Damnit, post earlier, D. A.!

A man’s gotta get his rest (Ladies too!!) & now I’m forced to read & comment, because by the time I’m awake again later tomorrow, even the trolls will have gotten the marrow out of the bones.

Sadly, I’ve no survivalist jokes. They’re sort of jokes all by themselves.

Eight-year-olds, dude? Harsh.

Q: How many survivalists does it take to change a light bulb?

A: WHAT LIGHTBULBS?? EVERYTHING WILL BE GONE!!
REAL SOON!

I Say Soon…

Q. What would a survivalist call a cross between Hitler and Zsa Zsa Gabor?
A. Madame President.

Three survivalists walk into a bar

and set off the claymores left by the fourth.

Nice pie chart reflecting the empty wing-nut day & mindset on that “Moron w/ a .45” site.

Q: Whats green and brown and dusty all over?

A: Everything a survivialist owns.

Q. What do you do when the government asks you for several million dollars for no apparent reason?
Q. You’ve got the only bomb-safed house in this part of town and a group of your neighbors you know to be handy and cordial are walking up to your home with guns at their sides. What do you do?
Q. What do you say about a convicted felon having a massive cache of automatic weapons and explosives seized by the government?
Q. The author or musician a youth on the bus is listening to demands the violent overthrow of the government and the destruction of its citizens. What do you do?
Q. There’s a hurricane on the way to a major city and you’re the head of the federal emergency management administration for some reason. What do you do?
Q. What do you call a young man menacing a white woman with a gun?

A. Are they black?

Q. What’s extremely dense, deceptively soft, chemically inert, and after the Bomb falls worth about a tenth of a handjob per troy ounce?
A. [ill-informed six-hundred-page screed about the Federal Reserve, ethnic slurs]

What do you get the survivalist who has everything?

Counseling.

Q: Why do firemen wear red suspenders?

A: Because once the coming RAHOWA is upon us, belts will be used to choke the life out of mud people and race mixers.

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Last night I shot an ATF agent in my pajamas. What he was doing in my pajamas, I’ll never know, because I shoot first and ask questions later.

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The other day I went to some fancy Jew-run department store and asked the salesman what I could get for two dollars. “Change for a dollar”, he replied. So I sent an anthrax-laced letter to their corporate headquarters.

===================================

A survivalist, a Christian Identity patriot, and a Posse Comitatus tax protester walk into a bar…

The bartender says, “What is this, a joke?”

==================================

Q. Where do survivalists hide?
A. An Obama shelter.

Q. There are three survivalists. One has an AK-47 but only one arm, one a Glock 19 and both arms and the other a scorpion SA Vz 68 but only one arm and one leg. Who wins?
A. The gun shop owner.

Q. How long can a survivalist make do with a hunting weapon?
A. Until he realizes it’s still cannibalism if they’re Mexicans.

The monsters are us!

Screw it, I’m going to use this as an excuse to tell my favourite joke, which has nothing to do with gun-toting racist lunatics who’d rather live in a hole than pay their taxes survivalists. It’s a variant on the classic “My wife’s gone to the West Indies” gag:

– The other day I was at home listening to some chart-friendly 90s acid jazz, when all the furniture and fittings – the light switches, the chairs, the pictures on the wall – began to weep little tears of sadness.

– ‘Dja mirror cry? (Pronounced as closely as possible to ‘Jamiroquai’)

– No, it was the Brand New Heavies.

What’s the difference between a stockpile of guns and a pile of dead babies?

I don’t have a stockpile of guns in the basement to look at while I masturbate.

I don’t have a stockpile of guns in the basement to look at while I masturbate.

“Oh, wait a minute – actually, I do. It’s right next to the dead baby pile. Doy!”

I just flew in from my bomb shelter in Wyoming and boy are my arms tired!

Knock Knock…

“Who’s There?”

“WOLVERINES!!!!!!!”

For instance, take my extensive gun collection… Freeze!

Q: You have a survivalist, a hippie, and a rap musician to get across the river, and one boat which seats only two. How do you do it?

A: Take the hippie and the rap musician on the first trip, but you don’t have to go back for the survivalist. He’ll be fine.

