Mike Birbiglia Thank God for Jokes is more than a stand-up special — it’s a thoughtful, hilarious reflection on the art of comedy, the risks of honesty, and the fine line between laughter and offense. 🎙️ With his signature storytelling charm, Birbiglia turns everyday awkwardness into profound, laugh-out-loud moments that hit home for anyone who’s ever said “the wrong thing at the wrong time.”
From witty anecdotes about awards shows and marriage to his reflections on what makes a joke truly land, Thank God for Jokes is a timeless reminder that humor isn’t just about punchlines — it’s about perspective. Whether you’re a comedy fan or an aspiring performer, this special will make you laugh, think, and (of course) thank God for jokes. 🙌😂
Jokes You Can’t Explain 🧠
I tried explaining a pun to a mime. He wasn’t having it.
My joke bombed. Then I explained it. Now I’m banned from brunch.
A pun explained is a pun regretted.
You either laugh or you’re dead to me.
I explained a joke and lost a friend.
You know what’s funny? Not this, apparently.
Ever explain a pun to your cat? Welcome to showbiz.
“I get it,” they said. They didn’t.
I overexplained a pun. Now it’s a TED Talk.
My punchline has a footnote now.
Too Soon? Too Bad! 🕒
I made a 9/11 joke. It crashed.
Timing is everything. I missed it by a second.
I joked at a funeral. Guess who’s the ghost now?
Is it too soon? Yes. Tell it anyway.
I laughed at the wrong moment. Now I’m single.
Tried a dark joke. Audience went darker.
I said “too soon?” to a baby. He cried.
That joke was ahead of its time. Like, way ahead.
Too soon? Ask Twitter.
Just tell the joke. Pray later.
Passive Aggressive Puns 😑
I made a pun at brunch. No one laughed. Classic.
“That’s…funny,” she said. It wasn’t.
My punchline got ghosted.
I cracked a joke. They cracked a sigh.
“Interesting.” That’s code for never again.
“We should do this again sometime.” No we shouldn’t.
My joke was fine. You’re the problem.
Said a pun. She blinked. I left.
“Oh. That’s cute.” She’s lying.
It’s not silence—it’s aggressively quiet.
Cat’s Outta the Joke 🐱
I told a pun. My cat blinked. Rough crowd.
My feline doesn’t like stand-up. She prefers sit-down.
Cats are too cool for puns. But not tuna.
My cat walked out mid-joke. So rude.
“Paw-sitively terrible,” she meowed.
I tried a cat pun. She hiss-terically hated it.
Me: “Purr-fect joke.” Her: scratches couch.
Stand-up for cats? Call it fur-medy.
I bombed at the cat café. Fur real.
Even Garfield heckled me.
Brunch Is Not A Safe Space 🥞
I made a pun about eggs. The yolk’s on me.
Said “syrup” wrong. Got shamed.
Brunch is where jokes go to die.
I called it “brinner.” I was escorted out.
Overheard: “He’s doing wordplay.” Gasps.
I spilled mimosas and puns. Only one was forgivable.
“Avocado toast?” No. It’s avo-can’t.
Jokes at brunch? Un-toastable.
Quiche me, I’m hilarious.
That joke was over-medium awkward.
Jokes That Divide A Room 🚪
I told a pun and the table split—literally.
4 people laughed. 3 left. 1 threw bread.
A joke should unify. Mine caused a divorce.
My pun? Political, apparently.
I mentioned pineapple on pizza. Fired from work.
You’re either Team Groan or Team Giggle.
I dropped a dad joke. Audience now fatherless.
My pun had range. Too much.
That joke’s a dealbreaker. Like horoscopes.
You laugh. He cries. We all judge each other.
Stand-Up? More Like Sit-Down 😅
My comedy career? Crickets and couches.
I sat during my set. No laughs, but comfy.
They said “kill it.” I said “kill me.”
Mic dropped. Audience dropped me.
