A Still Heart Puns

Dave was bragging to his boss one day,

"You know, I know everyone famous there is to know"

"Go on - Just name someone, anyone, and I bet that know them"

Tired of his boasting, his boss decides to call Dave's bluff,

"OK, Dave, how about Tom Cruise?"

"Not a problem boss"

"Tom and I are old friends, and I can prove it"

So Dave and his boss fly out to Hollywood and knock on Tom Cruise's door.

Tom Cruise is at home and answers the door himself and shouts,

"Dave! What's happening?"

"Great to see you!"

"Come on in for a beer!

Although shocked and more than a little impressed, Dave's boss is still sceptical and he tells Dave that he thinks him knowing Cruise was just pure luck.

"No, no, just name anyone else then"

Dave says.

"President Biden!"

His boss quickly retorts.

"Yup"

Dave says, "We're buddies from years ago"

"Let's fly out to Washington and I'll show you"

So they fly out to Washington and go on the Whitehouse tour"

"While walking through the White House, Biden himself appears, spots Dave on the tour and motions him and his boss over, saying,

"Dave, what a surprise,it's great to see you again after all this time"

"I was just on my way to a meeting but you and your friend come on in and let's have a cup of coffee first and catch up"

After they leave the White House grounds the boss tells Dave that he's still not entirely convinced.

Dave again implores him to name another famous person.

After thinking about it for a long timethe boss replies with,

"The Pope!"

"Sure thing!"

Says Dave,

"I've known the Pope for years - since before he became Pope in fact"

So off they fly to Rome.

Dave and his boss are assembled with the masses in Saint Peter's Square at the Vatican.

Dave says,

"This will never work"

"I can't catch the Pope's eye among all these people"

"Tell you what, I know all the Pope's guards here as well so let me just go upstairs and I'll come out on the balcony with the Pope."

Sure enough, half an hour later Dave emerges with the Pope on the balcony, but by the time Dave returns, he finds that his boss has had a heart attack and is surrounded by paramedics.

Making his way to his boss' side, Dave asks him,

"What happened?"

His boss looks up and says,

"It was the final straw"

"You and the Pope came out on the balcony and a Japanese tourist next to me said, to me... "

"Who the hell is that on the balcony with Dave?"

Doctor to my son: your heart is making sounds, "bu bump bu bump"...

3 year old son proceeds to dance.

Doctor: oh no, we need you to stay still for this.

Me: Can you blame him when you drop a sick beat like that?

Some stories have hooks.

This story has a bloody good one.

It's about love—

Or at least marriage.

My marriage.

At heart, it's your typical fish out of water story, but like I said there's a hook.

The hook's in the beginning.

Although it's really the tail end that's most moving—at least now, when our love's drying up.

Understand:

I'm a fisherman, and I caught my wife with another man.

Well, I caught the man first.

I used Craigslist.

But I suppose the details don't really matter. It's enough to know that by the time he was naked in the shed it was too late for him to change his mind.

He broke down easily. He wasn't particularly thick skinned.

That's where the hook came in—

pushed through a fold of flesh on his back.

He wasn't much in the size department, but I didn't intend for him to get hung up on it. Unfortunately, he kept trying to escape, so what choice did I have? Then he seemed quite insecure, so I pierced him with another steel hook just in case.

Like I said:

Bloody good hook.

After he stopped struggling, I took him down and dragged him to my boat. Then we went fishing.

Hold on, though.

I may need to backtrack a little, because you may be wondering how I even knew she was out there.

The answer is: I'd already seen her swimming a few times.

It was love at first sight.

Like many couples nowadays we met on the net.

So back to when I was fishing:

I was in my boat with the Craigslist man with the steel hooks in his back. I had tied a thick rope to one of the hooks, placed the man onto a net, and pushed them both overboard. He splashed and choked, attracting a lot of attention.

I waited for her call.

It came.

She sounded so near to me.

When she swam just close enough to the Craigslist man in the water, I pulled in the net—and there she was: shining, mine to the gills and writhing so enticingly!

I took her ashore.

I placed her in a water tank and told her she would be my wife.

I screwed her—

shut.

For days I watched her bang—

on the glass.

Until one day it happened: the glass cracked, the tank broke open, and with the water she spilled onto the floor.

Now here I am, watching my marriage fall apart.

