Corny Jokes

Newest Jokes

New Words for 2016

These words are so joining our vocabulary in 2016!

Chairdrobe (n.): piling clothes on 
a chair in place of a closet or dresser.

Epiphanot (n.): an idea that seems like an amazing insight to the conceiver but is in fact pointless, mundane, stupid, or incorrect.

Internest (n.): the cocoon of blankets and pillows you gather around yourself while spending long periods of time on the Internet.

Textpectation (n.): the anticipation felt when waiting for a response to 
a text.

Unkeyboardinated (adj.): when you’re unable to type without repeatedly making mistakes.


Mild, Mild West

I think a lot of the conflict that happened in the Wild West could’ve been avoided had architects in those days just made their towns big enough for everyone.

Seen on

Social Media IRL

I’ve given up social media for the New Year and am trying to make friends outside Facebook while 
applying the same principles. Every day, I walk down the street and tell passersby what I’ve eaten, how I feel, what I did the night before, and what I will do tomorrow. Then I give them pictures of my family, my dog, and me gardening. I also listen to their conversations and tell them I love them. And it works. I already have three people following me—two 
police officers and a psychiatrist.

Submitted by Nancy L. Clark, 
Points, West Virginia

My Daily Regimen

My doctor took one look at 
my gut and refused to believe that 
I work out. So I listed the exercises 
I do every day: jump to conclusions, climb the walls, drag my heels, 
push my luck, make mountains out of molehills, bend over backward, run around in circles, put my foot 
in my mouth, go over the edge, and beat around the bush.


The Calculating Sheepdog

After a talking sheepdog gets all the sheep in the pen, he reports back to the farmer: “All 40 accounted for.”

“But I only have 36 sheep,” says the farmer.

“I know,” says the sheepdog. “But I rounded them up.”

Submitted by Norie Bloom, 
Honolulu, Hawaii

A Long-Winded Limerick

A crafty young bard named McMahon,

Whose poetry never would scan,

Once said, with a pause,

“It’s probably because

I’m always trying to cram as 
many extra syllables into the 
last line as I possibly can.”


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