Post-Modernist Pirate Jokes
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Topic Author
- Visitor
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11 Nov 2019 02:50 #345378
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Post-Modernist Pirate Jokes was created by
How come nobody played cards with the pirate?
Because he was standing on the deck! The other pirates had no universal moral perspective from which to criticize him, so they stared at the ocean and contemplated God’s absence.
Why don’t you ever see a pirate cry?
Because, when they do, it’s a private tear! Each pirate embodies a secret narrative: impenetrable, unknowable, fetishized by those who claim to understand.
How do you save a drowning pirate?
C.P. ARRRRRR! Unless the pirate is drowning in the creeping sensation that he is a cog in a monstrous, inescapable machine and that all of his choices are meaningless, in which case resuscitation will fail.
What did the ocean say to the pirate?
Nothing, it just waved.
The pirate waved back.
The ocean waved again.
The pirate kept waving.
The ocean kept waving.
The pirate waved some more. He wanted to win. The ocean waved.
The pirate waved.
The ocean waved relentlessly.
The pirate waved with all his might.
“Scurvy! Who’s gonna break first?” the pirate thought.
Still, the ocean waved.
What did the pirate say when his wooden leg got stuck in the freezer?
“Shiver me timbers! Me entire life is this sentence, composed by some writer for a cheap laugh.”
Where do pirates keep their valuables?
In a JARRRR!
John the Pirate opened his JARRRR one day to see a tiny pirate who looked just like him, riding on a tiny pirate ship, holding a tiny JARRRR.
The tiny pirate looked happy, but John pitied him. “Blimey, he’s a deluded little idiot!” John exclaimed, closing the JARRRR. He put it under his bunk and ran up to the ship’s deck.
John surveyed the wild seas around him. “What a glorious and free pirate life!” he said, looking out to the waves crashing against the giant glass walls of his world, all the way up to the steel lid of the universe. Only his subconscious registered that something about the sea was a bit fishy that day.
How do pirates like to communicate?
Aye to aye! Back and forth, they grunt like this—interminably, senselessly, a silly little joke against Truth.
Where did the pirate put his car when he was finished driving?
The PARRRRRKING lot!
Four hours later, he returned from Bed Bath & Beyond, excited about his new tangerine-scented candles, folding patio chair, and luxurious memory-foam mattress pad—purchased with a twenty-per-cent-off coupon, to boot!
The pirate looked around the lot, sweating. “I can’t find my CARRRRRR!” he shouted.
Then he realized that everyone around him was strange and un-pirate-like. A woman dressed in Lululemon, walking a Pomeranian, slammed into him and yelled, “Watch where you’re going, Captain Morgan! Idiot.”
How did this land wench know the fearsome Captain Morgan? And, for that matter, how did he get here, why was he buying scented candles, and what was a car? None of this made sense.
“What vegetable do pirates fear? Leeks!”
“Why do pirates need cell phones? To make booty calls!”
“How do you piss off a pirate? Take away the ‘P’!”
The dads in the bar howled with laughter, spilling beer on their cargo shorts.
John the Pirate sat in the corner booth, scowling, and shed a single tear. “Arrrggh! Their jokes be hurtful!” he muttered, stabbing the “X” of a treasure map with his dagger, the desire for sweet, bloody revenge burning in his chest.
A young man and his date entered the bar, which was actually a large art installation.
“Everyone here is an actor delivering a stereotyped performance about a historical group,” the young man stated.
“Fascinating meta-narrative,” his date said. “What about us? Are we actors, too?”
“Yes. Us, too.”
What did one pirate say to the other?
“I SEA you!” But it was just a joke, for no pirate is ever truly seen.
Because he was standing on the deck! The other pirates had no universal moral perspective from which to criticize him, so they stared at the ocean and contemplated God’s absence.
Why don’t you ever see a pirate cry?
Because, when they do, it’s a private tear! Each pirate embodies a secret narrative: impenetrable, unknowable, fetishized by those who claim to understand.
How do you save a drowning pirate?
C.P. ARRRRRR! Unless the pirate is drowning in the creeping sensation that he is a cog in a monstrous, inescapable machine and that all of his choices are meaningless, in which case resuscitation will fail.
What did the ocean say to the pirate?
Nothing, it just waved.
The pirate waved back.
The ocean waved again.
The pirate kept waving.
The ocean kept waving.
The pirate waved some more. He wanted to win. The ocean waved.
The pirate waved.
The ocean waved relentlessly.
The pirate waved with all his might.
“Scurvy! Who’s gonna break first?” the pirate thought.
Still, the ocean waved.
What did the pirate say when his wooden leg got stuck in the freezer?
“Shiver me timbers! Me entire life is this sentence, composed by some writer for a cheap laugh.”
Where do pirates keep their valuables?
In a JARRRR!
John the Pirate opened his JARRRR one day to see a tiny pirate who looked just like him, riding on a tiny pirate ship, holding a tiny JARRRR.
The tiny pirate looked happy, but John pitied him. “Blimey, he’s a deluded little idiot!” John exclaimed, closing the JARRRR. He put it under his bunk and ran up to the ship’s deck.
John surveyed the wild seas around him. “What a glorious and free pirate life!” he said, looking out to the waves crashing against the giant glass walls of his world, all the way up to the steel lid of the universe. Only his subconscious registered that something about the sea was a bit fishy that day.
How do pirates like to communicate?
Aye to aye! Back and forth, they grunt like this—interminably, senselessly, a silly little joke against Truth.
Where did the pirate put his car when he was finished driving?
The PARRRRRKING lot!
Four hours later, he returned from Bed Bath & Beyond, excited about his new tangerine-scented candles, folding patio chair, and luxurious memory-foam mattress pad—purchased with a twenty-per-cent-off coupon, to boot!
The pirate looked around the lot, sweating. “I can’t find my CARRRRRR!” he shouted.
Then he realized that everyone around him was strange and un-pirate-like. A woman dressed in Lululemon, walking a Pomeranian, slammed into him and yelled, “Watch where you’re going, Captain Morgan! Idiot.”
How did this land wench know the fearsome Captain Morgan? And, for that matter, how did he get here, why was he buying scented candles, and what was a car? None of this made sense.
“What vegetable do pirates fear? Leeks!”
“Why do pirates need cell phones? To make booty calls!”
“How do you piss off a pirate? Take away the ‘P’!”
The dads in the bar howled with laughter, spilling beer on their cargo shorts.
John the Pirate sat in the corner booth, scowling, and shed a single tear. “Arrrggh! Their jokes be hurtful!” he muttered, stabbing the “X” of a treasure map with his dagger, the desire for sweet, bloody revenge burning in his chest.
A young man and his date entered the bar, which was actually a large art installation.
“Everyone here is an actor delivering a stereotyped performance about a historical group,” the young man stated.
“Fascinating meta-narrative,” his date said. “What about us? Are we actors, too?”
“Yes. Us, too.”
What did one pirate say to the other?
“I SEA you!” But it was just a joke, for no pirate is ever truly seen.
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