Being in itself Puns

‍🚀🌕 ‍ELON TWEET HYPE, BUT WITH LEGIT LONG TERM DEVS . 🌕 ‍🚀
Strap in and get ready to launch.

This was created by a professional dev team of HOGL And BUFFTOWN (Developers of HOGL and Shield) They are dedicating their spare time to launch this as a meme project that will explode. Get in. We’re going to run this long term for listings on both CMC and Gecko.
Cybertruck Prototype has an ambitious core team of experienced Crypto veterans, all working day and night ( I mean this, we actually forced one to stay up well past his bed time while in the voice channel. ) to make sure we get to the moon fast, and safe.

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INCOMING CATALYSTS:

CMC LISTING: Coming soon.

COINGECKO LISTING: Coming Soon

SNL TONIGHT and the CyberTruckPrototype itself being the star of the show in NYC.

This is NOT a P&D. Liquidity is LOCKED, and ownership RENOUNCED.

CONTRACT RENOUNCED:
bscscan /address/0xf340e33aef552c836b4538ba09bbfccd5f42fa17#readContract

⭐️ Contract:

bscscan /token/0xf340E33aef552C836b4538BA09bBfCcd5f42fa17

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poocoin /tokens/0xf340e33aef552c836b4538ba09bbfccd5f42fa17

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When I walked in the place was great, everything was perfect apart from the kitchen. There were gas mains but no cooker! Work surfaces and water pipes, but no sink; empty plugs and spaces for where the fridge and freezer should sit.

When I bought the house I was told it was fully furnished! Furious, I called up intending to give whomever answered an earful.

I was told that everything should be arriving individually, and the house is being used as an experiment for completely autonomous, self thinking kitchen appliances!

Before I could reply there was a knock on the door. I opened it and a stove strolled in, tilted forward in a bow, slid past me and set itself into its spot! Even attaching itself to the gas mains!

Later that day another knock at the door signalled the arrival of the fridge and freezer.(who had travelled together) They bowed and sat themselves perfectly in place in my new kitchen. I was beaming!

That evening I was explaining to my wife how the appliances had arrived, when came another knock at the door. “This technology is going to change the world, I swear it!” I told her. “Can you answer the door? I’ve been on my feet all day”

“Yeah,” she replied, less enthusiastic than I,“but it’ll get to a point when humans are completely inferior.” She explained “When these machines develop such sentience, what’s stopping them from overthrowing us?” “Treating us as slaves, like we to them now?” She asked, distraught at theses ideas.

Knock knock

“It’s best not to worry about these things,” I said in an attempt to alleviate her fears.

“There are people- professionals developing contingencies for any possible future robot uprising!” “That future you’re frightened about is purely science fiction right now, and the way our collective knowledge and application of technology has advanced, (Even in the past 50 years!) our own scientists and engineers will be able to crush any worries we may have when the time comes.” I explained.

She sighed, agreeing somewhat reluctantly. “Don’t think on it now, have some faith!” I told her.

Knock knock

“Now let that sink in!”

Because they have no Seoul.

Edit: Thanks for the support and for my first award everyone! I can’t take credit for the joke itself as a friend who passed a number of years made it up in high school, but I’m sure he’d be ecstatic to see the number of updoots and laughter it’s brought.

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

There was, for instance, the time he conducted a crew of new S.A.R.H. (Society for the Aesthetic Rearrangement of History -BJ) recruits – all from late twentieth-century Terra – on a training study of Carter’s World, a newly established agricultural colony attempting to support itself by the export of edible nuts. Barely into their second generation, and having yet to show a profit, the colonists were technologically backward. Nevertheless, they showed a surprising ingenuity in the use of their few advantages. It was this resourcefulness that Feghoot was demonstrating to his rookies.

“Look at the perfection with which these streets are graded”, exclaimed one student. “Earth-moving machinery on this scale is strictly high technology stuff. How can they do it?”

“A new alleyway is being constructed, nearby”, said Feghoot. “Let us walk that way while I explain.” As they strolled, he told his students that countless centuries before, the Carter’s World system had been inhabited by a now-vanished race of giants. This very planet had served them for a nursery, and among the many artifacts they had left were thousands of childrens blocks, immense and precision-cut. You simply jack one up onto logs, bring it where you want it, put collapsible jacks underneath, snake out the logs, spread soil more or less evenly beneath, and collapse the jacks.

