Pop Jokes / Recent Jokes
Son: Pop... what is the Ramayan stuff that all my friends in school talk about..
Pop: So, like this dude had, like, a big cool kingdom and people liked him. But, like, his step mom, or somethin', was kind of a bitch, and she forced her husband to, like, you know, send this cool dude, he was Ram, to some national forest or reserve or somethin'.
Since he was going, for like, somethin' like more than 10 years or so, he decided to take his wife and his bro along. You know... so that they could all chill out together. But dude, the forest was reeeeeeal scary shit, really man, they had monkeys and devils and shit like that.
But this dude, Ram, kicked their ass with darts, bows and arrows, so it was fine. But then some bad boys, some jerk called Ravan, picks up his babe (Sita) and lures her away to his hood. And boy, were our man, and his bro Lakshman, pissed! And you don't piss this son-of-a-gunz' coz, he just kicks ass and like, all the gods were with more...
What's a zombie's favorite pop song? Dead sails in the sunset.
Put THIS in your toaster...
Veteran Pillsbury spokesman Pop N. Fresh died yesterday. A severe yeast infection is blamed for shortening his life. He was 71.
Fresh was buried in one of the largest funeral ceremonies in recent years. Dozens of celebrities turned out, including Mrs. Butterworth, the California Raisins, Hungry Jack, Betty Crocker, and the Hostess Twinkies. The graveside was piled high with flours as longtime friend Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy, describing Fresh as a man who' never knew how much he was kneaded.'
Fresh rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with many turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes, and loafing around. Still, even as a crusty old man, he was a roll model for millions.
Fresh is survived by his second wife, a real tart. They have two children and one in the oven. The funeral will be tomorrow, at 350 for about 20 minutes.
What's the witches favourite pop group? Broomski Beat!
Chemistry Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas,
The lab was quite still;
Not a Bunsen was burning
(Nor had they the will).
The test tubes were placed
In their racks with great care,
In hopes Father Chemistry
Soon would be there.
The students were sleeping
So sound in their dorms,
All dreaming of fluids
And Crystalline forms.
Lab-Aids in their aprons
And I in my smock.
When outside the lab
There arose such a roar
I leaped from my stool
And fell flat on the floor.
Out ot the fire escape
All of us flew.
What was the commotion?
Not one of knew.
The flood-lights shone out
O're the campus so bright
It looked like old Stockholm
On Nobel Prize Night.
My fume-blinded eyes
Then viewed (dare I say?)
Eight anions pulling
A water-trough sleigh.
And holding the bonds
Tied to each one of them
Was a more...