Compulsion Jokes / Recent Jokes

Bill worked in a pickle factory. He had been employed there for a number of years when he came home one day and confess to his wife that he had a terrible compulsion. He had an urge to stick his penis into the pickle slicer. His wife suggested that he should see a sex therapist to talk about it, but Bill indicated that he'd be too embarrassed. He vowed to overcome the compulsion on his own. One day a few weeks later, Bill came home absolutely ashen. His wife could see at once that something was seriously wrong. "What's wrong, Bill?" she asked. "Do you remember that I told you how I had this tremendous urge to put my penis into the pickle slicer?" "Oh, Bill, you didn't." "Yes, I did." "My God, Bill, what happened?" "I got fired." "No, Bill. I mean, what happened with the pickle slicer?" "Oh, she got fired too."

Bill worked in a pickle factory. He had been employed there for a number of years, when he came home one day and confessed to his wife that he had a terrible compulsion. He had an urge to stick his penis into the pickle slicer.

His wife suggested that he should see a sex therapist to talk about it, but Bill indicated that he'd be too embarrassed. He vowed to overcome the compulsion on his own. One day a few weeks later, Bill came home absolutely ashen.

His wife could see at once that something was seriously wrong. "What's wrong, Bill?" she asked.

"Do you remember that I told you how I had this tremendous urge to put my penis into the pickle slicer?"

"Oh, Bill, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"My God, Bill, what happened?"

"I got fired."

"No, Bill. I mean, what happened with the pickle slicer?"

"Oh, she got fired more...

A man walked into a bar and ordered a glass of white wine. He took a sip of the wine, then tossed the remainder into the bartender's face. Before the bartender could recover from the surprise, the man began weeping.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm really sorry. I keep doing that to bartenders. I can't tell you how embarrassing it is to have a compulsion like this."
Far from being angry, the bartender was sympathetic. Before long, he was suggesting that the man see an analyst about his problem.
"I happen to have the name of a Psychoanalyst," the bartender said. "My brother and my wife have both been treated by him, and they say he's as good as they get."
The man wrote down the name of the Doctor, thanked the bartender, and left. The bartender smiled, knowing he'd done a good deed for a fellow human being.
Six months later, the man was back. "Did you do what I suggested?" the bartender asked, serving the glass of more...

Bill worked in a pickle factory. He had been employed there for a number of years when he came home one day and confessed to his wife that he had a terrible compulsion. He had an urge to stick his penis into the pickle slicer.
His wife suggested that he should see a sex therapist to talk about it, but Bill indicated that he'd be too embarrassed. He vowed to overcome the compulsion on his own.
One day a few weeks later, Bill came home absolutely ashen. His wife could see at once that something was seriously wrong. "What's wrong, Bill?" she asked. "Do you remember that I told you how I had this tremendous urge to put my penis into the pickle slicer?" "Oh, Bill, you didn't." "Yes, I did." "My God, Bill, what happened?" "I got fired." "No, Bill. I mean, what happened with the pickle slicer?" "Oh, she got fired too."

The stunning blonde had gone to her student advisor for some course problems, but seemed to be only half paying attention to his replies.
"Are you feeling OK?" he asked.
"Well, to be honest, I have this compulsion to have sex with every man I meet." she admitted. "Is there a name for my condition?"
"Why yes, there is." he said, as he picked her up and began carrying her to the couch. "It's called 'Good News'."

A man entered a bar and ordered a drink. He took a sip of the drink, then promptly threw the remainder in the bartender's face. Before the bartender could recover from the surprise, the man began sobbing, "I'm so sorry. I keep doing that to bartenders. You have no idea how embarrassing it is to have a compulsion like this."
Rather than being angry, the bartender was sympathetic. Before long, he was suggesting that the man see a psychoanalyst about his problem. "I happen to have the name of a psychoanalyst," the bartender said. "My brother has been treated by him and says he's as good as they come."
The man wrote down the name of the doctor, thanked the bartender, and left.
A few months later, the man returned to the bar. "Did you do what I suggested?" the bartender asked, serving the man his drink.
"I certainly did," the man said. "I've been seeing the doctor twice a week." He then took a sip of his drink, more...