“How long’s your set?” Too long.
I opened with a pun. They closed the curtain.
You ever bomb so bad you tip yourself?
My opener was my closer.
I did five minutes. Four were apologies.
Comedy is pain. With a mic.
Birbiglia-Style Bummers 😂😭
“Thank God for Jokes.” Because that date? Yikes.
My sleepwalk story? Less cute, more ER.
“Sorry I said you look like a penguin.” I meant it.
My childhood trauma now has merch.
Turned heartbreak into a Netflix special.
Humor is my coping flavor.
The best jokes? Start with tears.
Told my worst moment onstage. Got claps.
Laughing through the cringe since 1989.
I joke because therapy is expensive.
Metaphors Be With You 🌌
Jokes are like soup—you slurp or choke.
Life’s a stage. I forgot my lines.
Humor’s the seatbelt for a car crash.
Jokes are landmines. Step carefully.
A pun’s a pizza—cheesy and hot.
My set was a rollercoaster. Mostly drops.
Stand-up is chess. I brought Uno.
Punchlines are magic tricks. Sometimes I vanish.
Jokes = band-aids for public shame.
A mic is just truth’s karaoke machine.
Jokes About Jokes About Jokes 🌀
I told a pun about puns. Got meta-shamed.
“You’re a joke.” Yes. That’s the point.
I wrote a joke about writing jokes. Spiral engaged.
Joke-ception: I got lost in the punchlines.
Stand-up is just organized awkwardness.
I made a joke about bombing. It bombed.
Jokes are mirrors. Cracked, like me.
“Was that a joke?” Yes. Help me.
My punchlines need a nap.
This joke has been workshopped to death.
Workshopped to Death ☠️
This joke’s been edited more than my college essay.
I’ve told this joke 412 times—and it still stinks.
My punchline’s been rewritten into witness protection.
“Still workshopping it,” I say—3 years later.
That joke was born in 2019. It still lives rent-free.
My set’s been revised more than the U.S. Constitution.
This bit has seen war, peace, and open mics.
I rehearsed this joke in the shower—and cried.
The setup? Tight. The payoff? Still pending.
“You should cut that joke.” I cut you first.
Laugh Track, Please 🎬
That joke needs a laugh track. Or CPR.
I inserted fake laughs—still bombed.
The only person laughing was… my mom.
I laughed at my own joke. It echoed.
“Is there supposed to be a punchline?” I hope so.
Comedy clubs should hand out participation claps.
I’m auditioning for America’s Got Meh.
When the laugh sign lights up but no one responds.
I got more laughs from the silence.
The audience laughed… at my face.
Joke Bombing Survival Kit 💣
A hoodie—to hide in afterward.
Spare punchlines—for when yours fail.
A flask—for hydration, probably.
Backup joke about bombing—because… you will.
Phone to “take a call” and never return.
Apology card for the front row.
Exit strategy: FIRE DRILL.
Comfort animal: invisible ferret.
Extra mic—in case you drop yours mid-fail.
Therapy business cards—pre-stamped.
Jokes I Shouldn’t Have Told 🧨
“You ever roast a nun?” Don’t.
I made fun of my boss. He was in the crowd.
My ex was in the room. She wasn’t amused.
I called a baby “weird.” Accurate, but costly.
Told a vegan joke. During VegFest.
Said “moist.” The room evaporated.
Accidentally insulted the entire Midwest.
Opened with a diarrhea joke. At a wedding.
I said I don’t like dogs. People booed. Dogs growled.
Made a pun about gluten. Audience had celiac rage.
Mispronounced And Misunderstood 🤷♂️
“Mike Bigbrilla?” Close enough.
My name got butchered like a cold cut combo.
Host introduced me as “Matt Berbinglee.”
“Birguglia?” Sounds like a pasta sauce.
They spelled my name wrong—twice.
“Birbiglia? Gesundheit.”
