The Ghost of Snapped Shot

More islamic jokes...

Now that was funny!!!!!

A strong early showing by DMartyr—Awesome!

(I know the picture doesn't do it justice, but this is a full-size tripod y'all are playing for here. Who doesn't want one of those??)

Here's one from the umbrella post. There, I included the picture with the umbrella cropped out, in case someone wants to make their own photoshop.

This isn't all that funny until you look at Michelle's face. LOL!

I used to have two dogs name FStop and Shutter.  (Really, true story).  FStop was a Newfoundland (Newfie, see:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newfoundland_%28dog%29).

FStop's coat was massively thick and he required brushing nearly everyday to keep the mats out of his fur.

I lapsed and didn't brush him for about a week.  Bad thing.

We took him to the only groomer who could handle a 160 pound dog to get his coat cleaned up and the mats removed.  During the process the groomer, unknowingly, cut FStop's flesh in the web between his left hind leg and his torso.  This became gravely infected and required surgery, and months of antibiotics and rehabilitation.  He lost a lot of muscle tissue during this ordeal.

During the healing process which took nearly a year, FStop would lift his leg and pull it close to his body when standing.  He would use it to walk and ocassionally run but for the most part he just lifted it up.  Standing on three legs.

I commented one day to my wife that we should change his name to Tripod.  When I said the word he looked around at me and hobbled over to lay at my feet.  He took to the name instantly and from that moment forward, he was known as Tripod the Wonder Dog.

Even if I don't get the tripod, hope you enjoyed the story.  And, Tripod finally passed away of old age at 14 years in 2001.

I don't have a dog now, but two Betta Fish named...  Smith and Wesson.

Here ya go, Captain! The umbrella didn't work well because it was so dark and the background was dark.But I did add a basket, which I think is just Obama's style.

Not the best photoshop, but I'm feeling lazy today.

I'm not sure how your blog's software would crop this, so please see my photo at my blog:

http://lumpygrumpyandfrumpy.blogspot.com/2010/08/dont-tell-me-what-i-cant-do.html

And thanks for sharing the joy with us, Brian!

Oh my gosh!  I just voted on my favourites.  Those photos are incredible!  So gorgeous.  Thank you for bringing them to our attention!

wonder where kevin is on this?

Posting this for Josephine, #11:

Click to enlarge.

Thanks, DMartyr!

Q: How many suicide-bombers does it take to change a light-bulb?

A: Allahu AckBOOOOM! And that's NOT funny!

I used to play wheelchair sports, one of the guys on our team was nicknamed "Tripod."

We were at a tournament once, and a woman spectator asked why that was his nickname. Everyone in earshot who knew the answer burst into laughter. We didn't reply, all I'll say is the person is question was a double leg amputee.

(But you all saw that one coming, didn't you?)

Received this in the email...couldn't help but pass it on:

A man goes into the hospital for a vasectomy.

Before the procedure a rather attractive nurse comes in and takes his vitals, then tells him to take all of his clothes off..

When he is fully undressed she instructs him to lie down on the table.  The man obeys.

The nurse then takes all of her clothes off and climbs on top and has her way with him.

Upon the completion of the act the man catches his breath and asks what that was all about.

The nurse informs the patient that studies have shown that before a vasectomy if the man has an ejaculation, he will be more relaxed and that the vasectomy is easier for the surgeon to complete.

The nurse then wheels the patient to the operating room.  While they are going down the hall the patient sees six men in a room masturbating. Curious, the man asks

"What are they doing in there"?

The nurse responds,

 "They are getting vasectomies too, but you have Blue Cross and they have Obama Care.

My small grandson got lost at the shopping mall..........

He approached a uniformed security guard and said,
"I've lost my grandpa!"
The guard asked, "What's his name?"
"Grandpa"
The guard smiled, then asked, "What's he like?"
The little tyke hesitated for a moment and then replied,
"Crown Royal whiskey, and women with big boobs."

The pet store was selling them for five cents a piece. I thought this was odd since they were normally a couple thousand. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth so I bought 200 of them. I like monkeys.

I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one of drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the genitals. I laughed. They punched me in the genitals. I stopped laughing.

I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech and hurl themselves off the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into it's third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive; they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sort of dropped dead. Kinda like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Goddamn cheap monkeys.

I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room; on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs. I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet monkey and one hundred ninety-nine dead, dry monkeys.

I tried to pretend that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for awhile, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad. I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in my toilet and I didn't want to call a plumber. I was embarrassed.

I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortuantely there was only enough room for two at a time, so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't go bad. I tried to burn them, but little did I know that my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and one hundred ninety-seven dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed, The odor wasn't improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of the dead monkeys and I really had to use the bathroom. So I went and severely beat one of the monkeys. I felt better.

