36 Funny 4th of July Jokes for Adults
Clean Fourth of July jokes for adults: fireworks, backyard cookouts, the grill and sunburn.
Funny 4th of July jokes for adults that are clean enough for the whole cookout. Fireworks at 2 a.m., the guy who won’t leave the grill, lawn chairs, sunburn and a dog hiding in the bathtub.
Fourth of July fireworks jokes (12)
Fake finales, eleven-second shows and a sparkler that gave up at “Bart.”
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Our HOA banned fireworks this year.
So at nine o’clock, the whole street stood in their driveways and yelled, “Boom.”
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My neighbor sets off fireworks every night in July. He says he’s celebrating his independence.
His wife says she’s planning hers.
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I tried to write my whole name in the air with a sparkler.
My name is Bartholomew. The sparkler gave up at “Bart.”
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The vet prescribed my dog some anti-anxiety pills for the Fourth of July fireworks.
I asked if they come in a size for whoever’s hosting.
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My neighbor set off fireworks in his backyard until 2 a.m. on the Fourth.
At 6 a.m., I mowed my lawn. Freedom goes both ways.
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The town fireworks show lasted twenty-five minutes.
Getting out of the parking lot took three hours. We nearly caught next year’s.
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Every fireworks show has a finale so big that everybody starts clapping and folding up their chairs.
Then they set off six more, and we all sit back down, embarrassed.
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Every year after the fireworks, my uncle announces they were better last year.
By his math, the first Fourth of July must have been unbelievable.
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I bought a firework called “Eagle’s Fury” with a screaming bald eagle on the box.
It went up six feet and made a sound like a polite cough.
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I spent $300 at the fireworks stand outside of town.
The show lasted eleven seconds. The receipt took longer to print.
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Every Fourth of July, my dog hides in the bathtub until the last firework is over.
This year my whole family came over, so I joined him.
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The sparkler box says each one burns for sixty seconds.
Then you spend twenty minutes holding a hot wire, looking for a trash can.
Cookout and barbecue jokes (14)
Secret sauce that’s ketchup, a 5 a.m. brisket and burgers cooked “whatever happened.”
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Fifty-six men risked everything to sign the Declaration of Independence.
Our cookout sign-up sheet can’t get one person to bring a salad.
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My uncle swears he can pick the perfect watermelon just by knocking on it.
He’s knocked on forty this summer. Not one has answered.
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Our neighbors throw a huge Fourth of July barbecue every year.
We’ve never been invited. We’re just downwind.
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My buddy says the secret to great barbecue is cooking “low and slow.”
Same way he returns phone calls and pays back money.
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I watched the big hot dog eating contest on TV this Fourth of July.
First sport I’ve ever watched and thought, “I could go pro.”
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My aunt stuck little flag toothpicks in every single dish at the Fourth of July cookout.
The potato salad looks like astronauts landed on it.
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At our cookout, I asked everybody how they wanted their burgers cooked.
Twelve different answers. Everybody got “whatever happened.”
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I spent $60 on citronella candles to keep the mosquitoes away from our cookout.
The mosquitoes used them for mood lighting.
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My brother-in-law spends every Fourth of July cookout sitting on the cooler.
So you can’t get a drink without hearing about his boat.
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At the cookout, my dad wondered out loud what’s actually in a hot dog.
Nobody answered. We all just started chewing faster.
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My uncle trains all year for our town’s Fourth of July hot dog eating contest.
He calls it training. My aunt calls it Tuesday.
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My husband started smoking a brisket at 5 a.m. so it’d be ready for our Fourth of July party.
We ate at 11 p.m. He called it “right on schedule.”
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The propane ran out halfway through our Fourth of July cookout.
Six men gathered around the grill, arms crossed, like it was a broken-down car.
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My uncle’s “secret” barbecue sauce recipe has been in the family for three generations.
It’s ketchup. We all know. Nobody has the heart to tell him.
Flag shirts, parades and lawn chair jokes (10)
Red-white-and-blue outfits, two-fire-truck parades and chairs that leave you looking like a waffle.
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My uncle showed up to the cookout in American flag shorts, an American flag shirt and an American flag hat.
Two people saluted him. One tried to fold him.
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We set up our lawn chairs at 8 a.m. to get a good spot for the parade.
The family in front of us had been there since Memorial Day.
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My dad has worn the same American flag shirt every Fourth of July for thirty years.
At this point, it belongs in the National Archives.
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Our whole family wore matching red-white-and-blue shirts to the county fair.
Three different people asked us where the bathrooms were.
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My wife put sunscreen on my back, gave me a pat and said, “You’re all set.”
Now I have a perfect white handprint on a very red back.
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On the Fourth, my husband declared his independence from yard work.
By the Fifth, I’d reminded him this house is not a democracy.
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My new camp chair popped out of its bag in two seconds flat.
Getting it back in took three adults and a pep talk.
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Our small-town Fourth of July parade is two fire trucks, a tractor and the mayor in a convertible.
It circles the block twice so it feels like a parade.
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I wanted to wear red, white and blue for the Fourth of July.
Sunburn did the red. My legs did the white. My mood did the blue.
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My grandpa still has one of those old woven lawn chairs with the plastic straps.
Sit in it wearing shorts, and you stand up looking like a waffle.