Blind People Jokes Part 9

Arthur had been blind for nearly two decades, but he never let it dull his sense of independence or his sharp wit. Accompanied by his faithful Golden Retriever guide dog, Barnaby, Arthur strolled into the city’s most luxurious, high-end department store, where crystal chandeliers caught light he couldn't see and perfume scents hung heavy in the air. As they walked down the central aisle, surrounded by priceless porcelain, designer leather handbags, and delicate glass sculptures, Arthur suddenly stopped in his tracks. To the utter horror of the nearby floor managers and security guards, Arthur reached down, grabbed Barnaby by the hind legs, and lifted the seventy-pound dog completely off the carpet. He began swinging the dog in wide, dramatic circles above his head like a lasso, barely missing a five-thousand-dollar crystal vase. A panicked store manager rushed over, sweating profusely, and shouted, "Sir! Good heavens, sir, please stop! What on earth are you doing?!" Arthur calmly lowered the slightly dizzy dog back to the floor, straightened his dark sunglasses, patted Barnaby reassuringly on the head, and replied, "Oh, don't mind me, son. I'm just taking a quick look around."

Marcus had always been an adrenaline junkie, and losing his sight five years ago certainly wasn't going to change that. When he announced to his group of thrill-seeking friends that he had signed up for his first solo skydiving jump, they were understandably terrified. They gathered around him at the airfield, watching anxiously as his instructor gave him a final safety briefing. One friend, unable to contain his nervous anxiety, pulled Marcus aside and asked, "Marcus, I get that you're brave, but how are you possibly going to know when it's time to open your parachute? You can't see the altitude meter, and you can't see the ground coming up!" Marcus smiled warmly, adjusted his leather jacket, and said, "It’s simple, really. I have a tiny radio receiver built into my helmet, and my instructor will beep me at three thousand feet. That’s when I pull the ripcord." Relieved, the friend then asked, "Okay, fair enough... but how on earth do you know when you're about to land so you can bend your knees and brace for impact?" Marcus grinned, patted his friend on the shoulder, and replied, "Oh, that’s even easier. The leash on my guide dog goes completely slack."

An elderly blind man named Frank mistakenly wandered into a notoriously rough, dimly lit biker bar located on the outskirts of town. Unaware of his surroundings, he slowly navigated his way to the heavy mahogany bar, tapped his white cane against the footrest, and sat down on a leather stool. He ordered a double shot of whiskey, knocked it back in one smooth gulp, and turned toward the general direction of the room. Feeling in high spirits, he called out loudly to the bartender, "Hey buddy! Do you want to hear the absolute best blind joke ever told?" Instantly, the entire tavern fell completely silent. The heavy bass of the jukebox died out, and the clinking of pool balls stopped dead. The massive, burly bartender leaned over the counter, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly whisper. "Look, mister, before you tell that joke, I think you deserve a fair warning. I'm six-foot-four, two hundred and eighty pounds, and I'm blind. The guy sitting to your left is a world-champion heavyweight boxer, and he's blind. The two guys playing pool behind you are six-foot-six enforcers for a motorcycle club, and they're both blind. Now, think about it very carefully... do you really still want to tell that blind joke?" Frank paused for a long, quiet moment, tilted his head in deep thought, and finally sighed. "Nah, not if I'm gonna have to explain it four different times."