Deep Thought, Joke Edition
For years, the bar has been darkened by Bob, the grumpiest son of a bitch you could ever hope to meet, a man so foul-tempered he actually drives customers away. So one day, the bartender asks him, “Say pal, what’s your beef with the world anyway? All you do is sit here, get drunk, and yell at people.”
“What’s my beef?” mutters Bob. “WHAT’S MY BEEF? C’MERE, I’LL SHOW YOU WHAT’S THE PROBLEM!”
He leads the bartender to the window, and points out at the biggest skyscraper in the city. “Ya see that building?” the angry drunk says. “I’ll bet you don’t know this, but I’m the architect who designed it. Not only that, I was the head of the construction crew. I practically built the thing with my bare hands. Do they call me ‘Bob the Skyscraper Builder’? No.”
Bob points to the entrance to the subway a block away. “You know who came up with the plans, the capital, AND the building crew for the subway? That’s right: ME. Do they call me ‘Subway Bob’? No.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rumpled piece of newspaper. “See this?” he says. “It’s a review of my opening at the MOMA in New York from 6 years ago. Rave fuckin’ reviews. But do they call me ‘Bob the Artist’? No. They do NOT.”
He sighs irritably. “But you fuck one goddamn dog…”
That’s how Michael Jackson must feel right now. All I’ve been hearing for the past three days is one Michael Jackson joke after the other.
June 30th, 2009 at 11:53 am
ROFL.
Doggone it.