Her gills are barely stirring.

Her face: dry and still.

It's only her scaly tail that's still gently moving.

I caught my wife with another man. I met her on the net. I thought our love would last forever, but now, listening to her shriek, I realize I was catfished! I wanted to marry a siren—but this thing is nothing

Bump…

Bump…

Bump…

Walking faster, he looks back and through the fog he makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him.

Bump…

Bump…

BUMP…

Terrified, the man begins to run toward his home. The casket still bouncing quickly behind him.

Faster…

Faster…

FASTER…

Bump…

Bump…

BUMP…

He runs up to his door, fumbles with the keys, opens the door, rushes in and slams and locks the door behind him.

Rushing up the stairs to his bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding. His head is reeling. His breath is coming in sobbing gasps.

With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping towards him.

The man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is cough syrup!

Desperate, he throws the cough syrup as the casket!

And…

The coffin stops….

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

Quick backstory, my Dad was rushed to the hospital last night with an acute pericardial effusion. Of course, we didn't know the cause at the time, so when the Doc came into my Dads room in the ER to tell him what's going on and what they were going to do, emergency surgery, this is how the conversation went...

Doc: Mr FloatyMcBoatFace's Dad, You have fluid building up around your heart, an Acute Pericardial Effusion, and we have to go to surgery right away to get that fluid out of there.

My Dad: Well, good thing it isn't an Obtuse Pericardial Effusion...

The entire family groaned. The Dr and Nurse couldn't help but laugh after a few seconds of what I assume was shock.

Anyway, he seems to be doing fine, he's still in the hospital under observation though.

So this dad likes to listen to his daughter's prayers every time she does them. One night when he is standing by her door, he overhears her say "God bless mom, God bless dad, God bless grandma, and goodbye grandpa." The dad is thinking "Ok that was pretty weird, but whatever."

The next morning, he learns that the grandpa DIED. He remembers what his daughter said last night and thinks "Ok umm this could all just be a coincidence" and he thinks nothing of it.

A month later and the daughter is doing the prayers again. "God bless mom, God bless dad, and goodbye grandma."

Once again, the dad learns the next morning, that the grandma has died from a heart attack. Now he's a little freaked out and thinks "This definitely cannot be a coincidence now, but it still could be, so whatever."

A few weeks later, he hears from his daughter's room, again, "God bless mom, and goodbye dad." Now he is totally freaking out because he thinks he's gonna die today. He spends all day being really cautious so he, you know, doesn't die. At 12:00am, he thinks "Yes! I made it! I didn't die!"

Once he gets home from work, he goes over and he tells his wife, "Honey, I've had a really bad day today and-"

The wife cuts in and says, "Yea me too! The mailman died on our porch!"

~this is my first post so ╮(─▽─)╭ ~

A while back, I had a small housewarming cookout. While my dad was eating a burger and I was still on the grill, he had some sort of episode where his heart stopped. Ambulance came and took him to the hospital and now he's doing fine again.

However... He tells all his friends now "You should try my son's grilling. He makes killer burgers. They're absolutely to die for"

facepalm

Now THAT'S a devoted dad-joker

It still holds a special place in my heart.

EDIT: I somehow JUST saw the Mod Sticky post from last week, where a lot of users have expressed similar sentiments to these. I apologize to the mods if this is not appropriate and respect your decision if you want to delete it. I just wanted to see if people were thinking the same kind of thing. Still, read it if ya like.

It used to be that /r/dadjokes was a place to post actual stories of real dad humor. 'My dad pulled out this groaner at dinner.' 'Just became a dad...I think I get it now!' These are the things that warm my heart and tickle my corny bone. And I don't think I'm alone.

Now, we're arrogant enough to think we know the formula for dad humor, so we can post anything reminiscent of it, and it counts as a dad joke. It's as if we think we own dad humor now, and we can bend it and shape it at will.

Let me tell you, folks. WE DO NOT OWN DAD HUMOR.

Even the dads among us don't own it. I think the universe just channels it through them in brilliant, glorious, involuntary sneezes. Some are more deft than others, and are seen by the universe as more worthy outlets. But they do not own it.