“I see”, said the student. “It’s not graded road at all; its a simple hammered-earth base.”

“That’s right,” Feghoot went on smoothly. “You just hit the road jack and don’t come back no mo.”

His students registered dismay and anguish.

“Isn’t that right, old-timer?,” Feghoot demanded of an ancient Carterian standing by the mouth of the newly completed alley they had just reached.

“Ahm afraid not, suh”, said the senior citizen, and the students giggled at Feghoots discomfiture. “Oh, we used to do it that way, but it was far too much trouble. It’s the soil heah. You see, the very same soil which produced our famous cashews is so high in clay content that a child could roll out a road of it. Then, we simply use a system of lenses to bake it into hardness. Ahve just completed this alley mahself, and ahm just a retired professor of Sports History, much too old and feeble to handle hydraulic jacks.

“So you see,” he finished, eyes twinkling, “Mah hammered alley is really cashews clay.”

Howls of agony rose from the students, but Feghoot never hesitated. “And he”, he said, turning to his students, “is clearly the gradi

So once upon a time, there was a planet shaped like a cheerio. A small moon made of milk or tied the planet, going through the center of the donut shaped world. On this planet, lived an interesting species. They acted and lived similarly to us humans? But looked just like large Cheerios (with footings hands and feet like miis) Within this society there were levels of Cheerios: original, honey nut, and finally frosted. The originals were the backbone of the economy, doing the herd labor while the honey nuts ran the businesses and the frosted Cheerios (the top of the top) led the world. Our story today focuses on a single Cheerio. Born into an original Cheerio family, this lad learned the hard way how to work. From a young age, he was forced to get a job in the local milk refinery, where his dad worked. He grew up, and soon had a family of his own. His wife, son, and daughter all worked hard, but were happy. One day walking home from school, the kids found a runaway honey nut Cheerio pup, and decided to keep him. It wasn’t much, but it inspired our little Cheerio friend here. One day, he got fed up with taking orders, and demanded a raise. His entire family has worked in this one factory for three generations, and he wanted to move up in the world, not just for him but also his kids. His old boss however, did not have the power to promote this Cheerio, and he was forced to make a life changing decision: he would go to the refinery company and use every penny in the family savings account (under the bed) to try and get a higher position. After waiting on line for over a week, his appoint was finally here. After bickering and bargaining for hours, the refinery company boss saw a spark in this lad’s eye. He agreed to give this Cheerio a promotion to the honored honey nut glaze in exchange for everything this man owned, including the family’s prized honey nut dog. Was it worth it? Well pretty soon he owned his own milk refinery and was able to breed his own honey nut dogs, so yes, yes it was. Owning and operating the refinery went smoothly. Milk was transported from the moon to the planet using space busses, and the milk itself was funneled down to the refineries using large straws. After the milk was ready to drink, it was shipped off to be sold. He was happy working here, but eventually he realized it wasn’t enough. This Cheerio, once a simple original Cheerio wanted to follow the “American dream” and do the best he could. He wanted to become a frosted Ch

EDIT: I am now closing applications and will make a decision in the next day or so. Thank you to everybody who applied - the general enthusiasm and support is wonderful to see.

( as this is a self post, I receive no karma - however I would appreciate it if you upvoted purely for visibility <3 )

Hey everybody,

The /r/dadjokes community is now over 85,000 subscribers strong. That's pretty great. Pretty super great.

Thus far, over the entire existence of this sub, I have been the only mod. Quietly watching, taking your feedback, removing a post here, approving another there - doing my best not to interfere too much. I'm going to be honest, it hasn't been that hard.

You lot are generally a pretty nice bunch, give or take a few of the more vocal lunatics. There isn't usually a lot of work to be done, or issues that need resolving.

That said, I'm not awake all the time. I can't lurk on Reddit all the time. I don't have all-seeing eyes.

So it's about time I gave another pair of eyes moderator status and entrusted those eyes with a duty of care.

