Boxing Day JOW #1212

 I may have overdosed on Christmas.  I dreamt I saw Frosty the Snowman kissing Santa Claus last night.  And the Jolly Green giant was wearing a red Santa suit doing his Ho Ho Ho thing.  Today there is Boxing Day, the day after Christmas.  I kind of like the concept of Boxing Day the way the Anglicans do it and I thought it might make a theme, but I really don’t have many Boxing Day jokes.  The British sense of humor is like their cooking: dry and tasteless.  Never the less, here are a few leftover jokes, in honor of all the leftovers from the holiday feasts.

 

Happy Boxing Day.   Because nothing says “The Spirit of Christmas” like fighting over a parking space at the mall.

 

Boxing Day, it’s a magical time of year when companies send you amazing emails with pictures of all the stuff you just brought from them, at half price.

 

What is the difference between Boxing Day in Canada and the US?
In Canada, it’s when they give to the poor. In the US, it’s when they return the crappy gifts you got for Christmas.

 

What’s the real boxing on Boxing Day?  Trying to fit all the holiday decorations back into their boxes.

 

I saw a recent advertisement: Buy Gold!  Customers who bought this also bought frankincense and myrrh.  

 

"I asked my wife what she wanted for Christmas. She told me, “Nothing would make her happier than a diamond necklace.” So I bought her nothing."

 

I asked my wife what she wanted for Christmas. She told me, “Nothing would make her happier than a diamond necklace.”

So I bought her nothing.  After all, don’t they say that nothing lasts forever.

 

I really appreciate how some people still give gifts to poor guys on the street, even after Christmas.  For example yesterday I saw someone giving his entire wallet to a guy who only had a knife.

 

Let’s shift off that topic

Two cows walk into a vegan bar. The bartender says, "We don't serve your kind here."

 

Yea though I walk through the Valley of Death I know that I cannot trust Google Maps.

 

Kindle: because reading wasn’t nerdy enough, we needed to add electronics.

 

The only thing flat earthers have to fear in sphere itself.

 

So what is the periodic table the rest of time?

 

I've reached the age where my prescription bill has caught up to my bar bill.

 

I just sold my homing pigeon – for the seventh time.

 

There is a special mushroom, that if you eat just once will be enough to feed you for the rest of your life.

 

Everybody knows that Albert Einstein was a genius, but his big brother Frank was a real monster.

 

If all the people in the world would join hands in a ring around the equator, a significant number of them would drown in the ocean.

 

If you watch Jeopardy backward it’s about people with money paying to get the answers to questions.

 

“Why isn’t Kelvin at work today?”

“Oh, he left.  Meet Celsius.  He’s our new temp.”

 

Here is a mathematical poem.  You can actually write this as an equation.  

A dozen, a gross, and a score

Plus three times the square of four

Divided by seven

Plus five times eleven

Is nine squared and not a bit more

 

A man noticed an active six-year-old girl wearing a Fitbit.

“Are you tracking your steps?” he asked her.

“No,” said the little girl. “I wear this for Mommy so she can show Daddy when he gets home.”

 

Two women snapping at each other.

“My body is a temple.  Yours is a nightclub.’

“Nightclubs have restricted access.  Temples are open to everyone.”

 

Once upon a time a woman whose passion was the harp.  Her harp was immaculate, 17th century, with ornate carvings, and was her pride and joy. One Christmas she met a man and fell instantly head over heels in love.  In an impulsive gesture she gave him her beloved instrument.  Imagine how she felt when she discovered he sold it in an online auction the next day.  She then sat down and began writing this song:  

“Last Christmas I gave her my harp, but the very next day, it was sold on eBay.”

 

And finally, an ending Christmas story

 

Post office workers are going through the mail and find a letter addressed simply To Santa

Since they've nowhere to send it to, they open the letter and find the most tragic childish scribbling:
"Dear Santa,
My name is Timmy and I live in an orphanage. I have no mom or dad. We have barely any heating and it gets very cold. I know you are very busy, but could you please send me a a hat, a scarf, and maybe some mittens?
Love,
Timmy"
The post office workers, heartbroken, pool in what they can, and buy the boy a hat and a scarf. Unfortunately, they couldn't collect enough for mittens. They send the gifts to the orphanage.
Two weeks later, as they come back to work after Christmas, they find another letter with the same, familiar handwriting.
"Dear Santa,
Thank you very much for your gifts. I received the hat and the scarf. I didn't get any mittens though. Must be those thieving assholes at the post office".