I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him I had a wet one. He couldn't take it either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.

I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't quite know what to say. They pretended to like them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.

I like monkeys.

My small grandson got lost at the shopping mall..........

He approached a uniformed security guard and said,
"I've lost my grandpa!"
The guard asked, "What's his name?"
"Grandpa"
The guard smiled, then asked, "What's he like?"
The little tyke hesitated for a moment and then replied,
"Crown Royal whiskey, and women with big boobs."

A city slicker from New York was – oddly enough – walking downa country road one evening as the sun was beginning its nightly swan dive belowthe western horizon.

He happened by a farmhouse where an elderly farmer waskicked back on his porch smoking a pipe and enjoying the early evening air. 

The farmer was somewhat amused when the city-slickerapproached the house and said, “Sir, while I was walking by your fields Inoticed some milkweed.  Would you mind ifI got myself a little milk?”

The farmer, flummoxed just a bit chuckled inwardly andanswered, “Sure young fella, help yourself. Here’s a bucket, go to town.”

His guffaws were silenced when in short order theaforementioned city-slicker came back with the pail nearly brimming over withfrothy white milk.  Before he couldquestion the young urbanite, the young man inquired, “Say, while I was gettingthe milk I noticed you had some honey suckle, too.  Would you mind if I got myself some honey?”

The farmer – half suspecting Allen Funt was hiding in theshrubbery amiably agreed.  “Sure thing, partner.  Here’s a little pot to help you collect it.”

Our intrepid farmer was enjoying putting on the city boy andchortling to himself when the citified younger man came back to the porch andsure enough, he held a pot that was brimming over with honey.

Now the farmer was more than flummoxed but before he could unwrinkledhis brow, the city dweller told him, “Say, while I was getting the honey Icouldn’t help noticing all the pussy willows that edge your south forty.”

Before the visitor could say another word, the farmerblurted, “Wait, I’ll get my boots.”

Here's one of my takes on the bikey pic.  :D

Here are a few from the diseased crevices of my brain!

Pod'n me, but here's my last shot.  ;-)

I'll be selecting the winner sometime after 5 or so this evening, for anyone who wants to put in some last-minute submissions. See y'all then!

A priest, a preacher, and a leprechaun walk into a bar.

The leprechaun looks to his left, he looks to his right, and then he says:

"Saints preserve us! I'm in the wrong joke!"

Biden-Powers...ACTIVATE!

By the way, I shamelessly stole the above photo and idea from Ace here:

http://minx.cc/?post=300817

Once there were two brothrs, who lived with their parents. One day, the younger brother, reading a book, was confused by a passage he read.

"What's a 'fox pass,'" he asked his brother.

"Let me see that," his brother responded. "Oh, that's faux pas. It's French and means a 'false move' or a social blunder."

"Well, what's that mean?"

"Let me give you an example: remember last Sunday when we had the Bishop over for dinner?"

"Yeah."

"And remember when Momma took him out to see her roses and he pricked his thumb on a thorn?

"Yeah."

"Then, Momma and the Bishop spent a lot of time in the bathroom getting a bandage on his thumb?"

"Yeah."

"And then at dinner when Momma asked him 'Bishop, does your prick still throb?'"

"Yeah."

"Well, when you yelled 'Shee-it!' and dropped the gravy boat, THAT was a faux pas."

How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb?

Only one.

But the light bulb has to want to change.

You are a disgusting pervert. Everyone reading "leave me a funny comment" or "make me laugh" knows what you are trying to do. You want me to send you pictures of my genitals. Well, my mother told me my naughty parts are more "cute" than funny-looking, no matter what my dentist says.  So there, sicko.

My congratulations to Anonymous ala Nephew Sam for knocking it out of the park with some amazingly abstract hilarity in #27 above. I've got a soft spot for abstract humor, and that one was off-kilter enough to crack me up. (And Heaven knows I've repeated some horrid ones myself over the years...)

Your tripod will be on the way, as soon as we arrange the shipping info. (A request should be sitting in your inbox as we speak.)

I'd like to sincerely thank each and every one of you for participating in this awesome contest—Y'all told some terrific jokes, spun some funny yarns, and hopefully had as much fun writing them as I did reading everything you sent! And I'd also like to thank National Geographic and Energizer for sponsoring excellent promotional events like this, and for allowing we here at Snapped Shot to participate!

Which reminds me—If you haven't done so already, please be sure to click on over to National Geographic to vote in their excellent contest—so we can make sure that someone out there gets a fantastic trip to Greece!

Hope to see y'all again soon!

Warmest Regards,
Brian

Congrats, Nephew Sam!