Jokes tagged car
A man was badly injured in a car accident. The entire left half of his body was torn off. He was taken to the hospital and examined. The doctors said he was all right. The nurses said there wasn't much left.
When can your car stop the quickest?
When it's brakefast time.
When it's brakefast time.
A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes tothe monastery, knocks on the door, and says, "My car broke down. Do youthink I could stay the night?" The monks graciously accept him, feed himdinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears astrange sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, butthey say, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk." The man is disappointedbut thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way.Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery.The monks accept him, feed him, even fix his car. That night, he hears thesame strange noise that he had heard years earlier. The next morning, heasks what it was, but the monks reply, "We can't tell you. You're not amonk."The man says, "All right, all right. I'm dying to know. If the onlyway I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I becomea monk?"The monks reply, "You must travel the earth and tell us how manyblades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When youfind these numbers, you will become a monk."The man sets about his task.Forty five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery.He says, "I have travelled the earth and have found what you have asked for.There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sandpebbles on the earth."The monks reply, "Congratulations. You are now amonk. We shall now show you the way to the sound." The monks lead the man toa wooden door, where the head monk says, "The sound is right behind thatdoor."The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, "Realfunny. May I have the key?" The monks give him the key, and he opens thedoor. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone. The man demandsthe key to the stone door. The monks give him the key, and he opens it, onlyto find a door made of ruby. He demands another key from the monks, whoprovide it. Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire. Soit went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, andamethyst.Finally, the monks say, "This is the last key to the last door."The man is relieved to no end. He unlocks the door, turns the knob, andbehind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.But I can't tell you what it is, because you're not a monk.
A man had a son, but he was born as only a head. The man lovedhis son very much and took care of him, even though he was only a head.When the son turned 21, the man took him to a bar."One whiskey for my boy, barkeep!" said the man."You don't want to do that," said the bartender."He's a man, just turned 21! Get him a whiskey!""I'm serious," the bartender insisted. "It's a bad idea.""Just do it!" ordered the man.So the bartender got the head a whiskey, and when he drank it, hesprouted a body! The head and his dad were excited, but the bartenderwasn't pleased."Wow, another one of those for my boy!" yelled the man."It's a really bad idea," the bartender stated."Just give him a stupid whiskey! Geez, I'm payin', ain't I?" said theman, a little frustrated now.So the bartender gave the son a whiskey, and he grew an arm! The father madethe bartender give more whiskey to the head, and he grew another arm, a leg,another leg, and finally the head was a whole person.The son was so excited that he ran into the street, screaming andshouting happily, and was hit by a car and died."I told you," the bartender said. "You should've quit while he was a head."
When is a car not a car?
When it turns into a parking lot.
When it turns into a parking lot.
This disheveled-looking guy walks into a bar. He sits down and orders astiff drink. The bartender says, "What's eating you?"The guy says, "My wife left me this morning, I got laid off this afternoon,my car got wrecked earlier tonight, and my dog died in the vet's office."The bartender says, "Wow! I forgot the punchline!"
I used to own a car that never seemed to run properly. It was a brokeswagen.
A guy spent five years traveling all around the world making adocumentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he had every singlenative dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film -- or so hethought. He wound up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he popped into apub for a well earned beer.He got talking to one of the local Aborigines and told him about hisproject. The Aborigine asked the guy what he thought of the Butcher Dance."Butcher Dance?" he said, confused. "What's that?""What? You didn't see the Butcher Dance?""No, I've never heard of it.""Mate, you're crazy," the Aborigine replied. "How can you say you filmedevery native dance if you haven't seen the Butcher Dance?""Umm. I got a Corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what youmean?""No, no. The Butcher Dance is much more important than the Corroborree.""Oh," the man said, his curiosity piqued. "Well how can I see this ButcherDance then?""Mate, the Butcher Dance is way out in the wilderness. It'll take you manydays of travel to go see it.""Look, I've been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepestdarkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances.Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance.""Ok, mate," the Aborigine replied, shrugging. "You drive north along thehighway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles, you'll see a dirt trackveer off to left. Follow the dirt track for 126 miles till you see big hugedead gum tree -- the biggest tree you've ever seen. Here you gotta leave car,because it's much too rough for driving. You strike out due westinto the setting sun. Walk three days till you hit a creek. You follow thiscreek to the northwest. After two days you'll find where the creek flows out ofsome rocky mountains, but it's much too difficult to cross the mountains there,though. So you head south for half day until you see a pass through mountains.The pass is very difficult and very dangerous. It'll take you two, maybethree days to get through it. On the other side, head northwest for fourdays until you reach a big huge rock -- twenty feet high and shaped like a man'shead. From the rock, walk due west for two days, and then you'll find thevillage. You'll be able to see the Butcher Dance there."So the guy grabbed his camera crew and equipment and headed out. After acouple of hours, he found the dirt track. The track was in a shocking state,and he was forced to crawl along at a snail's pace, and so he didn't reach thetree until dusk, where he was forced to set up camp for the night.He set out bright and early the following morning. His spirits were high,and he was excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysteriousdance that he had never heard mention of before. True to the directions hehad been given, he reached the creek after three days and followed it foranother two, until he reached the rocky mountains.The merciless sun was starting to take its toll, and the spirits of bothhimself and his crew were starting to flag; but wearily they trudged on,finally finding the pass through the mountains. Nothing would prevent him fromcompleting his life's dream. The mountains proved to be every bit astreacherous as their guide had said, and at times they despaired of evergetting their bulky equipment through. But after three and a half days ofback breaking effort, they finally forced their way clear and continued theirlong trek.When they reached the huge rock, four days later, their water was running low,and their feet were covered with blisters, but they steeled themselves andheaded out on the last leg of their journey. Two days later they virtuallystaggered into the village. To their relief, the natives welcomed them andfed them and gave them fresh water, and they began to feel like new men. Oncehe recovered enough, the guy went before the village chief and told him thathe came to film their Butcher Dance."Oh mate," he said. "Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. Youtoo late. You miss dance.""Well, when do you hold the next dance?""Not till next year.""Well, I've come all this way. Couldn't you just hold an extra dancefor me tonight?""No, no, no!" the chief exclaimed. "Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once ayear. You want see Butcher Dance, you come back next year."Understandably, the guy was devastated, but he had no other option but tohead back to civilization and back home.The following year, he headed back to Australia and, determined not to missout again, set out a week earlier than before. He was quite willing tospend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensurehe was present to witness it.But right from the start, things went wrong. Heavy rains that yearturned the dirt track to mud, and the car got bogged down every few miles.Finally they had to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud onfoot almost half the distance to the tree. They reached the creek and themountains without any further problems, but halfway through the mountain pass,they were struck by a fierce storm that raged for several days, during whichthey were forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until itsubsided.Then, before they had traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of thecrew sprained his ankle badly, slowing down the rest of their journeygreatly. Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they had been traveling,they staggered into the village right at noon."The Butcher Dance!" the man gasped. "Please don't tell me I'm too late tosee it!"The chief recognized him and said, "No, white fella. Butcher Dance performedtonight. You come just in time."Relieved beyond measure, the crew spent the rest of the afternoon settingup their equipment and preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid. Asdusk fell, the natives started to cover their bodies in white paint and adornthemselves in all manner of birds' feathers and animal skins. Once darknesshad settled fully over the land, the natives formed a circle around a hugeroaring fire. A deathly hush descended over performers and spectators alikeas a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entirebody entered the circle and began to chant."What's he doing?" the man whispered to the chief."Hush," the chief whispered back. "You first white man ever to see mostsacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spiritsof the dream world watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through ourdance, and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watchover us and protect us for another year."The chanting of the holy man reached a stunning crescendo before he removedhimself from the circle. The rhythmic pounding of drums boomedout across the land, and the natives began to sway to the stirring rhythm.The guy became caught up in the fervor of the moment himself. This wasit. He realized beyond all doubt that his wait had not been in vain. Hewas about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement everconceived by mankind.The chief strode to his position in the circle and, in a big boomingvoice, started to sing: "You butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right armout. You butch yer right arm in, and you shake it all about...."
There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary littleboy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing,destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down tothe bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friendshuddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them,"What's the Purple Wombat?""You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the children exclaimeddisgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy,always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy,confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children."Hey, Mister Bus Driver!" one of the chldren shouted. "Billy doesn't knowwhat the Purple Wombat is!"The bus driver turned around abruptly. "You don't know what the PurpleWombat is?" he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in thevery back of the bus, all by himself.Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went toclass. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegianceand worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then theteacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really payingattention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the PurpleWombat.Billy's hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked,"Teacher, what's the Purple Wombat?""You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the teacher cried in alarm,"Get yourself to the principal's office right now, young man. No, no buts --march!"So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to theprincipal's office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, andtimidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, satthe principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thinmustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough tofrighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost totears."Well, Billy," he began slowly. "What seems to be the problem?""Mr. Principal, I just don't know what's going on today. Everyone's beenacting weird, and they're all treating me really badly. Like teacher justsent me to you and stuff.""Now, Billy, I'm here to help you. I'm the princi-Pal, after all.Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone's acting so strangely?""It's because I don't know what some stupid Purple Wombat is.""What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is? That's it. I am callingyour mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended."The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home.Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother wasstanding in the doorway waiting for him."Billy!" she called, sobbing, "I was so worried about you! What happened?""Mom," Billy cried, "Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in theback of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal'soffice and the principal suspended me, all because I don't know what thePurple Wombat is!""What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" Billy's mother shrieked."Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!"So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed,crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doorsshutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talkingdownstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Then he heard footstepscoming up the stairs, and his door opened."Billy," his father began in that lecturing-father tone, "Your mother saysyou've been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you've done?""Dad, I haven't done anything! I just don't know what the Purple Wombat is!""You...don't know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you canjust stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!"Billy's father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on hisbed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way -- lyingthere, crying, wishing he would wake up.Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said:"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy."Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find thesource of the voice, but he could not."Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy."It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on,opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof."Billy. I am the Purple Wombat."Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He gotto the edge of a wood."Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy."The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and veryfrightening, but Billy didn't care. He had to find out what the PurpleWombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood."Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy."Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he keptfalling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going,driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name."Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy."Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the townlake."Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I'm out here, Billy."It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboatsfrom the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, itwas very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was."Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy."The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, andthe boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way acrossthe lake, he heard: "Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I'm up here, Billy."It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood upto look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn'tknow how to swim, so he drowned.Moral: Don't stand up in a boat.
In Washington D.C., helicopters are often used to monitor the trafficconditions. Frequently jammed is the Francis Scott Key bridge, named afterthe man who wrote the national anthem. The bridge's traffic problem isnotorious; among some, it's known as the Car Strangled Spanner.