The Official TP Funnies thread ( Jokes Memes etc )

WARNING FOR ALL MALES FROM ME
Last weekend I saw something at The Gun Show that sparked my interest. I was looking for a little something different for my wife Dana. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer.
The effects of the Tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety...??
WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home.. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.
AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Dana what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Leo looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.
I must admit I thought about zapping Leo (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it. He is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised.
Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a singlet with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and Tazer in another.
The directions said that:
a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant;
a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; and
a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water.
Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries); pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.
I'm sitting there alone, the cat looking on with his head cocked to one side so as to say, 'Don't do it stupid,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it.
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and...
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION. WHAT THE... !!!
I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs! The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.
Note:
If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a Tazer,
one note of caution:
There is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor!
A three second burst would be considered conservative!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.
· My bent reading glasses were on the top of the TV.
· The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was.
· My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching.
· My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.
· I had no control over the drooling.
· Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for sure, and my sense of smell was gone.
· I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head, which I believe came from my hair.
I'm still looking for my testicles and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!
PS: My wife can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it!
 
A small church had a very attractive big-busted organist named Susan, and her breasts were so large that they bounced and jiggled while she played the organ.

Unfortunately, she distracted the male part of the congregation considerably. The very proper church ladies were appalled.

They said something had to be done about this or they would have to get another organist.

So one of the ladies approached Susan very discreetly about the problem, & told her to mash up some green persimmons & rub them on her nipples and all over her breasts, which should cause them to shrink in size, but warned her not to taste any of the green persimmons, because they are so sour they will make your mouth pucker up & you won't be able to talk properly for a while.
The voluptuous organist reluctantly agreed to try it.
The following Sunday morning the minister walked up to the pulpit and said,
“Dew to thircumsthanthis bewond my contwol, we will not hab a thermon tewday.
 
Dave the Scouser is touring the USA. Along the way, he stops at a remote bar in the Nevada desert and is chatting to the bartender when he spots a Red Indian in full tribal dress seated in the corner of the bar.

"Blimey!" remarks Dave. "Who's he?"

"Gee, that's the memory man," replies the bartender. "He knows everything there is to know. Got a memory like an elephant, he can remember any fact. Heck, go and try him out!"

Dave heads over to the Red Indian, thinking that he can outsmart him with a question about English football.

He asks the memory man, "Who won the 1965 FA cup final?"

"Liverpool," came the instantaneous reply.

Dave was stunned. He tried again asking, "Who did they beat?"

"Leeds," replied the memory man.

Dave tried once more, asking, "What was the final score?"

The wise Red Indian didn't hesitate in answering, "2-1."

Dave thinks he'll get smart, asking the memory man for the name of the winning goal scorer. Without so much as blinking, the Red Indian says, "Ian St John."

Dave is stunned and returns home to Liverpool, where he tells everyone about the Red Indian. Dave's curiosity lingers, and he vows to return to America and pay his respects to the Indian. Ten years later, Dave has finally saved up enough money to return and, after weeks of searching the Nevada desert, once more he finds the Red Indian, now in a cave.

Humbled by the Red Indian, Dave steps forward, bows, and greets the brave in his traditional tongue.

"How," Dave says.

The memory man squints at him and replies, "A diving header in the six-yard box."
 
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