Brand New Man Puns

My grandpa told me this joke; mind you, it was in the '90s, before all the computer tech became relevant.

Inventor runs to the patent office:

• I have a brand new machine idea!
• What does it do? - asked the official.
• You know how every man is tired of shaving every single morning? My shaving machine would be placed all over the city, for scruffy lads to just put their heads in the device, and in exchange for a quarter, it would shave their face for them! - replied the inventor.
• But Sir, every person's face has a different shape!
• ...At first!

A Christmas Poem
by Dad (1952–2009)

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the shack,
Not a creature was stirring, we was all in the sack;

Our mugs were placed on the mantle with cheer,
In hope that Saint Nick would bring us a beer;

And me I was tucked up all snug in my bed,
But strains of sweet music still danced through my head;

So I sprang from my bed with a crash and a clatter,
And off down the hall with bare feet did I patter;

There on the chair sat my musical pipe,
So I sat down to play without fanfare or hype;

Come Mozart, come Hayden, Stravinski and Strauss,
And write me some music to bring down the house;

When down from the chimney appeared with a crash,
A strange little man in the smoke and the ash;

He wiggled and jumped and got up like a shot,
Came over and said, "Man those cinders are hot!";

His stomach it shook like a bowl full of jelly,
For a moment I thought it was dear old aunt Nelly;

His nose like a cherry, his ears like two jugs,
I was worried that this guy just might be on drugs;

His language was foul, his jokes they were crass,
So I opened the door and threw him out on his ass;

But then as I turned, boy was I ever surprised;
I saw what he'd bought me, or so I surmised;

For there in the corner right under the tree,
Was some brand new sheet music and a case of O.V.;

I turned to say thank-you but found he had gone,
He was not in the garden and not on the lawn;

And just when I thought that he couldn't get far,
I realized the old goat had stolen the car;

Off in the distance he said with a wheeze,
"I hated to do it but you left me the keys!";

I smiled and laughed for this much I could savour,
For I'd just sold the car to my idiot neighbour;

And once more he called as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and don't drive when you're tight!"

Thank you for everything, Dad. We love and miss you.

I used to know a guy who absolutely loved hollandaise sauce. He would buy the spiciest brand he could find and would put it on just about everything. Well it turned out that because he used the spicy sauce so much, it started to wear down a hole on the roof of his mouth. He went to a doctor and asked what he could do about it. The doctor looks at the damage and determines that the man will need a metal plate placed at the roof of his mouth. The man is relieved but can't help asking the doctor if he will still be able to enjoy his hollandaise sauce. The doctor reassures the man that his new plate will be made of chrome. The man was curious, so he asked if chrome was the best choice. The doctor responded with "Oh don't worry, there's no plate like chrome for the hollandaise."

A man is riding his horse through the desert, and, well, he starts to get thirsty. He sees a small town off in the distance, so he sets off in that direction to get some water for his horse and some whiskey for hisself.

Well, as he gets into that little town he starts to notice something peculiar. Not a soul is out. Sun's setting, but still plenty of light. Water in the horse troughs tells him it ain't a ghost town, but folks ain't comin' out for some reason.

Now, as soon as he turns onto the town's main street, he sees a soberin' sight; the sheriff, on a ladder, hammering the last nail into a brand new gallows. He sidles his horse on up to the sheriff and says, "Pardon me sheriff. I don't mean to pry, but pray tell, who're them gallows fer?"

The sheriff looks around, surprised to see someone out. He steps down, takes off his hat and scratches the back of his head thoughtfully, before replying, "Well, I reckon you must be a stranger in these parts. I reckon then that you ain't never heard of Brown Paper Bart. Anyway, we're lynchin' him come sunrise."

"Brown Paper Bart? I reckon not, sheriff. That's a mighty peculiar name, pray tell, whaddaya call him Brown Paper Bart fer?"

"Wayill, I reckon we call him Brown Paper Bart on account 'a the fact that everything he wears is made a' brown paper. His hat's made a' brown paper, his boots is made a' brown paper. His chaps is made a' brown paper, his neckerchief's made a brown paper. Heck dang shoot, even his lunch bag is made a' brown paper!"

