over town.
I hear it has thousands of stories
He still has the right to remain silent...
He still has the right to remain silent.
But I think they are on the way out.
He still has the right to remain silent.
He rasped, "Cuz they’re still alive!"
MOM: Oh my! Who!?
DAD: Uh, I can't remember... I think her name was Reese something?
MOM: WITHERSPOON!!!!!???????
DAD: No, it was with a knife...
MOM: Oh my! Who!?
DAD: Uh, I can't remember... I think her name was Reese something?
MOM: WITHERSPOON!!!!!???????
DAD: No, it was with a knife
MOM: Oh my! Who!?
DAD: Uh, I can't remember... I think her name was Reese something?
MOM: WITHERSPOON!!!!!???????
DAD: No, it was with a knife
He still has the right to remain silent.
People are just dying to get in there.
The priest bent close to the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music coming from the grave.
Frightened, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.
When the magistrate arrived, he bent his ear to the grave, listened for a moment, and said, "Ah, yes, that's Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, being played backwards."
He listened a while longer, and said, "There's the Eighth Symphony, and it's backwards, too. Most puzzling."
So the magistrate kept listening, "There's the Seventh... the Sixth... the Fifth..."
Suddenly the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate.
He stood up and announced to the crowd that had gathered in the cemetery, "My fellow citizens, there's nothing to worry about. It's just Beethoven decomposing."
DAD: No, it was with a knife...
MOM: Oh my! Who!?
DAD: Uh, I can't remember... I think her name was Reese something?
MOM: WITHERSPOON!!!!!???????
DAD: No, it was with a knife...
DAD: I was just listening to the radio on my way in to town, apparently an actress just killed herself.
MOM: Oh my! Who!?
DAD: Uh, I can't remember... I think her name was Reese something?
MOM: WITHERSPOON!!!!!???????
DAD: No, it was with a knife...
