Deep time Puns

I'm calling it The Gluggenheim

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

This isn't where they be long.

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

It's not a beautiful poem, but it's very deep.

I would have to change my name

Anyone who makes a pun about iron should pay a periodic Fe, I would stop now but that'd be Nobel of me, HeHeHe. Be sure to take a deep breath before you say "NO". At this point you might thinking we should get Iridium of this guy in rl too. I'll eventually run out of chemical puns, right? Na, which might be your mood coincidentally. This guy must be a fake as Silicone, he got this from somewhere to which I reply, Si, senor! I Cu calling for the coppers, but any "Bro" of mine wouldn't. Don't worry, the best ones Argon by now. Au reading this! This winding list is surely golden by now, right?

As we close this out, allow me to echo your thoughts one last time, Fr y'all.

"F"In"Al"Y"

A little boy named Tom was approaching his 3rd birthday, and absolutely adored the show "Tractor Tom", partially because of his name being spoken, and partially because he loved tractors.

As the day drew nearer, his parents decided to buy him a toy tractor as a gift. The rest of his toys were gone with the wind at this point, as Tom spent all his waking hours playing with this one tractor toy.

Fast forward a few years, and Tom's now approaching his 10th birthday, with his love for tractors intact and intensified. His parents discuss what to get for him, and decide that a ride-on tractor to replace his bike is the best gift they can give him.

Tom absolutely loves the gift, and spends all of his time out of school riding around the neighbourhood while his bike collects dust in the garage.

We come forward a few more years, as Tom approaches his 18th birthday, with an only intensified adoration of tractors. His father pulls him aside on the morning of his birthday, saying "Now son, I know that we've promised you a car, but we know what you really want."

He leads him outside, to a brand new tractor with a bow on it, saying that this is his welcome to adulthood.

Tom is beyond excited, and spends the next few months going everywhere in his tractor - grocery trips, bars, classes, friends' houses.....

Again, a few years later, Tom is driving down a back country road, in the middle of nowhere, with his tractor, in the middle of a storm. The tractor breaks down, and with no air conditioning or any form of modern comforts, Tom is in a miserable mood until someone finally comes past for him to flag down for help. After this, Tom realises that although tractors are fun, maybe they're not the best transport method out there.

Tom ages through a few more years, and finds himself driving down another road in the middle of nowhere in his car, and sees a house on fire just off the road. Being a good samaritan, he pulls over and heads up the driveway to a woman running out of the house screaming "Please, help, help! My baby is trapped in there! Go and call 911, please!"

Tom turns around, then, before leaving, has a brainwave.

He turns back and walks towards the flames, saying "Don't worry, ma'am, I've got this."

He takes a deep breath in, and the fire disappears into nothingness. As you'd expect, the woman is in awe, and asks, "Oh my God, how did you do that?!"

Tom simply responds, "Well you see ma'am, I'm an extractor fan."

It's because if they fell forwards, they'd still be in the boat.

One evening Jake stole Joke’s bag and hid it just at the edge of a forest nearby. Next morning he told him what he had done and to be careful not to go far into the forest since it’s riddled with bears once you go into the deep forest part and you are sure to get eaten.

Since Joke didn’t return for a long period of time, Jake went looking for him. However, he couldn’t find his friend. Jake, feeling remorse, called the police and told them what had happened.

Unfortunately, the police were no help and the case started to gain traction with the media. Reporters from all the nearby villages wanted to be the one to crack the case and find Joke.

Jake slowly spiraled into despair, not knowing what happened, thinking he killed his friend and all he wanted was some answers, buying all the local newspapers every day hoping to read something new and gain some answers.

Day after day the event slowly slipped out of his mind as time went by with no new information whatsoever. Until one day, Jake decided to put this whole thing behind him and found a therapist to help him move on.

The therapy was a huge success, he completed all but one meetings and he had just one more to go. He arrived on time as always, but the therapist’s office was locked this time. Jake checked his mobile phone and he saw a message from his therapist that he’s gonna be a few minutes late and that he should sit down in the waiting room, relax, and wait for him.

Jake, as any reasonable person, sat down in the waiting room and started waiting. It was at this moment that his phone battery ran out and he became bored, very bored, so he picked up a random newspaper from the table in front of him and then he saw it, the headline he was waiting for for so long:

Joke gone too far.

