We're sorry, but it appears that you are using an anonymous proxy. To prevent fraudulent voting, we don't allow votes from anonymous proxies.

This contest requires users to be registered in order to vote.

You must be a registered user to submit a joke.  But registering is FREE and don’t worry, we only need a name and e-mail address, and we don’t sell or share your information with any third-parties (see Privacy Policy).

You must complete account validation before submitting jokes. Click here to go to your profile page to complete the process.

We’re sorry, but your browser settings indicate that you don’t want to be tracked.  You can either disable that setting or simply register for a FREE account, so we’ll know that you want us to track your preferences and feedback.  Don’t worry, we only need a name and e-mail address and we don’t sell or share your information with any third-parties (see Privacy Policy).


The best jokes and joke writers!

Blonde Headphones

A blonde girl goes into a hair salon and she's wearing earphones connected to her walkman. She tells the hair stylist to cut her hair but NOT to take off her earphones. He had to cut around it. But, he thought it would look really stupid if he didn't cut under her earphones so he picked them up and lifted them slightly. Suddenly, she fell to the ground, dead. The hair stylist picked up the ear phones to see what she had been listening to and a recorded voice was saying "Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out."

Obama Time

Michelle Obama dies and goes to heaven, and she's in the waiting room to see Jesus.

There are clocks everywhere, not a single square inch of wall or ceiling doesn't have a timepiece. Some of them don't seem to be moving. St. Peter comes out and calls her name.

"I'm here" she says. "What's with all the clocks?".

St. Peter says "Everyone who has ever lived has a clock here. Every time they tell a lie, their clock moves forward by one minute. This is George Washington's clock. As you can see, it's one past midnight, so he only told one lie."

"Oh" Michelle said. "Where's my husband's clock?"

"That's in Jesus' office" St. Peter replies. "He uses that as a fan".

Hubby in Heaven

Q: What do you call an African-American lady whose spouse just died?

A: A black widow.

The smart Irishman.

An Irishman named Murphy went to his doctor after a long illness. The doctor, after a lengthy examination, sighed and looked Murphy in the eye and said, "I've some bad news for you. You have cancer and it can't be cured. I'd give you two weeks to a month." Murphy, saddened and shocked by the news, but of solid character, managed to compose himself and walk from the doctor's office into the waiting room. There he saw his son who had been waiting. Murphy said, "Son, we Irish celebrate when things are good and we celebrate when things don't go so well. In this case, things aren't so well. I have cancer and I've been given a short time to live. Let's head for the pub and have a few pints." After three or four pints the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more beers. They were eventual approached by some of Murphy's old friends who asked what the two were celebrating. Murphy told them that the Irish celebrate the good and the bad. He went on to tell them that they were drinking to his impending end. He told his friends "I've only got a few weeks to live as I have been diagnosed with AIDS." The friends gave Murphy their condolences and they had a couple more beers. After his friends left, Murphy's son leaned over and whispered his confusion. "Dad, I thought you said that you were dying from cancer? You just told your friends that you were dying from AIDS?" Murphy said, "I am dying from cancer son, I just don't want any of them sleeping with your mother after I'm gone!"

Artist Sale

An artist asked the gallery owner if there had been any interest in his paintings on display at that time. "I have good news and bad news," the owner replied. "The good news is that a gentleman inquired about your work and wondered if it would appreciate in value after your death. When I told him it would, he bought all 15 of your paintings." "That's wonderful," the artist exclaimed. "What's the bad news?" "The guy was your doctor."