And That's the Truth Puns

What, the actual Fuck.

A high schooler wants to ask his best female friend to prom. Because they’ve been friends for so long, he really wants to make his “promposal” special. He talks to his friends, he talks to her friends, and spends days planning the perfect moment. Happily, she says yes!

Over the next couple of months, she sends him different styles and colors of ideas for her dress. He tells honestly that she’s always been beautiful to him, and privately to himself, he is now realizing he has strong feelings for her. He knows he needs to tell her.

The night of the prom, he’s extremely anxious. What if he says something stupid? What if she laughs at him or doesn’t return his feelings? What if she thinks he’s a terrible dancer? All of these thoughts are swirling around in his mind as both their parents fuss over them and make them pose for a million photos.

They get to the prom and he’s even more anxious. It’s dark, it’s loud, it’s crowded. They have to shout to be heard. But she grabs his hand, leads him to the dance floor, and they forget everything and everyone around them. A while later, as the songs have gotten slower, he can feel his heart pounding. He thinks it’s finally the right time. He leans down and whispers the truth in her ear, the truth about having loved her since they met in second grade. She starts to cry happy tears, saying she’s always loved him too, and they kiss. As the song ends and changes to something fast again, he asks her if she’d like to sit and have a drink. She says yes, could he please get her some punch?

He feels like he’s walking on clouds as he goes over to where the drinks and food are laid out. He wants to get back to her right away and hopes he doesn’t have to wait too long at the refreshments table.

He makes his way through the crowd, and is able to get their drinks and return to his waiting love within just a couple of minutes. Because, would you believe it?

There was no punch line.

A woman and her 12-year-old son were riding in a taxi in Detroit. It was raining and all the prostitutes were standing under awnings.

"Mom," said the boy, "what are all those women doing?"

"They're waiting for their husbands to get off work," she replied.

The taxi driver turns around and says, "Geez lady, why don't you tell him the truth? They're hookers, boy! They have sex with men for money."

The little boy's eyes get wide and he says, "Is that true Mom?"

His mother, glaring hard at the driver, answers, "Yes."

After a few minutes the kid asks, "Mom, if those women have babies, what happens to them?"

She said, "Most of them become taxi drivers."

6 never did trust 7. Sure, they worked closely together, but 7 always seemed at odds with him. 6 always preferred the company of 4, a perfect 10 of a duo, even though 2 kept them apart. But when it came to 7? 6 always summed it up to bad luck. Then, 6 found the truth. 6 respected 9, even though lewd jokes always seemed to be made about the two. 6 found that 3 and himself could come together and be seen as equal to 9. When 9 was removed, 6 had a very negative feeling. Some were considered prime suspects in 9’s death. 2, 3, 5, and 7. 6 knew it had to be 7. His involvement with 9 added up two well. 6 snuck into 7’s house. He looked up from the floorboards, and found himself under 7. An admittedly inappropriate position for him, but 6 saw the proof he wanted: 9’s body, half devoured. 7 was a cannibal... 7 8 9. 6 has spent the remainder of his days terrified of 7, worried that someday 7 will learn what 6 knows... And promptly solve his problem.

First time post - I just had to share this.

After years of training my wife that my sons Xbox games can't always be paused instantly, she has at last got used to the idea and actually asks if it can be paused.

Her ( to son): Can you pause your game and give me some help ?

Son: Not right now, I'm in the middle of a level.

Her: Ok, let me know when you can pause it.

Me: Did you check he was telling the truth ?

Her: Why?

Me: Because it could be a case of pausable deniability.

Then..... I got that look...

When Harry Met Salad

What About Ke-Bob

Cumin to America

Weekend at Bearneaise II

Steakin I, II, & III

A Few Good Salmon

You’ve Got Kale

Shawshank Re-Dim Sum

Romancing the Scone

An Éclair to Remember

Roman Hollandaise

Glazed and Confused

Bill & Ted’s Eggcellent Adventure

The Evil Bread

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Shrimp

Fondue the Right Thing

Ribeyes Wide Shut

Mignons

Plante of the Grapes

Spider Manchu

Sushis All That

A Wok to Remember

Marsala-la Land

Apocalypse Cow

Die Chard

Die Chard with a Vinaigrette

Hogan’s Gyros

The Sand Latkes

A League of their Macaroni

Revenge of the Curds

Rush S’More

Braising Arizona

Demolition Ham

10 Things I hate About Ewe

Saladin

Oliver and Com-penne

Dirty Rotten Chanterelles

Sex and the Satay

The Truth About Cats & Hotdogs

Morella Enchanted

Provolone Together

Clear and Pheasant Danger

The Big Chili

Lémon: The Professional

Ava-Tartare

Hocous Pocous

High Fi-Deli Meat

Madagascargot

The Fifth Elementos

Muensters Inc.

