Jokes tagged death

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There was a chicken farmer who lived in a village in China. One year,his chickens were afflicted with a strange blight that caused them to lose their feathers. The farmer was deeply concerned about this, because winter was coming, and, if the chickens had no feathers, they would freeze to death. So, the farmer decided to consult the two wisest men in the land. First,he visited Mr. Hing, the renowned scholar. Mr. Hing leafed through all his agricultural and medicinal texts and pored over books and scrolls well into the night. Finally, he returned to the farmer and told him that, if he crushed the leaves of a gum tree into powder, made it into tea, and fed it to his chickens, they would be cured.The farmer then went to Mr. Ming, the great seer. Mr. Ming cast stones, read tea leaves, and poked through entrails until finally he came up with the answer: "As surely as gum causes a shoe to stick to the ground,tea made from gum leaves will cause feathers to stick to chickens. "Now the farmer was ecstatic. The two wisest men in the land had given him exactly the same prescription. So, as soon as he returned home, he took some gum leaves and made tea from them. He mixed this with the chicken feed and fed it to his chickens. But it didn't work.The chickens continued to lose their feathers, and, with the onset of winter, they all froze.The moral of this story: "All of Hing's courses and all of Ming's ken couldn't get gum tea to feather a hen."
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What do you call death by pig stampede?
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tags: death pig
Did you hear about the plumber who worked a top a skyscraper?
He plunged to his death.
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tags: death
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...."
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Three construction workers (an Italian, a Mexican, and a Redneck) were sitting on a steel beam at the top of a skyscraper they were building. It was lunchtime. The Italian worker opens his lunch box and sees that he has spaghetti and meatballs.

"Son of a bitch", he says, "spaghetti and meatballs again. Everyday it's spaghetti and meatballs. I swear if I get spaghetti and meatballs again tomorrow I'm going to commit suicide by jumping off this building".

The Mexican worker opens up his lunch box and sees a burrito. "Damnit", he says, "another damn burrito, I'm so tired of burritos, If I have to eat a burrito again tomorrow I'm going to jump off of this building and commit suicide".

The Redneck worker opens his lunch box and sees a bologna sandwich. "Shit!!!, another damn bologna sandwich. If I get another bologna sandwich tomorrow, I'm going to commit suicide".

The next day during lunch hour, they are sitting on the same steel beam. The Italian worker opens his lunch box and finds spaghetti and meatballs. Without saying a word he closes the box and throws himself off of the beam and drops twenty floors to his death. The Mexican worker opens his box, finds a burrito, closes the box and jumps to his death. The Redneck worker opens his box and finds a bologna sandwich, closes the box and jumps to his death.

A couple of days later the families of all three workers meet at the cemetery just after the funerals. The Italian worker's wife was crying.

"Oh, if only I had known how he felt about the spaghetti and meatballs, I could have fixed him a muffalotta, and he would still be here today.

The Mexican worker's wife said "I could have fixed my husband a taco or an enchilada, and he would be here with me today".

There was a moment of silence while everybody was waiting for the Redneck worker's wife to comment.

"Don't look at me", she said, "He fixes his own lunch".
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Part 1:

One day a man with no arms showed up at a monastery, asking if there was any work. The monk thought for a while and asked if he could ring the bell in the tower by running into it with his head. The man with no arms thought he could manage that and started his new career.

For several days, the man happily rang the bell. Then one day he slipped, missed the bell, and fell off the tower, plunging to his death. The local constable showed up and asked the monk if he knew the man. The monk said "No, but his face rings a bell."

Part 2:

Same monastery, few months later. A second man with no arms shows up and says he heard the monastery had a job for a guy with no arms (and an opening). The monk explained and the man took the jobs. He also happily rang the bell for a few days before slipping and plunging to his death. The constable showed up and asked if the monk knew the man. The monk said "No, but he's a dead ringer for the last guy."
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