A premise for an antiantijoke walks into a bar...

The bartender says, sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises.

The premise is, like, “Leave the premises…? Oh, I get it, because I’m a premise, so you’re saying leave the premises. Nah, sorry, that’s just lame, and not even really an antiantijoke at all.”

The bartender merely repeats, stone-faced, “Sir, I’m going to ask you again to leave the premises.”

The premise just stares at him for a second, and then says, “Holy shit, you’re serious. Geez, okay, fuck. What a psycho. Fuck you, you racist asshole!” and begins to leave the bar, flipping off the bartender. “Welcome to Trump’s America!” he shouts to the other patrons as he heads for the door.

As he approaches the exit, a priest, a rabbi and a duck walk into the bar.

The bartender greets them warmly, and says, “What’ll it be gentlemen? The regular?”

The premise is suddenly confused. For all his bravado, the premise was genuinely upset by what seemed to be the blatant prejudice of the bartender against premises, but now here was the bartender happily serving another premise.

He shouts to the bartender, “Hey, how come I have to leave, but you’re serving this other premise?”

The bartender says, “Hey, I never premised you a rose garden.”