There’s Something About Rosemary

I Am Ham

Quiche Lorraine Man

Barley & Me

Lentil Giants

Peggy Soufflé Got Married

Face Stroganoff

Con Gruyére

Fast Times at Porridgemont High

Bok Choys in the Hood

Papillonion

Requinoa for a Dream

Serial Cardamom

DEAR NEIGHBOUR: Hi, Fred, this is Richard, next door. I've got a confession to make. I've been riddled with guilt for a few months & have been trying to get up the courage to tell you face-to-face. At least I'm telling you in this text, & I can't live with myself a minute longer without your knowing about this. The truth is that, when you're not around, I've been sharing your wife, day & night. In fact, probably much more than you.
I haven't been getting it at home recently, & I know that that's no excuse. The temptation was just too great. I can't live with the guilt & hope you'll accept my sincere apology & forgive me. Please suggest a fee for usage, & I'll pay you. Regards, Richard

NEIGHBOUR'S RESPONSE: Fred, feeling very angry & betrayed, grabbed his gun, went next door, & shot Richard, killing him. He went back home, shot his wife, poured himself a stiff drink & sat down on the sofa and calmed down. Fred then looked at his phone & discovered a 2nd text message from Richard.

2ND TEXT MESSAGE: Hi, Fred.
Richard here again. Sorry about the typo on my last text. I expect you figured it out & noticed that the darned Auto-Correct had changed "wi-fi" to "wife".
Technology, huh? It'll be the death of us all.

Set in Northern China, this movie follows the rite of passage of a jaded, aimless Chinese chef who falls in love with a worn out cooking pan that he and his friends once scorned. The two develop a powerful and inspirational relationship in which they discover truths about cooking that take most people a lifetime to learn. It's called A Wok to Remember

I came home from work the other night and as I walk in Better Man by Pearl Jam is on the stereo, and my wife is setting out a nice juicy steak for me.

I looked her right in the eye's and told her truthfully that "It doesn't get Eddie Veder than this"

She punched my shoulder...

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

A good liar believes her lie as she tells it.

A mediocre liar believes something, as she talks, and pretends that her words correspond to that something.

A bad liar thinks of the truth as she lies against it.

X-post from /r/OCPoetry

I was 16 and had found a small cyst (marble sized) in my scrotum. My regular Doc. had referred me to a Urologist, my dad came along "for support"

Dr: Hello, I'm Dr. so and so, what brings you in to see me?

Dad: Well it's my son here, apparently he has grown a third testicle.

Dr: I see, if that's case, the truth is you don't need me, you need to get your son an agent!

I'm proud of this one...

My family was visiting friends for a night of Monopoly. We ended a game and were setting up for another when I got up to get a beer for myself and my buddy. We prefer Dos, which doesn't twist off, so I had to use a bottle opener. Enter my 9 year old . . .

"Dad, why don't you use your bare hands to open that bottle?"

He looked up at me with eyes that sought answers and basic truths, not knowing what was about to hit him. I almost felt bad, while trying to hold back a smile, knowing what I was about to say.

"Because I don't have bear hands", followed by the most dad-like laughter possible.

My parents visited me last weekend. Short on ideas, we decided to hit up a widely-respected art museum. They had some new exhibitions, some of which were a little outside our personal tastes and expectations.

We walked into a photography exhibit and saw, along one wall, a sheet of green. This sheet of green was a little higher and taller than the average door, and stretched all the way down that bit of wall plus a few feet onto the floor.

"Oh," I said, "a green screen. That's kind of a neat little thing to have here. Sort of an homage to that style of film, I guess?"

Little did I know. In hindsight, I don't know why I expected anything different.

My father and I approached the plaque beside it. There we learned the truth: This was not a green screen. No. No, this was a specially printed photograph.

A photograph... of a green screen.

There we stood, astonished at the audacity of the thing before us. "My God," I said aloud, "This, right here, this is something else. This is just plain genius. Can you imagine getting money for something like this? Why didn't we come up with this? This is gold!"

To which my dad simply responded, "No, son...

... it's green."