Let's get down to the chase; here's what I'm looking for in an additional mod:

• You live in a very different timezone to Syd, AU - GMT+10
• You have a good sense of humour
• You're not in this purely to grow your 'net rep
• You're interested in being fair, and maintaining fairness
• You maintain civility in yourself and your responses at all times
• You have a bit of time every day to go through reports, spam, and post comments
• You understand that your moderatorship will initially be a trial, and can be revoked at any time if you aren't being magical and rad
• Some general CSS/subreddit formatting knowledge wouldn't go astray, but is not required

Here's what I am not looking for:

• Strong, cemented opinions about what constitutes a dad joke and what doesn't - everybody's dad and humour is different
• An overzealous post remover - I am not looking for an enforcer, the title moderator implies moderation
• A(nother) dictator - it is my preference that this subreddit be gently guided, and not forcibly ruled, we let the community find itself and we listen to what they say

If you wish to apply for the title and duty of being a moderator to /r/dadjokes, simply state your case (why you should be selected, what benefits or experience you bring, etc) in a comment reply to this thread. I will then get in touch with the most worthy seeming applicants. Upvotes and downvites will not be taken int

Howdy punsters!

Please remember when posting to /r/puns that the punchline should be in the post itself, not the topic. Puns should be self-explanatory. If you have to explain it, please do so in the comments. We've had a lot of puns lately, especially images, ruined before clicking on them when the whole thing was spoiled in the topic line.

Up to now, we've been assigning "for shame" flair when this happens, but it's become very common lately. As a result, posts with punchlines in the topic will be removed.

Thanks!

Today’s my 43rd birthday and I’m sitting st breakfast with my 8 year old. She is learning her multiplication tables and the concept of division.

Me: What numbers divide evenly into 43? Her: I’m not sure? Me: Can 43 be divided by 2?...Is it even? Her: No. Me: Correct! Since 43 is odd, we can say with confidence that it can’t be divided evenly by any even number! Can 43 be divided by 10?...Does it end in 0? Her: No. Me: Well, did you know that 43 can only be evenly divided by 1 and itself. This makes it a prime number. I guess being 43 means that I’m in my prime!

There were 4 people ahead of me, and the ATM itself is inside a small structure with big glass windows that could pass as a miniature storefront. An older man walked by us and yelled "Must be a sale on money!"

Only I laughed. There was even a dad in line with his daughter who didn't get it.

As a big proponent of the dadjoke I want to argue that a dadjoke is not just a pun. I see lots of material submitted here that might be better suited for /r/punny.

Speaking as a dad, for me a classic dad joke is highly dependent on the context.

I can't whip out old standbys at any moment and call them proper dadjokes. If I'm driving my kid to school I can't just ask him "Hey, do you know why the kids couldn't see the pirate movie? It was rated aaarrrgh!". That's just a bad joke.

OTOH, if my kid says "are" kinda funny (which he has before), and I make a joke about him being the youngest pirate I know (I may or may not have done this before), then that's a dadjoke. A shitty one, but still a dadjoke. The best context ones are where a situation presents itself and the dad takes the opportunity to make the lame joke (as in a post from awhile back where the OP overheard three or four dads make almost the exact same joke at an aquarium).

Straight up puns should go to /r/punny. Context specific jokes which rely on vagaries of the language or the funny situation, should stay here.

Just my two cents worth.

There is a world where everyone is a cheerio and there are 4 main ranks. There is the plain cheerio then the chocolate cheerio then then the rainbow cheerio and then finally King cheerio himself. In this world there is a man called Steve, Steve was a plain cheerio working at a Mc. donalds. He found working there very boring, so he saved up enough money to get a surgery to become a chocolate cheerio. And so he got the surgery and now he was able to be manager at the Mc. Donalds he was working at. However he still didn't feel as if this was enough so he saved up enough money to get another surgery to become a rainbow cheerio. Now that he was a rainbow cheerio he owned Mc. Donalds itself. As a celebration king cheerio hosted a party at his mansion for Steve's new job. During the party Steve got a chance to speak with the King and he asked him how it was to be a the king, but the king replied that it was extremely exhausting to be the king. So Steve decided that he didn't want to be king. After his conversation he felt thirst so headed over to the drinks building. On the first floor he new he could get bear which he wanted, but as he arrived he noticed that the line was too big. So Steve went up to the next floor where there was wine, but again the line was too big. On the third floor there was Coke, but just like the other floors the line was too big. He also new that on the 5th floor there was milk which was his favourite. So he thought that might as well skip the 4th floor to get milk. But he changed his mind has he walked by the 4th floor as he saw the sign that they where serving punch and as he realised there wasn't any punchline.

and the fact that there is a giant artificially planted tree in our back yard that is going to get too big to support itself eventually, or whatever, and we'd have to cut it down. I said we'd have to relocate the birds that have made a home in our tree first, naturally, or wait for them to leave. He said "how are you going to relocate the birds? You can't just send them an email and be like 'be out of here by next Thursday'." There was a pause, and moments later he says "oh you know what to do. " "You send them a tweet."

