What is the difference between Michael Jackson and a grocery bag? One is white, plastic, and dangerous to children. You put groceries in the other.
Why did Osama Bin Laden kill his wife? When she spread her legs he saw bush.
Q: What is the difference between baby and knitting? A: Knitting is weaved by two needles and one ball, but the baby has been made with one needle and two balls!
Who's the most famous Jewish cook in history? Hitler.
So a little kid and a child molester start walking into a forest. They keep walking for what seems like hours, and it gets darker and darker and darker, and the forest gets deeper and deeper and deeper. The kid turns to the child molester and he says "Gee mister, it sure is scary out here!" The child molester says "How do you think I feel, kid? I'm gonna have to walk out of this forest by myself!"
The best thing after an intensive argument is the peace-sex. But I hate when I argue with my father-in-law.
A doctor from the inner city was conversing with an old friend from med school at a cafe when he said, "Man, can I tell you something?" His friend nods. "Sure." "Okay, so the other day I had this one really hot, foreign patient, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since..." He goes on to tell his friend everything about her, from her long blond hair and ability to speak fluent French, to her shimmering blue eyes and soft skin. His friend seemed more disgusted with each passing moment. "Dude, that is not cool." The doctor, indignant, defended himself. "What's wrong with that? Lots of doctors are attracted to their patients." His friend simply shook his head and replied, "Maybe, but I guarantee you none of those doctors were pediatricians..."
Yesterday I accidentally hit a little kid with my car. It wasn't serious — nobody saw me.
Two Middle East mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a plate of tabouli and a pint of goat’s milk. The older of the mothers pulls a bag out of her purse and starts flipping through photos. And they start reminiscing. "This is my oldest son Mohammed. He would be 24 years old now." "Yes, I remember him as a baby" says the other mother cheerfully. "He’s a martyr now though" mum confides. "Oh, so sad, dear" says the other. "And this is my second son Kalid. He would be 21." "Oh, I remember him," says the other happily, "he had such curly hair when he was born." "He’s a martyr too" says mum quietly. "Oh, gracious me…" says the other. "And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He would be 18," she whispers. "Yes" says the friend enthusiastically, "I remember when he first started school." "He’s a martyr also," says mum, with tears in her eyes. After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully at the photographs and says, "They blow up so fast, don’t they?"
I'm going trick or treating with my mum tonight. It's the only time I can take her out as she's been dead for ten years.