Jokes - Funny Jokes at Loudjokes.com

A psychotherapist was having a roaring business since he started from scratch. So much so that he could now afford to have a proper shop banner advertising his wares. So he told a kid to paint the sign board for him & put it above his shop entrance.

But, instead of his business building up, it began to slacken. He had especially noticed the ladies shying away from his shop after reading the sign board. So he decided to check it out himself. Then he understood why !

The boy found a small wooden board so he had split the word into the 3 words :

Psycho-
the-
rapist.

A doctor of psychology was doing his normal morning rounds when he entered a patient’s room. He found Patient #1 sitting on the floor, pretending to saw a piece of wood in half.

Patient #2 was hanging from the ceiling, by his feet.

The doctor asked patient number 1 what he was doing. The patient replied, “Can’t you see I’m sawing this piece of wood in half?” The doctor inquired of Patient #1 what Patient #2 was doing. Patient #1 replied, “Oh. He’s my friend, but he’s a little crazy. He thinks he’s a lightbulb.” The doctor looks up and notices Patient #2’s face is going all red.

The doctor asks Patient #1, “If he’s your friend, you should get him down from there before he hurts himself”

Patient #1 replies, “What? And work in the dark?”

A guy goes to a psychiatrist. “Doc, I keep having these alternating recurring dreams. First I’m a teepee; then I’m a wigwam; then I’m a teepee; then I’m a wigwam. It’s driving me crazy. What’s wrong with me?” The doctor replies: “It’s very simple. You’re two tents.”

Dear Shrink,

It haunted me for days, weeks, months, years. I couldn?t sleep at night. The sleep I got was full of nightmares and visions.

I fought bout after bout, fight after fight, with plagues of depression and insomnia; paranoia! Just the thought vexed me night after night, day after day.

I served stints in mental institutions, was even suicidal. Not even the normal 1-2 punch of Prozac and Zoloft would help.

Who would think that such a terrible and utterly disgusting act of cruelty and injustice could exist? Exist here in the United States of America, the land of the free the home of the Braves?

I could see a terrible wrong like this happening in third world anarchies, but here? The only place in the world where you can buy a six piece chicken McNugget and redeem 250 UPC symbols for a blue, red, and white basketball all on the same day!

I can still hear their merciless, nerve wrecking, voices; taunting him. They kept shrieking over and over that horrid little phrase, “Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids.”

Why couldn?t they just give the innocent, little, white rabbit some cereal? Why? Does the fact that he is a rabbit automatically deprive him of the democratic and patriotic notion, the freedom, of eating cereal?

I can vaguely recollect the times when he was this close to getting some of that, that CEREAL.

There was the time when he dressed as a human and went to that secret meeting but was given away by the exposure of his fluffy white tail (I am still wondering how they accepted the ears).

Then there was the time he went to space and ancient times and even the jungle, but to no avail. You cannot even imagine the rabbits pain.

There are times when you don?t get what you want but you survive; now think of the rabbit. Over 50 YEARS of chasing his only hearts desire, the reason he lives, and NEVER getting it.

Can you even begin to understand his pain, his utter grief? He is such a funny little rabbit, not silly, as those demonic little children accuse him of being.

Despite all his efforts he never got any cereal; not even when the flavor berry-blue was added to the ever-so-popular flavors of orange. Cherry. Grape. Lemon. Lime. WHY?

Those heartless little children had so much cereal and they wouldn?t share. Even one little spoonful would have satisfied my little white friend?s craving for those delicious six flavors. But no!

“Trix aren?t for rabbits. Trix are for kids. Oh! The unbearable agonizing pain it has cost me. That one simple phrase “silly rabbit, Trix are for kids.”

For the fourteen antagonizing years of my short but cruel life I have watched helplessly as those evil little children refused to share. I?ve seen the pain in his eyes grow from when he was a black and white toon to the five-color symbol of melancholy, infinite sadness he is now.

No More! In a matter of moments I will be taken up into the ship following the glorious Hale-Bopp and with the help of some friends I. WILL. FEED. THE. RABBIT! Feed him to his hearts desire so he can finally enjoy the pleasure of the orange, cherry, grape, lemon, lime, and new wildberry blue.

I can?t wait to see the look on their moronic little faces as I feed the rabbit! He will be happy as I, when I give Trix to the rabbit and kill the kids! Who?s with me?

Sianara,

You Know Who

P.S. If you happen to find 496 Trix cereal tops and over 2,546 Betty Cocker points. You will know that I haven?t failed. Oh yeah, trade them in for a 7? by 4? by 2? life size replica of the Trix Rabbit.

My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start.

So far today, I have finished two bags of chips and a chocolate cake.

I feel better already.

Mary was having a tough day and had stretched herself out on the couch to do a bit of what she thought to be well-deserved complaining and self- pitying.

She moaned to her mom and brother, “Nobody loves me … the whole world hates me!”

Her brother, busily occupied playing a game, hardly looked up at her and passed on this encouraging word: “That’s not true, Mary. Some people don’t even know you.”

Hello. Welcome to the Psychiatric Hotline

If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2.

If you have multiple personalities, please press 3, 4, 5, and 6.

If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want. Just stay on the line so we can trace the call.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.

If you are manic-depressive, it doesn’t matter which number you press. No one will answer.

If you are anxious, just start pressing numbers at random.

If you are phobic, don’t press anything.

If you are anal retentive, please hold

A man is strolling past the mental hospital and suddenly remembers an important meeting.

Unfortunately, his watch has stopped, and he cannot tell if he is late or not. Then, he notices a patient similarly strolling about within the hospital fence.

Calling out to the patient, the man says, “Pardon me, sir, but do you have the time?”

The patient calls back, “One moment!” and throws himself upon the ground, pulling out a short stick as he does. He pushes the stick into the ground, and, pulling out a carpenter’s level, assures himself that the stick is vertical.

With a compass, the patient locates north and with a steel ruler, measures the precise length of the shadow cast by the stick.

Withdrawing a slide rule from his pocket, the patient calculates rapidly, then swiftly packs up all his tools and turns back to the pedestrian, saying, “It is now precisely 3:29 pm, provided today is August 16th, which I believe it is.”

The man can’t help but be impressed by this demonstration, and sets his watch accordingly.

Before he leaves, he says to the patient, “That was really quite remarkable, but tell me, what do you do on a cloudy day, or at night, when the stick casts no shadow?” The patient holds up his wrist and says, “I suppose I’d just look at my watch.”

After hearing that one of the patients in a mental hospital had saved another from a suicide attempt by pulling him out of a bathtub, the hospital director reviewed the rescuer’s file and called him into his office.

“Mr. Haroldson, your records and your heroic behavior indicate that you’re ready to go home. I’m only sorry that the man you saved later killed himself with a rope around the neck.”

“Oh, he didn’t kill himself,” Mr. Haroldson replied. “I hung him up to dry.”

The mother of a problem child was advised by a psychiatrist, “You are far too upset and worried about your son. I suggest you take tranquilizers regularly.”

On her next visit the psychiatrist asked, “Have the tranquilizers calmed you down?”

“Yes,” the boy’s mother answered.

“And how is your son now?” the psychiatrist asked.

“Who cares?” the mother replied.