This one was about two years ago, but it was one of my favorite memories of work due to the reaction it got. There's a little bit of a setup/backstory for this.

I landed a job at the local Sam's Club before it opened, so I, along with the other associates, was to attend a credit training event at a very nice bank in town.

There were probably 30 or 40 in the class and most of us knew each other pretty well because we had spent the past few weeks 'blitzing,' or selling Sam's Club memberships at Walmarts in the area.

Anyway, the credit guy (his name fails me) was giving a powerpoint presentation on the ins and outs of the Sam's credit accounts. At one point, he said that for pre-approved members, a piece of paper called a 'chit' will print out. There were a few chuckles and he smiled and said "yeah, I know," and carried on.

Then I raised my hand.

He called on me, and I began: "So if a church with a business membership is pre-approved, who's responsible for applying? A church accountant or one of the clergy or something?"

"Yes, whoever owns the account itself."

"Would that be considered a 'holy chit?'"

The class erupted in laughter and one associate even left the room because she was laughing so hard. I saw one of the managers in class with us had his head buried in his arms laughing to the point of tears.

Probably my finest moment.

My friend had a really interesting job. One of those jobs you didn't know people could get.

tl;dr just read it, it's worth reading the whole description of the job

Before I moved, my neighbor's job was based in Antarctica. He worked with one of the research centers there, and his job was standing up penguins. I kid you not — when shipments arrived by air, like by helicopter or by airplane or whatever, the penguins would all look up with their tiny heads and look up so high they would fall over backwards. Now, penguins are super awkward in how they waddle everywhere, and so, not wanting to disturb the local environment, the research station had to have someone that could suit up and go out there and stand up penguins.

As soon as every shipment arrived, he would say, "Welp, better go suit up now," get into the whole penguin suit, and waddle out there all incognito and stand the penguins on their feet again. I'm sure they could have done it on their own, eventually, but the idea was to disturb the animals for as little time as possible.

I thought it was the most ridiculous thing when he told me, but he got the job through his dad's researcher colleague. Basically, the deal was they would get people to go down for 3-month periods (I think he ended up doing 6 months) and this was his occupation for that time. Actually, is plane flight there was one of the really cool parts: LA went to Sydney, which then went back across the Pacific to Buenos Aires. Then, on the final leg, he would finally go Buenos Aires to the research station. The planes actually had to be specially fitted for the job, though — Of course, you can't have typical runways in Antarctica because they'd get ice all over them and there'd be all these problems — so the planes had to have mechanics on board each flight who would, mid-flight, switch out the take-off wheels for the landing skis. Just like a sea plane, except it was a snow-plane. Coolest thing ever.

Oh, but the way he described working with the penguins was the best! Most of the time he'd just go out and stand them up, but sometimes one would hurt itself. Like one time one of them fell over backwards and hit its foot the wrong way, so he had to not only pick it up, but give medical help, too. He seriously had to prop up the penguin, take off his glove, and pull on each of the penguins little webbed toes, pull on their legs. Sort of like how I'm pulling your leg right now.

A few years ago, my dad and I were building an addition onto his house. He rented a tool from the hardware store and had to return it, so he asked me to come with him and we would get some breakfast. There was a Burger King nearby, so we decided to stop there to eat.

When we go to the drive-through, we realize the restaurant was closed down, so he drove around the building to get back on the highway. As we were passing the dumpsters, he stopped the car, backed it up, and pointed towards the ground near the dumpster. I looked for a few seconds, trying to see what he was pointing at.

Then... I saw it.

It was a giant, 12+ inch black dildo, standing upright next to the dumpster. It propped itself up on its fake dildo balls, gently swaying in the breeze.

I was astonished. I couldn't even imagine what events in the universe had to line-up so as to end up with that giant dildo meticulously placed next to the dumpster at a closed-down Burger King. I couldn't even begin to fathom why it was there.

My dad, with perfect timing, then shouted "GAY TIMES WILL BE HAD TONIGHT!" and sped out of the parking lot.

We ended up going to Denny's.