Redneck jokes

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Sorry, wrong door.
Okay.

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Federal Express
Federal Express who?
I don't know. I just deliver packages.

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Tom.
Tom who?
Tom Buchanan.
Hi Tom.

Knock knock
Who's there?
Pizza delivery guy.
Pizza delivery guy who?
You ordered a pizza?
Yes.
I'm the guy delivering it.
Great.

Knock knock
Who's there?
Susan.
Susan who?
Susan Caldwell.
I'll be right out, Susan.

Knock, knock
Who's there.
You might be a redneck if… you think tobacco is a vegetable.
You might be a redneck if… you think tobacco is a vegetable who?
I thought this was a redneck joke.
Nope. It's a knock, knock joke.
Oops.

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Boo
Boo who
Don't get so upset, crybaby!
What?
Ha! Ha! I made you say "boo-hoo"
You're a real idiot.
That wasn't necessary.

Knock knock
Who's there?
Creeping penis.
Creeping penis who?
I'm not crazy, I just need to get off this island. The doctors don't believe I invented the chocolate éclair. But I did. I'm going to burn them all and drink soup from their skulls! Happy soup! Untie me and I'll kill you last!

Knock, knock
Yo mama
Yo mama who?
Yo mama so fat, she caught a flesh-eating virus and that was three years ago.
I bet you're fat, huh?
I'm…
You are, aren't you? Fat!
I'm plumpish.

Knock, knock
Who's there?
FBI!
…
…
Hello? FBI! Let us in!
…
…nobody here…
Oh. Let's go boys!
(Phew!)

Knock, knock
Who's there?
There's a dead old woman in your driveway.
There's a dead old woman in your driveway who?
No. Seriously. There's a dead old woman in your driveway.
Actually, that's just my piss-drunk bar slut of a grandmother. She sells toothless mouth love for "mind eraser" shooters at the Tyson's Mall TGIFriday's. Let the whore sleep it off.

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Henry.
Henry who?
Henry Kissinger. Did you know that power is the ultimate aphrodisiac?
I'm not opening the door Henry.
Damn.

Knock, knock
Tremble mortal and despair – it is I, THE ANGEL OF DEATH!
Tremble mortal and despair – it is I, THE ANGEL OF DEATH who?
Actually, I'm here for Jones in #D1 but I need to take a monster crap and I hate to kill and THEN use the bathroom, you know? Its rude and the other way around, well it ruins my dramatic entrance. So…
You want to use my toilet?
Yeah?
Go right ahead.
Got anything to read?
Just the crossword.
You finished it.
Sorry?
Hold my scythe.
Hey! Don't forget to light a match.

The finals of the National Poetry Contest last year came down to two finalists. One was a San Francisco State University graduate from an upper-crust family; well-bred, well-connected and all that goes with it. The other finalist was a redneck from Texas A & M. Go figure.

The rules of the contest required each finalist to compose a four-line poem in one minute or less, and the poem had to contain the word “Timbuktu.”

The San Francisco State graduate went first. About thirty seconds after the clock started he jumped up and recited the following poem:

“'Slowly across the desert sand
Trekked the dusty caravan.
Men on camels, two by two
Destination -- Timbuktu.”

The audience went wild! How, they wondered if the redneck could top that?! The clock started again and the redneck sat in silent thought. Finally, in the last few seconds, he jumped and recited:

“Tim and me, a-huntin' went.
Met three whores in a pop-up tent.
They was three, we was two,
So I bucked one and Timbuktu”

What do a hurricane, a tornado, and a redneck divorce all have in common?

Someone's fixin to lose a house trailer...

Q: What do they call pall bearers in Oklahoma?

A: Carry-Oakies