We can get close to elusive heart of dad humor, we can approach it, we can dance around it...but we can never touch it. This is where I take issue with posts like this one, which currently has over 4000 upvotes and 2000 net karma. Is it reminiscent of dad-like punly-ness? Would a dad chortle heartily at reading it? Yes, almost certainly yes. But does that make it a dad joke? No...I would argue not.

Dad jokes are also not just about the jokes themselves. They're about the response--that he manages to be surprised at his own genius, even on the eightieth repetition. They're about the face-palms and straight stares of family members. What is a dad joke without context?

My proposed solution: ban link/image posts. I wish it wouldn't have to come to that, but I can't see another way to get back on track to the real goal here. I have hover zoom--I understand the desire for instant gratification. I've skipped over interesting looking videos because they required a click.

But that's not why I come here.

I understand that there are legitimate dad jokes transmitted via text, or perhaps requiring a bit of visual context. At this point, though, I think they are a necessary sacrifice for a righteous cause. They can always be transcribed into text, or included in a self-post. Maybe it seems a bit extreme, especially in the face

My dad has this habit of pretending he didn't hear what you said, and then "repeating" it. Like if I said I was going to see an art show, he'll say, "You're going to a FART show? I had no idea you'd have any interest in that!" Lots of jokes along those lines, amongst others.

When I was younger I would laugh because he was kinda funny, and also to make him happy, but as I've gotten older I laugh not JUST because he's funny (in a corny way) but because the fact he still makes these jokes makes me so happy and really warms my heart. My mom is physically disabled, my dad has a bunch of health issues, we've all suffered terribly at times because of all this illness. And no matter how bad it gets, my dad is always there trying his hardest to put a smile on other people's faces and to lighten the mood a bit with his jokes. I've always been the type of girl to mope and be depressed when things are hard, but as I've gotten older I've tried to be more like my old man because I think it's something really special and admirable and selfless about stepping outside of your own negativity to give others something to laugh at or smile about. My dad is such a fuckin hero, I love him so much, and I can't imagine how unbearable this world would seem at times without him trying to make us all laugh.

So to all you dads telling your corny dad jokes, don't ever stop. Your kids and wife might groan or roll their eyes, but inside they love their corny old man and appreciate the goofy puns and fart jokes you tell!

I grew up in Vermont. Around my town were plenty of dairy farms, inviting the always wonderful manure aroma. An aroma that nearly forced my father to inhale deeply through his nose, saying, "Ah, fresh Vermont air!"

That's an excellent Dad one liner, as are most dad jokes, but he had another great one that I'm getting to.

You see, the hay bails we saw growing up in Vermont were mostly the cube variety. Hay bailing technology at the time created cubes of hay, so that's what dotted the fields they'd graze in.

As we grew older, we starting noticing the now more common round bails of hay. Dad was not pleased.

I asked him what the problem was or, at least, what his problem was with the round bails. The best jokes are set up when you ask for them.

So, he tells me. New farming technology allowed the round bails to be created more efficiently. They used less fuel in the bailers, took less passes on the field to gather the hay. They used less twine, and even though they didn't fill a truck as well as square bails, there was still a net monetary gain from the efficiency gained elsewhere.

However, studies were done on the bails. The cows approached them differently due to the different alignment of surface area. The way the rain hit the bails and rolled off as opposed to soaking in leached nutrients out of the hay. Some cows even mistook the shape of bail for another animal, and approached them so nervously that their heart rates were known to raise significantly; such a rate that a tinge of acidity could be tasted by those in the know in their milk.

What all of this amounted to... is that with the new round bails of hay, the cows just weren't getting a good square meal.