Q. Say, who were those ladies I saw you with last night?
A. Those were no ladies, those are the females in whom I will sow a new human race after the coming tribulations have wiped out the rest of mankind!

Well, there was Eye of the Tiger, and that’s about it.

Oh sorry, I thought you said “Survivor list”.

So, these three survivalists were hunkered down in the woods when one says, “Look, only two of us can go out hunting for hippies. The other has to stay here and cook. Let’s draw straws. Short straw stays in camp.”

So, they draw straws and TIDOS Yankee gets the short one. He wasn’t happy about it.

“OK, I’ll stay here, but the first one of you who complains about the food has to trade places with me.” The others agree.

While they’re out hunting hippies, TIDOS Yankee scours the area and finds a fresh steaming moose turd. He brings it back to camp, and bakes it in a pie.

The other two return with exciting tales of all the hippies they saw, but weren’t quite able to shoot. They finish their beans and spam, and settle in for dessert.

The first sniffs suspiciously at the pie, takes a small bite, gags briefly, but says nothing.

The second grabs his piece of pie with both hands and swallows half without even chewing. He retches violently, eyes bugging out, and shouts, “Hey! This pie tastes like moose shit!!!11!”

He quickly looks over at TIDOS Yankee and adds, “But it’s good, though.”

Q: How do you kill a blue survivalist?
A: With a blue survivalist gun.

Q: How do you kill a pink survivalist?
A: No such thing! Pink is for commies! WOLVERINES!

It is to LOL.

My favorite thing about the pie chart is that dude only spends 6 hours per day “working” for he and his. Wish I had a 30 hour work week.

Day One: The survivalist is in his bunker eating beans.
Day Two: The survivalist is in his bunker eating beans.
Day Three: The survivalist is in his bunker eating beans.
Says the survivalist: “I thought the race war would be faster.”

Day four: The survivalist’s mother throws open the basement door and demands that her son come out from behind the dryer and clean his room.

Legalize,
You miss the three hours where he is working as a slave to the looters, paying taxes that go directly to the Obamas and ACORN. This human dynamo also spends 9 hours sleeping and 6 hours “doin’ stuff” so that 3 hours of paying his taxes may not be all that’s keeping him down. I also seriously doubt that he is taxed at a 33% effective rate on his salary from Burger King.

The name “Geek with a .45” says so much too. He’s a geek, but he has a large bore man killing gun (not good for much else) that makes him a political pundit a real man, and a CITZEN! not a subject.

Do survivalists tie their shoes in neo-knotsies?

Why are survivalists so ashamed?

They spend all their time in debasement.

Did you hear about the survivalist who took Viagra?

He grew taller.

What’s a survivalists favorite breakfast cereal?

Beriberi Kix.

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

Hey, if the light didn’t hurt their eyes they’d hunt Eloi during the day.

What are survivalists’ favorite magazines?

Juggs for the articles and Guns and Ammo for the pictures

Mister DNA–

Splendid. But this one–

“Last night I shot an ATF agent in my pajamas. What he was doing in my pajamas, I’ll never know, because I shoot first and ask questions later.”

–has an alternate version:

“Last night I shot an ATF agent in my pajamas. Then I went back to bed….
What? No, it’s not ‘funny.’ THE ABRIDGMENT OF MY FREEDOM IS NOT ‘FUNNY.'”

What do you call a well-prepared survivalist after the armageddon?

A target.*

*Not what I think should be the case, understand, but what I think human nature can be.

OK, so in Wyoming, a survivalist built a nuclear weapons shelter during the cold war, in case Wyoming was taken over by troops. He also had a nuclear bomb. One day, the National Guard did take Wyoming by force. He entered the shelter where he had a detonation button. As he pushed the button, much to his dismay, he relized that he keeps the bomb in his shelter for safe keeping…

What do you call survivalists who grow their own food and have people skills?

Hippies.

Survivalist is broken down on the side of a road when three rednecks drive up.

First redneck says, “Hey, what’s up, buddy?”

Survivalist: “I’m headed to my super-secret compound from where I will save the white race.”

