Home / Topics / Jokes

Judge Jokes

What do you call an attorney who is too incompetent to do his job?
Your Honor
What do you say to a lawyer with an IQ of 50?
Good morning, Your Honor.
Did you hear that the Post Office just recalled their latest stamps?
They had pictures of the Court of Appeal judges on them ... and people couldn't figure out which side to spit on.
A group of terrorists burst into the conference room at the Ramada Hotel where the National Judicial Institute was holding its social awareness training program. More than 500 judges were taken as hostages. The terrorist leader announced that, unless their demands were met, they would release one judge every hour.
You’re trapped in a room with a tiger, a rattlesnake and a family law judge. Your gun has only two bullets. What should you do?

Shoot the judge. Twice.
An attorney passed on and found himself in Heaven (obviously not a family law lawyer), but was not at all happy with his accommodations. He complained to Saint Peter, who told him his only course of action was to appeal. The lawyer immediately appealed and was told it would take 3 years to hear his appeal. The attorney protested that this was unconscionable, but to no avail.

The lawyer was then approached by the devil who told him that he could have the appeal heard within a few days if the lawyer would change the venue to Hell.

When the lawyer asked why appeals were heard so much sooner in Hell, he was told "We have all the judges."
A red-faced judge convened court after a long lunch. The first case involved a man charged with drunk driving who claimed it simply wasn't true. "I'm as sober as you are, your honor," the man claimed. The judge replied, "Clerk, please enter a guilty plea. The defendant is sentenced to 30 days."
At the height of a political corruption trial, the prosecuting attorney attacked a witness. "Isn't it true," he bellowed, "that you accepted five thousand dollars to compromise this case?"

The witness stared out the window as though he hadn't hear the question.

"Isn't it true that you accepted five thousand dollars to compromise this case?" the lawyer repeated. The witness still did not respond.

Finally, the judge leaned over and said, "Sir, please answer the question." "Oh," the startled witness said, "I thought he was talking to you."
Two duck hunters ran into one another early one morning. One of them noticed that the other's dog was just sitting there, who no interest in retrieving any of the fowl his master downed.

The first hunter asked, "What's wrong with your dog? The last time I saw him he was one of the best bird dogs I'd ever seen!"

"Well," the other hunter replied. "His name's Lawyer. He used to run all over creation working hard and getting the job done. The one day, someone made the mistake of calling him Judge. Now all he does is sit on his ass and bark."
"All in all, I'd rather have been a judge than a miner. And what's more, being a miner, as soon as you are too old and tired and sick and stupid to do the job properly, you have to go. Well, the very opposite applies with judges."
Dead Judge

An family law attorney telephoned the governor just after midnight, insisting that he talk to him regarding a matter of utmost urgency. An aide eventually agreed to wake up the governor.

"So, what is it?" grumbled the governor.

"Judge Garber has just died" said the attorney, "and I want to take his place."

Replied the governor "Well, its OK with me if its OK with the undertaker." -- Peter Cook
The morning after a senior judge passed away unexpectedly, the court house receptionist answered the phone. "Is Madame Justice Smith there?" the caller asked. "I'm very sorry, but Justice Smith passed away last night," the receptionist answered.

"Is Madam Justice Smith there?" repeated the caller.

The receptionist was perplexed. "Perhaps you didn't understand me I'm afraid Justice Smith passed away last night."

"Is Madam Justice Smith there?" asked the caller again.

"Madam, do you understand what I'm saying?" said the exasperated receptionist. "Justice Smith is dead."

"I understand you perfectly," the caller sighed. "I just can't hear it often enough."
Father: If I called you a son of a bitch, what would you do?

Judge: I'd hold you in contempt and sentence you to five days in jail.

Father: What if I thought you were a son of a bitch?

Judge: I can't do anything about that. There's no law against thinking.

Father: In that case, I think you're a son of a bitch.
A father fresh from another irrational court ruling comes into a bar. Angrily he shouts "I think all family court judges are assholes!!"

A slurred response from the back of the bar is heard: "I resent that!"

The father peers into the back and asks "Why, are you a family court judge?"

"No," the voice slurs, "I'm an asshole."
A tourist wanders into a back-alley antique shop in San Francisco’s Chinatown. Picking through the objects on display he discovers a detailed, life-sized bronze sculpture of a rat. The sculpture is so interesting and unique that he picks it up and asks the shop owner what it costs.

"Twelve dollars for the rat, sir," says the shop owner, "and a thousand dollars more for the story behind it."

"You can keep the story, old man," he replies, "but I’ll take the rat."

The transaction complete, the tourist leaves the store with the bronze rat under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of the store, two live rats emerge from a sewer drain and fall into step behind him. Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster, but every time he passes another sewer drain, more rats come out and follow him. By the time he’s walked two blocks, at least a hundred rats are at his heels, and people begin to point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes of rats swarm from sewers, basements, vacant lots, and abandoned cars. Rats by the thousands are at his heels, and as he sees the waterfront at the bottom of the hill, he panics and starts to run full tilt. No matter how fast he runs, the rats keep up, squealing hideously, now not just thousands but millions, so that by the time he comes rushing up to the water’s edge a trail of rats twelve city blocks long is behind him. Making a mighty leap, he jumps up onto a light post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls the bronze rat into San Francisco Bay with the other, as far as he can heave it. Pulling his legs up and clinging to the light post, he watches in amazement as the seething tide of rats surges over the breakwater into the sea, where they drown.

Shaken and mumbling, he makes his way back to the antique shop.

"Ah, so you’ve come back for the rest of the story," says the owner.

"No," says the tourist, "I was wondering if you have a bronze judge.