Function party

The functions are having a party. Everyone is having fun, except for e to the x off in the corner by himself. The host comes up to him and says, "Enjoy yourself! Integrate!"

e^x responds, "That won't change anything!"

The others continue chatting among themselves. Suddenly, one cries "Watch out! A differentiation operator is coming!"

All immediately hide themselves under the tables, only e^x sits calmly on the chair.

The operator comes in, sees a function and says "Hey, you don't fear me?"

"No, I am e to the x", says the exponential.

"Good for you," replies the operator "I'm d/dy."

How to leave the planet

How to leave the planet:

1) Phone NASA. Their phone number is (713) 483-3111. Explain that it's very important that you get away as soon as possible.
2) If they do not cooperate, phone any friend you may have in the White House - (202) 456-1414 - to have a word on your behalf with the guys at NASA.
3) If you don't have any friends in the White House, phone the Kremlin (ask the overseas operator for 0107-095-295-9051). They don't have any friends there either (at least, none to speak of), but they do seem to have a little influence, so you may as well try.
4) If that also fails, phone the Pope for guidance. His telephone number is 011-39-6-6982, and I gather his switchboard is infallible.
5) If all these attempts fail, flag down a passing flying saucer and explain that it's vitally important you get away before your phone bill arrives.

(by KyjL from reddit.com)

Music theory

A C, an E-flat, and a G go into a bar. The bartender says: "Sorry, but we don't serve minors." So, the E-flat leaves, and the C and the G have an open fifth between them.

After a few drinks, the fifth is diminished and the G is out flat. An F comes in and tries to augment the situation, but is not sharp enough.

A D comes into the bar and heads straight for the bathroom saying, "Excuse me. I'll just be a second."

An A comes into the bar, but the bartender is not convinced that this relative of C is not a minor. Then the bartender notices a B-flat hiding at the end of the bar and exclaims: "Get out now! You're the seventh minor I've found in this bar tonight."

The E-flat, not easily deflated, comes back to the bar the next night in a 3-piece suit with nicely shined shoes. The bartender (who used to have a nice corporate job until his company downsized) says: "You're looking sharp tonight, come on in! This could be a major development."

This proves to be the case, as the E-flat takes off the suit, and everything else, and stands there au natural.

Eventually, the C sobers up, and realizes in horror that he's under a rest.

The C is brought to trial, is found guilty of contributing to the diminution of a minor, and is sentenced to 10 years of DS without Coda at an upscale correctional facility.

On appeal, however, the C is found innocent of any wrongdoing, even accidental, and that all accusations to the contrary are bassless.

The bartender decides, however, that since he's only had tenor so patrons, the soprano out in the bathroom, and everything has become alto much treble, he needs a rest—and closes the bar.