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

The warden saw that deep down, Andy was a good person and made arrangements for Andy to learn a trade while doing his time.

After three years, Andy was recognized as one of the best carpenters in the local area.

Often he would be given a weekend pass to do odd jobs for the citizens of the community and he always reported back to prison before Sunday night was over.

The warden was thinking of remodeling his kitchen and in fact had done much of the work himself.

But he lacked the skills to build a set of kitchen cupboards and a large counter top, which he had promised his wife.

So he called Andy into his office and asked him to complete the job for him.

But, alas, Andy refused.

He told the warden, "Gosh, I'd really like to help you but counter fitting is what got me into prison in the first place."

“You know,” said Arthur, “it’s at times like this, when I’m trapped in a Vogon airlock with a man from Betelgeuse, and about to die of asphyxiation in deep space that I really wish I’d listened to what my mother told me when I was young.” “Why, what did she tell you?” “I don’t know, I didn’t listen.”

Back when I was maybe 14, I was sitting out on the front porch of my grandmother's house with "the guys," AKA my cousin, his dad/my uncle, and my dad. It was wickedly hot and there were a few annoying flies buzzing around. We were just sitting quietly, taking in the afternoon. Out of nowhere, my uncle, a big guy with a deep, gravelly voice says, "Time's fun when you're having flies." The rest of us were in stitches, it was so clever and dumb at the same time.

when there was a terrible accident. The fire in his forge had gone out of control and set fire to the shop. The blacksmith nearly lost his life. He was bedridden for many months and relied on the help of his children and grandchildren to feed him, bathe him, and take care of all of his needs. Eventually he was able to get back on his feet, though his outlook on life had turned quite grim. He was now able to take care of himself, but he had lost much of his strength and dexterity from the injuries he sustained and he was unable to practice his trade. He fell into a deep depression and he spent most of his days sitting at home in front of the fireplace gazing into the flames, longing for the days when his strong hands could grasp a hammer and strike a hot piece of iron, slowly forging it into a beautiful piece of work.

One evening when the old man was sitting in front of the fire, he heard a knock at the door. It was his granddaughter, whom he hadn't seen in many months. She had overheard her father talking to her mother about how her grandfather was slowly slipping away into depression and hopelessness and she wanted to help. To the old man's surprise, she had brought him a puppy. "I thought that since you're always here all by yourself that you might want someone you keep you company," the granddaughter said. The old man's eyes welled up with tears and the little puppy instantly jumped into his arms and began licking the tears from his face. The old man and his granddaughter spent the next several hours sitting on the floor of his house watching the puppy chase around a rubber ball, bouncing, jumping, panting, and licking. In that short time, the old man had made complete turnaround from being sad, lonely, and hopeless, to smiling from ear to ear, full of joy with his new-found companion. As the hours grew late and the puppy grew tired, the granddaughter said "Well Opa, I'm glad you like your puppy, but it's late and I should be heading home. By the way, what are you going to call him?" "Life," said the old man, "because he has given me a new meaning and joy to mine." The granddaughter kissed her grandfather on the cheek, wished him goodnight, and she left.

Many years passed and all the while, the old man and his little dog were inseparable. Everywhere the old man went, Life was always with him whether it was the post office, the grocery store, and even when the old man went to the barber shop, the little dog would sit patiently until the last hair on

My daughter (13) hates listening to my Dad jokes all the time (down deep she really loves them)

So tonight at dinner I said, wow I'm so stuffed and she says, oh probably from all the stuffing eh!? She then says, oh god I'm turning into you! ☺️

A long, long time ago in Egypt the Israelites were held as slaves. One day the evil Pharaoh passed a decree that no Israelite could cut the grass outside their house.

The grass grew and grew, covering the houses and making it quite an ordeal for the Israelites to go to work in the morning, which put a bit of a strain on the old pyramid building that was all the rage at the time. But Pharaoh didn't care and the edict still stood. No Israelite could cut the grass outside their home.

Eventually the elders had had enough and called upon Moses, who had a bit of a rapport with Pharaoh, being brought up together and all that jazz.

