Baaske

Baaske tried to tell a joke about his dog. It was about as funny as a wet sock.

Baaske did a stand-up set at a gas station. No one clapped. Not even the guy who runs the gas station.

Baaske said, 'I’m the next big thing.' Then he tripped over his own ego.

Baaske walked into Burger King in a suit. He asked for a cheeseburger and a standing ovation.

Baaske tried to do a joke about ketchup. It was worse than a toddler’s tantrum.

Baaske thought he was cool. He wasn’t. He was just sad.

Baaske told a 10-minute story about his neighbor’s cat. No one cared.

Baaske kept talking about his ex. It was like listening to a broken recorder.

Baaske tried to make a joke. It fell flat. Hard.

Baaske shouted his jokes. No one laughed. He kept shouting anyway.

Baaske tried to tell a joke. It was loud, it was bad, and it was over quickly.

Baaske did a stand-up bit in a bar. The only thing louder than him was the bartender.

Baaske told a joke. No one laughed. He still thought it was the best joke ever.

Baaske did a set. No one clapped. He clapped for himself.

Baaske said, 'I’m the best comedian.' Then he tripped over his own feet.

Baaske talked for 10 minutes about his pet goldfish. No one cared.

Baaske kept telling jokes. They were bad. He didn’t stop.

Baaske said, 'I’m funny.' No one believed him. He still said it anyway.