Can we ban "Yo Momma" jokes from this sub? They're old, stupid, and have been done by literally everyone hundreds of times

He got diabetes and the doctors amputed both his legs.

My daughter(8) has started telling dad jokes, what does that say about me and my jokes?

It was full of dirt. Turned out it was a fishing scam.

Because there isn't mushroom for error.

The barber says "Be about two and a half hours." The guy leaves. A couple of days later, he shows up again with the same question. The barber says "About an hour and a half." The guy leaves again. About a week later, the guy shows up once more - "How long for a cut?" The barber states "About two hours." The guy leaves again. The barber tells his buddy Fred - "Follow this guy and see where he goes, he's come in three times, asks how long for a haircut, then leaves." Fred comes back an few minutes later, and the barber asks "So, did you follow him?". Fred said "I sure did!" "So where the heck did he go?" asked the barber. "Your house!" said Fred.

Nunchucks

One hot afternoon, farmer Jed was slouched against his rickety fence, chewing on a straw, staring out at his pasture. His cows, usually just standing there, dumb as bricks, were up to something odd. They weren’t grazing like normal. No, these cows were huddled in a circle by the old barn, heads low, tails swatting flies, and Jed could swear he saw something glinting in the dirt. Poker chips? Playing cards? He spat out his straw and muttered, “Well, that’s new.” He shuffled closer, boots crunching on dry grass, and there it was: his herd of Holsteins, playing a full-on game of Texas Hold’em. Bessie, the big boss cow, was nosing a pile of what looked like poker chips, though they smelled suspiciously like dried cow pies. Daisy, the scrappy one, flicked a card with her hoof and let out a smug moo, like she’d just raised the pot. Jed squinted harder. The grass they were chomping between bets wasn’t his usual clover. It had a weird, skunky whiff, and their eyes were redder than a sunset. Out of nowhere, a city guy in a cheap suit and cheaper cologne struts up, carrying a briefcase like he’s selling encyclopedias. “Name’s Rick,” he says, flashing a grin. “Heard you got some, uh, unique livestock, farmer. Mind if I take a gander?” Jed, still trying to wrap his head around his gambling cows, just shrugs and points to the pasture. “Knock yourself out, slick.” Rick swaggers over, leans on the fence, and his jaw hits the ground. The cows are deep in their game now. Mabel, the sneaky one, locks eyes with another cow, who snorts and folds her cards. Rick’s practically drooling. “Old man, this is unreal! Your cows are playing poker like they’re in Vegas! And what’s with that grass they’re eating?” The farmer scratches his neck, glancing at the cows. “Yeah, I don’t know what’s in that patch, but .." Rick’s eyes light up as he cuts the farmer off “Old man, you’re sitting on a fortune! Forget milk, you could take this show on the road. Cow poker! It’s the future!” He’s pacing now, waving his hands like he’s pitching a movie. “Picture it: lights, cameras, bovines bluffing their way to millions!” The farmer chuckles, shaking his head. “Good Sir, I ain’t about that circus life. I just wanna know who’s winning out there, ‘cause with my funny patch over there, this is one High Steaks game.”

Personally I've got a Sony surround sound system.

I knead to go to the store

It was the barkeep's first night tending bar in the small town's saloon. Suddenly a panicked citizen pokes his head through the swinging doors and yells, "Hey everybody! Black Bart's coming to town! Black Bart's coming to town!" and runs off. The panic spreads immediately and everyone scrambles over each other to get through the doorway and out of town. All that's left is the lone barkeep, trembling, as he wipes the counter. Soon he hears hooves in the distance, getting closer and closer. The ground shakes, the glasses rattle, as the sound gets louder and louder until a burly man astride a bison rides up to the railing in front of the saloon. He gets off, flexes his muscles, and drops the bison to its belly with one punch. Packed with guns, dressed in animal skins, he rips the swinging doors off their hinges and enters the saloon. The wide-eyed barkeep watches as the huge man looks around the room and then walks over to the counter, spurs jingling, boots leaving dents in the floor. The man takes out a massive bowie knife, jams it into the top of the counter, and stares at the barkeep. He says, "Bottle of whiskey" and throws down some money. The barkeep, by now trembling almost uncontrollably, pushes a bottle towards him. The man bites off the top of the bottle, spits it out, and swallows the contents. He throws the bottle away and says, "Another." Again, bites off the top, downs the contents, throws it away. The man then yanks the knife out of the counter, shoves it in his belt, and turns away. Still shaking, the barkeep manages to ask, "L-l-l-leaving already?" The man stops, slowly turns back to the barkeep and says, "Haven't you heard? Black Bart's coming to town."