FR: “Cool, so what’s wrong?”

Survivalist: “Aww, piston broke.”

FR: “Well, yeah, so are we, but what’s the matter with your truck?”

Q: Why Did The Chickenshit Survivalist Cross The Road?

A: Michelle Malkin

Q. Why did the survivalist cross the line of reasonable, sane political discourse?
A: To get to the other side.

Hal Turner, Bruce Carroll and the head of the Michigan Militia walk into a bar.
“Say,” says the bartender, “we don’t get many members of the deranged survivalist movement in here.”
“At these prices, I’m not surprised,” Turner says, pulling out an AK-47 and shooting him

Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Militia.
Militia who?
Militia don’ sharrup an’ gimme ‘nother drink I’ll cumback wennim sober an’ killya!

One survivalist is showing off his bunker to another survivalist. They examine all the important stuff first – the armory, the handloading rig, and the IED supplies. Next up is the diesel generator, the chemical toilets, the shiny beads that will be used to barter with the uncivilized ruffians who emerge from the apocalypse and the stockpiles of Cheetos and HungryMan dinners. It’s a very impressive collection, but the visiting survivalist is astute enough to notice the thing that was missing:
“Where’s your water supply?” he asks.

“What, intentional delay the point at which I have to start drinking my own urine!”

So the survivalist is raping a small boy in his bunker. The boy is crying and frightened.

The survivalist says “You think you’re scared? I gotta face the ZOG alone!“

One cold and wintry evening in the woods, a GOP apparatchik, a televangelist, a right-wing radio host and a survivalist are huddled around a dying campfire, having run out of fuel.

The GOP apparatchik sighs, pulls out a wad of cash and tosses it on the fire.

‘Hey, that was a lot of money! Didn’t you need that?’ cry the others.

‘Yeah, well, in my line of work, we’ve got too much money. And anyway, there’s plenty more where that came from,’ says the GOP apparatchick.

A little while later the fire is dying out, so the televangelist pulls out a Bible and tosses it onto the fire.

‘Hey, that was your spiritual guide, rev! Didn’t you need that?’ cry the others.

‘Well, fellas, in my vocation, we’ve probably spend too much time with the Bible. And anyway, there’s plenty more where that came from,’ he says.

Later still, the fire needs yet more fuel, so the survivalist produces a copy of Guns & Ammo and flings it onto the fire.

‘Hey, that was your favorite … uh, reading material! Didn’t you need that?’ cry the others.

‘Aww, shoot, the pages wuz stuck together anyways. And I got plenty mores where that come from,” the survivalist explains.

Finally, as the cold of the night reaches its coldest, the fire once again starts to flicker out.

So the right-wing radio host throws the survivalist on the fire.

Hey, Guys! I know you all are just joking. If you are ever in Tennessee, I’ll buy you a beer! ‘Cause I am just joshing too! Gosh!

What’s the difference between a survivalist and a guy jumping off a building?

The guy jumping off the building is getting something done.

…having run out of fuel.
This would never have happened if we were drilling the ANWR.

So the survivalist frees the genie and is granted three wishes. For his first wish, he receives the Midas Touch. Soon he’s surrounded by huge mounds of gold – but just the same as Midas – he begins getting hungry after he finds all his deep-fried pork rinds turned into precious metal. But he’s a very clever survivalist this one, so his second wish is that anything he touches with his left hand gets turned into MRE’s and number three is that anything he touches with his right hand gets turned into guns or ammo. He’s now hit on the survivalist jackpot – a massive store of gold, and an unlimited supply of food and ordinance. Realizing his great fortune, he rubs his hands together.

Why are there so few survivalists’ in hurricane, flood, tornado, blizzard and earthquake zones?

They’re preparing for the REALLY BIG disaster- an invasion by French Liberals!

Dang! They’re hiding in the mountains, preparing for invasion of French Liberals

What do you get when you cross a survivalist?

A world-class hissy fit.

“The thing about being a survivalist kook and stockpiling gold, guns, and food is that there’s no downside. Even if you’re wrong, you’ve still got gold, guns, and food on January 1, 2000.”

