Chuck Norris is a hunter. But Chuck Norris does not hunt. That implies the possibility of failure.
Demons don't hunt Chuck Norris... He is hunting them!
Chuck Norris does not hunt because the word hunting infers the probability of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.
A meteor did not kill the dinosaurs, Chuck Norris just went on a hunting trip.
Two hunters were dragging their dead deer back to their car. Another hunter approached pulling his along too. "Hey, I don’t want to tell you how to do something… but I can tell you that it’s much easier if you drag the deer in the other direction. Then the antlers won’t dig into the ground." After the third hunter left, the two decided to try it. A little while later one hunter said to the other, "You know, that guy was right. This is a lot easier!" "Yeah, but we’re getting farther from the truck," the other added.
Chuck Norris got a perfect SAT score by just putting his name on the paper...
If at first you don't succeed, you are not Chuck Norris.
There was no volcanic eruption in Iceland - Chuck Norris opened the BBQ season.
A big city lawyer went duck hunting in rural North Alberta. He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer's field on the other side of a fence. As the lawyer climbed over the fence, an elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing. The litigator responded, "I shot a duck and it fell in this field, and now I'm going to retrieve it." The old farmer Peter replied, "This is my property, and you are not coming over here." The indignant lawyer said, "I am one of the best trial lawyers in Canada and, if you don't let me get that duck, I'll sue you and take everything you own." The old farmer smiled and said, "Apparently, you don't know how we settle disputes in Alberta. We settle small disagreements like this with the 'Three Kick Rule.' The lawyer asked, "What is the 'Three Kick Rule'?" The Farmer replied, "Well, because the dispute occurs on my land, I get to go first. I kick you three times and then you kick me three times and so on back and forth until someone gives up." The lawyer quickly thought about the proposed contest and decided that he could easily take the old codger. He agreed to abide by the local custom. The old farmer slowly climbed down from the tractor and walked up to the attorney. His first kick planted the toe of his heavy steel-toed work boot into the lawyer's groin and dropped him to his knees! His second kick to the midriff sent the lawyer's last meal gushing from his mouth. The lawyer was on all fours when the farmer's third kick to his rear end, sent him face-first into a fresh cow pie. Summoning every bit of his will and remaining strength the lawyer very slowly managed to get to his feet. Wiping his face with the arm of his jacket, he said, "Okay, you old fart. Now it's my turn." The old farmer smiled and said, "Nah, I give up. You can have the duck."
Chuck Norris is the reason Waldo is hiding.
The big-game hunter walked into the bar and bragged to everyone about his skills as a hunter. The man was undoubtedly a good shot and no one could dispute that. But then he said that he could recognize any animal’s skin by feeling it, and he could tell what caliber rifle was used to shoot it by locating the bullet hole. This was a bit too much for the other customers, and soon a heated argument started. The hunter said that he was willing to prove it if they would put up the drinks, and the BET was on. They blindfolded him and took him to his first animal skin. After feeling it for a few moments, he announced, “Springbok.” Then he felt for the bullet hole and declared, “And it was shot with a 22 rifle.” He was right! The others could not believe it and the argument was even hotter than before. When someone suggested that he must have peeped, he said that he was prepared to do it again for another round. So they blindfolded him again, very thoroughly this time, and they brought a skin that someone happened to have in the trunk of his car. He took a bit longer this time and then said, “Kalahari Lion.” Fingering the bullet hole, he added, “The rifle was a 308.” He was right again! This only made the crowd more curious, and he had to prove his skills over and over again, every time winning a round of drinks. Finally he staggered home, bombed out of his mind, and went to sleep. The next morning he got up and saw in the mirror that he had one hell of a shiner. So he said to his wife, “Listen, I know I was drunk last night, but not too drunk to know that I didn’t get into a fight. So where did I get this black eye?” His wife replied angrily, “From me!” “What did I do?” he asked. She replied, “You got into bed and put your hand inside my panties. Then you fiddled around a bit and announced, ‘Skunk, killed with an ax!’”