It's All About Holes

A hole walked into a bar and the bartender said, "What will it be?"
The hole said, "Can I have an ass, please?  I feel incomplete without one."



"Why did the hole cross from this side of the road to the other side?
"I don't know."
"Because it was repaired on this side."



"How many holes does it take to change a light bulb?"
"How many?"
"None.  Holes love the dark." 



"Why are you so happy?" asked one friend to another.
"Because," said the other friend, "I was walking down the street when I saw a hole in the ground.  I thought, 'I know the difference!' "

"Knock.  Knock,"

"Who's there?"

"Black."

"Black who?"

"Black Hole.  I'm canvassing the area because I've misplaced my gravity. Have you seen my gravity?"

"No, but if I do then I'll be sure to drop it off."

Is there a way to tell when a hole is depressed?

. . . So the bartender brought the hole an ass.

"Thank you!  Thank you!" said the hole.

And the bartender asked, "What smells?"

"This blog," said the hole.