Subliminal

 

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He’s my brother-in-law.

I have to love him.

You have a choice.

Me: John, did you have some acid in your cornflakes this morning?

John: Madonna is using telepathy to control my mind.

Me: John, it’s not just you.

Look what she made Trump do in his first week in office.

John: If only Hollywood were in charge.

Me: Yes. It would be a perfect world.

This has been a public service announcement from the Nation of Madonna.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled “humor” piece….

Madonna: Let me remind you how sexy I am, in case you don’t know what sexy is.

Homeless guy behind 7-11: Sorry, Madonna you’re losing me here…

When you say “sexy” do you mean “stupid?”

Madonna: Sigh. Why can’t Hollywood be it’s own country?

Homeless guy: We’ve asking this same question for years.

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I watched this great documentary on public television.

It was about “subliminal” messages.

It was very good, but the whole time

I wanted to eat some potato chips really bad.

They did an exceptional job on the show.

The corporate sponsor for the documentary was “Granny Goose.”

Yes. “The” Granny Goose.

It was good to see corporate America supporting such things as

“learning” and “knowledge.”

Afterwards, I went out and bought 10 cases of potato chips.

The next day at work I decided to use a more subliminal

approach to communicating with my boss.

Me: Good morning. You f*cking a*hole!

Boss: What did you just say?

Me: Absolutely nothing about the morning.

I love my job so much I never know what time of day it is…

Me later: Looks like it’s time for lunch. You god d*mn idiot!

My boss: I beg your pardon?

Me: I certainly didn’t say anything about having lunch.

On a day like today I love my job so much I could work forever.

Well, perhaps a few potato chips might be nice.

Me in afternoon: Look the in-vitro fertilization worked and a chicken

gave birth to a balding baboon. The birthday cake for you surprise

birthday party has been laced with goat poison.

Boss: For some reason I’m craving potato chips.

Me: Who isn’t?  Here’s a bag for me.

And you get the bag that has been laced with goat poison.

My boss: For some reason I have insatiable desire to celebrate

my birthday.

Me: I’m on the phone right now with a chicken.

If you were a goat, you would be a goat of approximately

how many pounds?

Me: Good. Good. Yes, the entire bag’s for you it’s your birthday.

 

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