Innappropriateness rocks!
Courtesy http://www.pbfcomics.com/I've shut up entire parties relating my endless repretoire of "dead baby" jokes....the silence that usually follows a rendition of my favorite three can only be broken by the sound of some auntieji fainting or some chappie saying "That's not funny in the least". Ah well, to each his (or her) own, I say! I remember cracking up at Helen Keller and Stevie Wonder jokes, Michael Jackson jokes made me choke on my burrito (OK, so that's not a euphemism..). I heart Pope jokes as for the MCP ones? I've risked beatings when I've shared them with my rather "haalthy and waalthy" female friends (Several of who are from the greater Delhi area....Delhi breeds them big and fighter-cock like)
Does this mean I'm a bad person? Well yes and no. I crack up at these jokes but my heart's in the right place (for the most part it's somewhere around my knee...). Do I really want dead babies in microwaves? Do I want Hellen Keller's dog to pee on her leg? Do I want Micheal Jackson to be anywhere close to a boy? Well, not really...but it's funny if it happens.
So in the immortal words of some woman on the Ricki Lake show (I was addicted..I'd TIVO it so I could watch it after I got home from work), "Y'all don't know me!" and "Don't hate, appreciate!".
I leave you with three of my favorite dead baby jokes. I've left out the more offensive ones (cause they are certainly not for a couple of weak-hearted peeps I know that read this....and I don't want to pay for your stroke-recovery at Bombay hospital..)
1. What's the difference between a truck full of bowling balls and a truck full of babies?
You can't unload the bowling balls with a pitchfork.
2. Three expectant mothers are sitting in the obstetrician's waiting room, smiling to themselves and knitting.
One lady puts down her knitting, picks up her handbag, takes out a bottle of pills, swallows one, then continues knitting. She sees the other two looking at her and explains, "Vitamins. Good for mother, good for little baby."
The second lady puts down her knitting, picks up her handbag, takes out a bottle of pills, swallows one, then continues knitting. She pats her stomach and says, "Essential minerals. Good for mother, good for little baby."
The third lady puts down her knitting, picks up her handbag, takes out a bottle of pills, swallows one, then continues knitting. She glances at the other two, smiles and shrugs and says, "Thalidomide. I can't knit sleeves."
3. Why was the dead baby in the tree?
The neighborhood kids lost their frisbee...
Labels: Culture
