Who’s there?
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I’m waiting.
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Um… I have no idea 
… it’s your joke 
Ok, um… Glock.
That’s the joke. I can’t tell it if you start it lol.
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If a tree falls in the woods and nobody hears it, did it really make a sound?
Will Rogers said,"When I make a joke it’s funny, but when Congress makes a joke it’s a law.
If all those representatives argued and screamed in the woods about gun control and nobody heard them, they should keep meeting there.
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@Bugleboy shared these two on another topic:
That’s like the old joke about the little lady who was stopped by a patrolman. After telling she had a concealed carry permit, he asked if she were carrying right then. She proceeded to tell him where she was carrying, including her backup, the .45 in the dash, the .357 in the console, and the shotgun and AR in the trunk.
“Lady, what are you afraid of?!”
Reply, " Absolutely nothing!"
Fellow goes to prison. That night he hears numbers being shouted out. After each number came different amounts of laughter. He asks his cellmate what’s going on. It seems all the jokes had been told so often that they just assigned numbers to them. Our fellow thinks he’ll try his hand at it.
“32!” No laughter. “23!” Only groans. He looks to his cellmate for an explanation. “Some people just don’t know how to tell a joke!”
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If it be Gun jokes ye be lookin’ for, then look no further then “Thank You for My Service” by Mat Best (NYT #1 Best Seller) . Can not recommend this book enough. Unless you are easily offended. Then I suggest you buy two copies. One to read and one to hit yourself over the head with every time you laugh.
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@ShawnShine just bought it on audible, thank you!
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Not a joke or probably factual, but I always get a kick out of the range training scenes from Coop’s Sgt York.
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I need to look for that book. I’ll only need one unless I want to sneak a copy into a liberal’s “Italian shoulder bag.” Remember that commercial?
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Two guys are duck hunting at a game management pond. A small farm bordered right up next to the pond.
One of the hunters shot a duck, and it fell right on top of the bordering farm house falling off into the front yard. When the hunter put down his Browning light 12 and went to pick up his duck, out walked the great big farmer.
“What do you think you’re doing on my property?” the farmer shouted.
“I’m getting my duck, sir.”
“That’s my duck!”
To make a long story just as long, the two argued over the duck for a while. Finally the farmer told the young hunter they’d solve the problem country style. The farmer told him they’d square off at each other and come up with as hard a kick in that spot as they could…taking turns. The farmer would kick first. The young hunter figured at his age and conditioning, he could easily out match the old farmer. He didn’t notice the farmer’s big steel toed boots.
The farmer came up with a kick that lifted the young fellow a good foot off the ground. Twisting and screaming, the sickening pain blazed for half an hour. Finally the young athletic hunter had walked it off and knew he could take the farmer down.
“Okay, get ready. My turn. Here comes pain!”
The farmer grinned. “Nah, you can have the duck.”
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