HI I’m Tim the turtle, yes a real turtle. And I would like to tell you the story of my best friend. I once had a friend by the name of Sam. Sam of course was a clam. A real live honest to goodness clam. He was my best buddy, but unfortunately he smoked and drank and ran around with loose women (and a few men). I was more of the goodie two shoes type. I never drank, never smoked, I didn’t even swear. But for some reason Sam and I were the best of friends. I guess you can say we were the epitome of opposites attracting. One day as we were hanging out walking along the beach Sam, after his fifth cigarette in a row, had a heart attack and died. I was heart broken. My best friend died right there in front of me and he never repented his evil ways. I was sure he would spend eternity in damnation. Sigh. Being the goodie two shoes type I was still extremely healthy well into my old age. I missed my friend terribly for many years. On his birthday I would host a party and invite his old stripper girlfriends and poker buddies around to relive stories. It was always a fun evening, but in the end left me more lonely than before. Eventually, my broken heart couldn’t stand it anymore and I too died. I was pleased to find that there was a heaven. Being an almost saint I was whisked directly past the line to the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter. A big grin erupted on his face and he came right around his desk to give me a great big hug. “Tim”, he said, “You have been such a good person back on earth that God has asked me to grant you any wish you would like before even entering heaven”. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I thought for a minute, I guess God expected me to ask for more time on earth, but I knew what I really wanted to do was to visit with my old friend Sam. So I asked. Poor St. Peter didn’t know what to say. You know Sam is in Hell right? Well I knew that was a strong possibility so I wasn’t surprised. Peter excused himself for a while and went to check with the big guy himself. He was gone quite some time, but eventually he returned. Peter said my request was approved, but under a few conditions. First, I would have to carry a golden harp as a passport back into heaven. This harp could only be carried by a good soul so I couldn’t be replaced by a look alike demon. Second, I would have to return by midnight. God didn’t want me to face too much temptation. I agreed to these conditions and took the highway down to hell. (Nope n

Long post is long:

Her: Remember dad's tomato bushes? Well they're attacking! At least one is leaning across the path trying to get at my window... We had the war of the roses, now its time for the attack of the tomatoes!

Me: I don't remember anything about tomato bushes. From one battle to the next.

Her: Yep! Lookout tomatoes here comes the chutney recipe!

Me: I can just imagine a cucumber campaign. Operation onion would be next, which will fail, causing everyone to cry. Dill Day follows, a great success for the allied gardeners. All too soon though, the kamikaze carrots set in, utterly ruining the radish raid. The mushroom maneuver is employed, saving the troops, allowing them to deal the final blow in the asparagus assault!

Her: Don't forget the pumpkins want to supply ground cover with heavy support...

Me: Ah yes, the pumpkin paratroopers.

Her: Thyme is running out...

Me: Prepare the beetroot bombs!!!

Her: Aim for Potato Garden!

Me: Fire the capsicum! Deploy the celery team!

Her: Bring in the egg plant division to support the capsicum!

Me: This is it boys, life or dirt! I want a passionfruit unit to find us a vantage point, and the strawberry unit to surround them!

Her: We had better bring the lettuce up to date!

Me: The cabbage are under withering fire, we need support from the raspberry division! The potatoes are mashed, so well need to send the zucchini in their place!

Her: The zucchini can't take that heavy fire, they'll be grated. Send spinach for some extra iron. The sweet potatoes are digging in at the ridge.

Me: Prepare the watermelon bomb, we need to finish this! The eggplant were squashed, deploy the broccoli brigade! The beans need to get out of there, or they'll be split!

Her: Cauliflowers are going in to retrieve the beans. How brave to risk their florets!

The corn commandos are deployed, but the artichokes are all out of heart, we need to boost morale.

Me: The leeks are down! They'll be flattened if we don't do something!

Are the spinach still operational?

Her: Too bad the pepper isn't on our side, they're well seasoned troops.

Spinach is a go!
Nothing has touched it...

Me: But wait! We still have the chillies to give them heavy fire!

Her: And the squashes and peas!

Me: The ginger is holding it's ground, but it's being cut down by the pineapple!

The basil should make things interesting, send them to aid the potatoes.

**Her:

The steaks were high so she stole them.

She said it was a mis-steak but they were in her bag!

It was a steak to the employee's heart when the lady said, "My kids have nothing to eat....."

When the employee caught the thief, her manager said, "Well done!" to which the employee replied, "No, they're still raw."

A lady tried stealing steaks from a dollar tree where I live. I guess she had a lot of missed steaks.

Dad sent this yesterday. Ouch.

Upon hearing that her elderly grandfather had just passed away, Katie went straight to her grandparent's house to visit her 95 year-old grandmother and comfort her. When she asked how her grandfather had died, her grandmother replied, "He had a heart attack while we were making love on Sunday morning." Horrified, Katie told her grandmother that 2 people nearly 100 years old having sex would surely be asking for trouble. "Oh no, my dear," replied granny. "Many years ago, realizing our advanced age, we figured out the best time to do it was when the church bells would start to ring. It was just the right rhythm. Nice and slow and even. Nothing too strenuous, simply in on the Ding and out on the Dong." She paused to wipe away a tear, and continued, "He'd still be alive if the ice cream truck hadn't come along."