The man looks at the sheriff a moment, perplexed, before replying, "Well, sheriff, I reckon that's a mighty peculiar thing for a man to do, but that don't explain these brand new gallows. Pray tell, what're you lynchin' Brown Paper Bart fer?"

[Insert a dad-length pause here.]

"...Rustlin'."

When I worked for a design agency, I had two adamant higher-ups. There was a brand identity project for a new company, and I was in charge of typography, but those two disagreed with my choice of font.

The first one was this stony-looking Peruvian-American man named Esteban Ferrero, but since that's Spanish for Steven Smith, and our company had a rule that everyone has to call each other using nicknames instead of last names, everyone, including himself, just called him Steve. The second one was a Dutch woman with a sharp glare named Evelien van der Berg. She was famous for giving designers a hard time convincing her that their design choices work better than hers. In accordance with the company rules, we called her Eve.

Anyway, I showed Steve my first draft, and he wasn't convinced that I chose LinoLetter as the main font, and told me that I should use a sans-serif font. But I stood by my position that serifs add legibility to printed and digital material, that it fits the company's identity as an organic store, and that it is hard to stand out with a sans-serif. It took a lot of debate, but in the end, Steve was convinced that LinoLetter was acceptable.

A few days later, I showed Eve a more elaborated version, as for the sizes and styles of the font, and the pairing of LinoLetter with Century as the headline font. She insisted that I should have used a sans-serif font for the headline. I expressed my view that LinoLetter is a font with composed and legible shape, and Century, while it is also legible, has flair at larger sizes. She kept disagreeing with me, saying I should use something bolder and more contrasting, like Tungsten. It felt like hours had passed before the conversation went anywhere, so I had to give up and look for a sans-serif font that goes with LinoLetter.

So it goes to show that the one who gave me a hard time was adamant Eve, not adamant Steve.

There was a little boy who absolutely loved tractors, so for his 3rd birthday, his father bought him a little toy one. The boy thought this was the best toy he had ever gotten, and ignored all his other gifts to focus on the tractor, pushing it around the lounge whenever he got the chance, making tractor noises etc.

As the boy grows a little bit older, he comes to his 10th birthday, when his dad says "Alright son, you're a little older now, so here you go" before giving him a push-along ride-on tractor for their backyard. The boy thinks this is even better than his now quite old toy tractor, and is taking days off school and everything just to ride around the house and neighbourhood on his push-along tractor.

He gets a little older again, and lo and behold, it's now his 18th birthday. His dad comes up to him during the party and says "Ok son, you're a man now, so here you go" before unveiling a fully functional tractor for his son. "Wow, thanks Dad, this is amazing!" says the son, before taking it for a quick test drive. The tractor becomes his main transport, as he goes to the grocery store and just generally cruises in his brand new tractor.

He decides to take the tractor on it's first proper outing, and goes into the middle of nowhere, with no cell service or house to be seen for miles, and the tractor of course breaks down. It takes him a while to get in touch with AAA and his Dad to come and help him out, so he decides after that experience that maybe it would be a better idea to invest in a car than a tractor after all.

Lo and behold, a few years later, the now adult son is driving down the same road in his new car, although there's now a house there that is engulfed in flames! A lady comes out, screaming "Help! Help! Call 911, my baby is trapped inside!" The man simply stops and says "It's ok, mam, I've got this." He takes in a massive gulp of air, and the entire fire just disappears! The lady says "Wow, that's amazing! How did you do that?!" before the man responds with "Well, you see mam, I'm an ex tractor fan."

Had a perfect opportunity to tell a dad joke at work today.

There was a "garage sale" to clear out old stock of company branded clothing. I walked in, intending to buy a shirt or jacket. When I saw the table, which was almost empty I said,

"I understand you're selling garages. I need a new one, and would like to purchase your finest garage."

The person manning the table replied back,

"Oh, I'm sorry. But we're all sold out."

I threw up my arms and said "WELL that's false advertising! You shouldn't advertise garages for sale if you don't have any!"

and I walked out of the room and went back to work.

The winner of this contest would receive a brand new Porsche, so a man got down to it and came up with the 10 best puns he could. He submitted the first, the second, and so on till he had entered them all in the contest. Alas none of his puns won the competition, no pun in ten did.

Machine pumps out 3 brand new one dollar bills

Brother: "Man, those are crisp!"

Me: sniffs bills "...Minty"