Fixed

A survivalist is stalking through the badlands and comes upon another survivalist having his way with a sheep that had gotten caught up in a barb wire fence. The survivalist having sex with the sheep looks over and says “Howdy brother. You look hard up as well. Would you like a turn at this?”
The second survivalist says “Do I have to stick my head in that fence?”

What’s the only restaurant that survivalists like to eat at?
Ruby Ridge Tuesday’s

Re: Dr BDH’s comment, and from the goldbug site: “I’m glad I bought some gold (in my 401K) when it was at $750 an ounce. Today it’s at $968.”

Gold hit $850 in 1980, then didn’t break the “$500 barrier” again for over 20 years. The price is not fixed, and you don’t set it, so today’s price only means something if you sell today(plus, having actually bought metals myself, unless you deal only with other private buyers you pay over the per ounce price to buy but you receive less than the per ounce price to sell. Gold dealers make money on the margins, and they make it from you). You can’t eat it or shoot it, so when you run out of those two items the price for the gold you want to trade will be set by those selling the food and bullets you desperately need. Plus, if it’s in your 401k when the shit hits the fan, you don’t actually “own” any gold, you own a piece of paper that says some other guy’s holding some for you. Hey, at least you could eat that.

speaking of survivalists, I miss Rugged in Montana.

The badgers must have got him. But I really am worried about what the pelicans might have done…

I gotta face the ZOG alone!“

Is this a Jewish faction of the Harley Owners Group?

Wow.

ok, so I saw this joke:

Frank was excited about his new rifle. So, he went bear hunting. He spotted a small brown bear and shot it. There was then a tap on his shoulder, and he turned around to see a big black bear.

The black bear said: “You’ve got two choices. I either maul you to death or we have rough sex.”

Frank decided to bend over. Even though he felt sore for two weeks, Frank soon recovered and vowed revenge. He headed out on another trip where he found the black bear and shot it.

There was another tap on his shoulder.

This time a huge grizzly bear stood right next to him. The grizzly says: “That was a huge mistake, Frank. You’ve got two choices. Either I maul you to death or we have REALLY rough sex.”

Again, Frank thought it was better to comply. Although he survived, it would take several months before Frank finally recovered. Outraged he headed back to the woods, managed to track down the grizzly and shot it.

He felt sweet revenge, but then there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find a giant polar bear standing there.

The polar bear says: “Admit it, Frank, you don’t come here for the hunting, do you?”

And I immediately thought of this thread. Thank you.

ok, to try this again:

Frank was excited about his new rifle. So, he went bear hunting. He spotted a small brown bear and shot it. There was then a tap on his shoulder, and he turned around to see a big black bear.

The black bear said: “You’ve got two choices. I either maul you to death or we have rough sex.”

Frank decided to bend over. Even though he felt sore for two weeks, Frank soon recovered and vowed revenge. He headed out on another trip where he found the black bear and shot it.

There was another tap on his shoulder.

This time a huge grizzly bear stood right next to him. The grizzly says: “That was a huge mistake, Frank. You’ve got two choices. Either I maul you to death or we have REALLY rough sex.”

Again, Frank thought it was better to comply. Although he survived, it would take several months before Frank finally recovered. Outraged he headed back to the woods, managed to track down the grizzly and shot it.

He felt sweet revenge, but then there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find a giant polar bear standing there.

The polar bear says: “Admit it, Frank, you don’t come here for the hunting, do you?”
I’m hopin’ this works.

Because most these guys, aren’t out for the hunting, if you know what I mean, and I think you do….

Q: What do survivors call survivalists in the basement?

A: Veal

Do survivalists tie their shoes in neo-knotsies?

I like that one. A lot.

Q: You’re faced with a survivalist holed up in well-equipped bunker, just waiting for the collapse of society. What do you use on the door?

A: Cinderblocks and some quick-drying cement…

you people never cease to amaze me. i don’t think i know a single survivalist joke. all i can offer is my favorite lightbulb joke (excuse me if i’ve told this one already. i think it’s good enough to tell twice.)

q: how many feminists does it take to change a lightbulb?

a: THAT’S NOT FUNNY.