Funny
Lady, Just Get Back in Your Car
I read this joke a couple of days ago on the internet. A man is driving his five-year-old to a friend's house. Suddenly, another car speeds in front and cuts them off. They almost have an accident. "Douchebag!" the father yells. A moment later, he realises the indiscretion, pulls over, and turns to face his son. "Your father just said a bad word," he says. "I was angry at that driver, but that was no excuse for what I said. It was wrong. But just because I said it, it doesn’t make it right, and I don’t ever want to hear you saying it. Is that clear?" His son looks at him and says, "Too late, Douchebag."
By Calvin Londona day ago in Humor
If We Took Instructions Literally, Civilization Would Collapse by Thursday
We live in a society held together by one fragile, invisible thread: the collective understanding that no one is taking the instructions literally. This is the unspoken covenant of civilization.
By The Pompous Post2 days ago in Humor
Sheikh Chilli and The Pot of Milk
In almost every village, there is someone whose imagination runs faster than reality. In South Asian folk tales, that person is Sheikh Chilli. He isn’t cruel or foolish in a harmful way — just endlessly dreamy. His thoughts always take him somewhere else, and that’s exactly what makes his stories funny and memorable. One bright morning, his mother handed him a clay pot filled with fresh milk. “Take this to the market,” she said. “Sell it carefully and bring the money back home. And this time, don’t get distracted.” Sheikh Chilli nodded confidently. “Don’t worry, Ammi. I’ll handle everything perfectly.” He balanced the pot carefully on his head and set off toward the market. The sun was gentle, the road quiet. Birds chirped in the neem trees, a stray dog barked somewhere near the fields, and the faint smell of fresh earth and cow dung filled the air. Perfect for walking, perfect for daydreaming. And daydreaming was what Sheikh Chilli did best.
By Shahid Zaman3 days ago in Humor
Inside the Gym of Chad “Thunderbuns” Wilson, The World’s First Mentagonist™
When I accepted an internship at The Pompous Post, I imagined journalism. Investigations, serious interviews, and possibly a press badge. Instead, last Tuesday morning, I was handed a clipboard and told:
By The Pompous Post4 days ago in Humor
Ferdinand the Funny Rooster. AI-Generated.
Once upon a time, in a quaint little village surrounded by green fields and winding cobblestone paths, there lived a rooster named Ferdinand. Ferdinand was no ordinary rooster. He had shiny feathers in shades of red, orange, and green that glimmered in the morning sun, and a proud stance that made him look like the king of the barnyard. But Ferdinand had a very unusual problem: every time he tried to crow “cock-a-doodle-doo” at dawn, out came a loud, unexpected “woof-woof!”
By Michael Tomasetta6 days ago in Humor
Mally and Media Junkiez
Molly and the media junkies are kids from all ages and stuff who like to hang out at the mall and stuff. They’re seeing kids and Goth kids and metalhead kids and just live in the dream or at least there of I think outside of the mall there are part of bands and stuff that that gives them the luxury and the privilege to be able to hang out at the mall as they do.
By Revista Miko:XCI 7 days ago in Humor
Mally and the Media JUNKIEZ A
I always wanted to a comic strip and get it published and I did that with Mally and Media Junkiez This was inspired by the time when I was a vegetarian my uncle and I ordered a pizza with eggplant and I thought it was meat and began taking off the eggplant and my uncle says that’s not meat
By Revista Miko:XCI 7 days ago in Humor
The Disappearance of Common Sense (As Told by Warning Labels)
There was a time when products trusted us to use them correctly. A ladder did not need to remind us not to stand on the very top rung. A candle did not feel compelled to clarify that fire, historically speaking, is hot. Shampoo did not warn us that it was not to be consumed as a breakfast smoothie.
By The Pompous Post9 days ago in Humor
Plain Pasta, Part 2
I met Kira at the entrance of the 12-story building where the Italian rented his apartment and went up to the sixth floor. The building itself was notable — one of the few high-rises in central Bishkek built from an individual design rather than a standard Soviet brutalist blueprint. For those of us raised in cramped five-story blocks and Khrushchev-era apartments for the proletariat, it was intriguing just to see the inside. “At least for that reason, the evening won’t be wasted,” I decided.
By Lana V Lynx10 days ago in Humor
Easter Memory from 1977: The Saga of Yakety Jack
Yakety Jack the chocolate Easter bunny On Good Friday, 1977 the man I would later marry gave me a chocolate rabbit for Easter. His name, Yakety Jack, was on the box he came in and the packaging looked like a telephone booth.
By Cheryl E Preston11 days ago in Humor
