By John McNamee (from https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/kafkas-joke-book )
Why did the chicken cross the road?
It had been crossing so long it could not remember. As it stopped in the middle to look back, a car sped by, spinning it around. Disoriented, the chicken realized it could no longer tell which way it was going. It stands there still.
“Who’s there?” Alois asked again, more insistently.
And so it went for years. It wasn’t until his deathbed Alois realized he was on the outside of the door.
“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”
“I don’t know,” Gregor told the faceless interrogator for the fiftieth time.
“We can’t help you if you won’t work with us. Perhaps another day in the machine will convince you to cooperate.”
What’s the difference between a lawyer and a catfish?
Nothing after Albert’s inexplicable transformation. Every breath was agony.
A horse walks into a bar. The bartender asks, “Why the long face?”
“I was born into servitude, and when I die, my feet will be turned into glue,” replied the horse.
The bartender realized he would not be getting a tip.
[Wearing arrow through head] This arrow does not bring the release I so desperately crave.
And the train “conductor” actually conducts:
In the London Review of Books personal ads, self deprecating humor is apparently the fashion. My favorite is:
I like my women the way I like my kebab. Found by surprise after a drunken night out, and covered in too much tahini. Before long I’ll have discarded you on the pavement of life, but until then you’re the perfect complement to a perfect evening. Man, 32. Rarely produces winning metaphors.
The title comes from the personals ad:
They call me Naughty Lola. Run of the mill beardy physicist — male, 46.