Knock Knock

Who's there?

Minnesota.

Minnesota who?

Minnesota Fats.

[...]

The pool player?

[...]

I'm kinda famous?

[...]

Big dude? Really good at pool?

[...]

I mean, come on, ask a guy if he knows the name of ANY pool player at all, and he's gonna say Minnesota Fats.

Oh, THAT Minnesota Fats.

Yeah.

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

[...]

Well, I'd best be takin' off.

[...]

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Harry Houdini.

Holy fuck! I thought you were dead! Hey grandma, come here, guess who's here, it's motherfucking Harry fucking Houdini!!!

Oh, but not the famous one.

[cries]

[grandma cries too]

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Dini.

Dini who?

Uh, dude, I think you mean Houdini. Are you, like, dyslexic or something?

[cries]

why I quit doing anything else on the internet

Because now I just keep spending all my time here.


Also, my brothers and I developed a new kind of knock-knock joke (not a funny kind). Here is a prototype:

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Tom.
Tom who?
Tom Brokaw-- not the famous one, though.


I don't want to be This Kind of blogger, but also let me tell you a sad and funny story. Well, it isn't a story really. It's just, I got my hair cut and I felt like I looked ridiculous. Then I thought I had to fart but instead I shit my pants. Just a little bit.

I'm 31 years old.