Paul has a shitty life, his wife constantly berates him, his job sucks, his boss is a bully, his car is a shitty 85 ford pinto with a cracked windshield and is in bad need of a new transmission and to top it all off he's chubby, balding, and he has a small penis.

The only thing good in Paul's life is his friend Artie. Artie isn't the brightest bulb in the world, but he's always been there for Paul in the tough times. On October 5, 1953 Artie stood up for Paul against his bully in 7th grade. Artie got his ass handed to him at that time, but so did Paul. That incident resulted in a life long friendship. Paul and Artie went to the same High School together. They traveled around Europe that one summer in college. Artie was Paul's best man at his wedding. Everyone thought speech Artie gave was terrible, But Paul loved it Artie was his best friend.

Artie's life wasn't much better either, he never had the smarts for that great Job. In fact he was stuck in a dead end job as a construction labourer. Artie's car was pretty shitty too. Artie never married, but he was happy in the knowledge that at least he didn't end up with Paul's shitty wife.

For Paul's 46th birthday Artie was pretty broke, so all he could get his friend was a single lottery ticket. Artie being the sentimental guy that he was picked the date of the start of their friendship, and their respective ages (46, 45). Paul loved the present, and thought that the two of them should go to the Legion that friday to split a round of beers and listen to them call out the numbers.

On Friday they are both sitting there at the Legion having a laugh over a couple of beers when the cute lottery girl comes on the t.v. to read out the numbers. Paul pulls out the ticket and spreads it out on the beer stained table in front of them. The lottery girl starts reading out the numbers, 45, 10, 05. Both of Paul and Artie's hearts start beating, thats 200$ already. 53, Holy crap thats like a 10, 000 ticket. They both start losing their shit. 46....... Paul feints. He just won the jackpot. 37million dollars.

Two minutes later Artie finally revives Paul. Paul and Artie celebrate the night away, buy round after round for the people at the Legion and get absolutely shittered. They close out the bar and as the ugly lights come on they stumble blitzed, singing, onto the street arm in arm with the winning lottery ticket in hand and start the long walk back to Paul's place.

Halfway home, Paul comes to two drunken

I was born with tof condition aka bad heart that's now good. Anyways tonight we were talking about how I am still lazy even though the hearts fixed and I don't do lots of activity now... and then this

"I guess your heart isn't in it"

Recently, Joe has been under the slight suspicion that his wife is cheating on him. So, one day he comes home early from work, to his crap-shoot apartment on the eighth floor, and hears her scurrying around when he enters. Almost as if there's another person in the house. When he calls out her name she hollers back that she just ran into the shower. So he investigates the bedroom and encounters a shocking surprise... a pair of hands dangling from the other side of the window sill! Those of a grown man, hanging on for dear life. Infuriated at the sight of the man who's sleeping with his wife, Joe takes the bedside lamp and starts bashing the guy's fingers until he falls eight stories onto the sidewalk. Only he's still alive, writhing and broken. So Joe hauls the refrigerator from the kitchen out the window, sending it down onto the poor sucker, killing him instantly. Now the hysteria of the moment induces a fatal heart attack and Joe himself, dies. So now, as he's up at the pearly gates, St. Peter is telling all the incoming souls that in order to gain access into heaven, they need to provide a solid account of how they died. After hearing Joe's story, St. Peter allows him in. The next man in line says that he was tanning in the sun, drunk, on the roof of his apartment building when he fell off, only to catch hold of a window sill that could have saved his life, until a crazed bastard beat his fingers and threw a refrigerator onto him. St. peter tells him that he's a shoe-in. And when he asks the next guy in line how he ended up deceased, the guy replies, "...So I'm naked in a refrigerator, right?"

Earlier my pals and I wanted to have a heart attack for lunch so we go out and pick up some sonic

My buddy orders a blue raspberry freez-e and the server ask:

"Do you want nerds on that sweetie"

without hesitation "Will we have to raise them and feed them daily? "

moans and groans And all we hear over the speaker is" I'm so done with this fucking job"

"I'm sorry did I give you guys chills?

I'm still laughing about this, edit is for formatting I'm on mobile