I said “I’m a comic.” They said, “A cosmic?”
“You’re that guy from NPR, right?” Sure.
I corrected them once. Then gave up forever.
My joke? Misheard. Their laugh? Unearned.
Jokes That End In Apologies 🙇♂️
“I’m sorry… that was supposed to be funny.”
“Please don’t cancel me, I have a cat.”
“Too soon?” Again, I apologize.
“In hindsight, that joke was… problematic.”
I gave them a refund—in emotional labor.
“That came out wrong.” Spoiler: it didn’t.
I apologized in the setup and the punchline.
“I’m growing. Slowly. Painfully.”
“I swear, I’m not usually this offensive.”
“Anyway… love you, Grandma.”
Jokes For Nobody 👻
I wrote this joke for 1 person—they weren’t there.
A niche joke so specific, it’s just for me.
“You had to be in 3rd grade in Ohio in 1999.”
That pun? Only funny if you watched Jeopardy last night.
The joke hit exactly zero demos.
I said “this is a deep cut.” It was a wound.
My joke landed like an inside joke at a stranger’s wedding.
“Wait, does anyone here know Latin?” Silence.
That punchline’s for film majors only. Specifically NYU.
Even I didn’t get my own joke.
Final Callback 🎤
Remember that pun from 10 minutes ago? Neither do they.
I saved the best for last. Too bad they left.
Brought it full circle—like a sad Ferris wheel.
The callback flopped. Like my dreams.
They clapped because I was done.
The lights dimmed. Mercifully.
I ended with a callback… to my therapist.
“That’s my time!” Thank God for clocks.
I got offstage to polite coughing.
Joke didn’t land—but I did.
Sleepwalking Into Punchlines 😴
I wrote this joke in my sleep. It shows.
Tried sleepwalking onstage. Hit a stool.
My dreams are funnier than my set. Tragic.
I once laughed in my sleep. It bombed there too.
Sleepwalked into a crowd. Still better reception.
I perform better unconscious. Ask my audience.
“You were great last night!” I wasn’t awake.
Sleep Mike is hilarious. Awake Mike? Eh.
I once dreamt I crushed. Then I woke up.
My pillow’s my best audience. Soft but supportive.
Opening Act for Disappointment 🎭
I was the opener for a jukebox.
My crowd? Three drunk aunts.
They introduced me as “Mike Who?”
I opened for a ventriloquist. His puppet did better.
“Keep it short,” they said. Then left anyway.
I got heckled… by my own mom.
The opener’s job is to lower expectations.
I once opened for an espresso machine.
“Warm them up?” I cooled the room to zero.
They clapped… for the host who came back.
FAQs
Q1: What’s Mike Birbiglia known for?
A: Telling a story you’ll laugh at… and feel bad about later.
Q2: Can I use his jokes at brunch?
A: Only if you want to be uninvited forever.
Q3: Why does his comedy feel like therapy?
A: Because you laugh through the wounds.
Q4: Is “Thank God for Jokes” on Netflix?
A: Yes. Watch it. Then overthink every joke for hours.
Q5: Is it okay to laugh at dark stuff?
A: Yes. Just… maybe not at a funeral.
Q6: Can cats be a comedic audience?
A: Only if you bribe them with tuna.
Q7: What if my joke divides a room?
A: Congrats—you’re a real comic now.
Q8: Should I pursue stand-up?
A: Do you like bombing and self-loathing?
Q9: Is timing really everything?
A: Ask the guy who bombed with a 2008 reference.
Q10: What’s the best thing about jokes?
A: When they hit… they heal.
Conclusion
Jokes can hurt, heal, divide, or unite. They reveal who we are—and who we hope to be. Thanks, Mike Birbiglia, for proving humor isn’t just funny—it’s necessary. If you laughed, cringed, or just blinked awkwardly like a passive-aggressive cat, share the puns, revisit punsplanet.com the special, and thank your funny bone.