"Moses, you must convince Pharaoh to see sense and let us remove the grass from outside our homes!" they implored.

Moses nodded, picked up his staff and sought an audience with Pharaoh.

In the royal chambers, Moses approached Pharaoh. "Yes, Moses? How can I help?" asked Pharaoh.

Moses stood tall, stared deep into Pharaoh's eyes, raised his staff aloft, cleared his throat and with a booming voice said, "Pharaoh! Let my people mow!"

My dad told me this spooky Halloween story when I was young, I remembered it today and thought I would share it:

On one spooky Halloween night, a man decided to travel to the graveyard all by himself, armed with only a flashlight, and a thirst for adventure. He scoured the graveyard in search of ghosts, but after a long time searching, was disappointed that he couldn’t find one.

Just when he was beginning to get disheartened, he heard this awful sound from behind! The sound was deep, scratchy, and bellowing. It was the distinct sound of a coffin! The man was terrified. Naturally, he took off running! But No matter how far or fast he ran, he couldn’t escape the coffin. Everywhere he went, the coffin roared, deep, scratchy, and bellowing.

Just when he could run no more, he found himself trapped. The coffin closed in on him, getting louder and louder as it approached.

So what did he do?

He did what any man would do in this situation! He pulled out his Vick’s 44d cough syrup and stopped that awful coffin!

My dad likes to make this pun off-hand all the time: "Well. Now that's a deep subject!"

I was wondering, if River Song were to visit Deep Space 9, where would she spend all her leisure time?

Then the answer became obvious. Holo-Suite-E.

Years ago I used to use a LexisNexis database of companies that would give corporate information like name, address, and general business description. While most of them were pretty bland, there were a bunch of them with some really cheesy puns, and over a few years I built quite a collection.

Today I share with you "NEXIS IS RIDICULOUS.txt":

• Bucyrus International caters to those who mine their own business.
• It would be logical for Mr. Spock to boldly go to Vulcan International for rubber products. He might even live long and prosper -- in comfortable shoes.
• What do manufacturer Electro-Motive Diesel (EMD) and 1970s band Grand Funk Railroad have in common? They both want you to do the locomotion!
• Peter Piper can pick more than a peck of peppers or pickles from B&G Foods.
• Toray Plastics America could sing "foam, foam on the range, where the polyester and polypropylene materials are made" all day.
• Break out the Tums, because things are awfully gassy over at Air Liquide America.
• If a tree falls in a Weyerhaeuser forest, someone is there to hear it -- and he has a chainsaw.
• Although not a pushover, you can walk all over Wilsonart International.
• Here's a HEICO haiku: HEICO companies/ Providing for jet engines/ In flight or on land.
• American Italian Pasta Company (AIPC) uses its noodle in many different ways.
• The golf industry doesn't mind when Aldila gives it the shaft.
• Rat-a-tat-tat and a ringa-ding-ding. What's that? Answer: The sounds emanating from Pearl, one of the world's foremost makers of drums and other percussion and musical instruments.
• Saint-Gobain Ceramics & Plastics deals powders and crystal, but there's no need to call the cops.
• Pamida Stores Operating Company offers more small-town values than a bandwagon of Republicans on the campaign trail.
• Like a tight end, offshore drilling contractor Transocean dreams of going deep but doesn't mind eating a little mud.
• Rittal me this, Batman!
• Utility Trailer Manufacturing is spreading its own brand of reefer madness.
• Who is the Fresh Prince of Sullair?
• If GrafTech International were a bard, it could wax poetic in an ode to the electrode.
• When it comes to adhesives and vibration control products, LORD knows.
• You might say that Deere & Company enjoys its customers going to seed.
• Pfizer pfabricates pfarmaceuticals pfor quite a pfew inpfirmities.
• Stripping is OK at Spraylat.
• Don't think Seton is

We were taking a tour of a national park, where you drive around in your car and look at all the fauna from a distance. (Think safari, but in the US instead of the Savanna)

My grandfather, who is very stoic and usually pretty quiet, asked us if we wanted to hear his deer call. We of course said yes, so he takes his time rolling up a magazine to use as a megaphone.

He rolls his window down, puts the makeshift megaphone to his mouth...takes a deep breath...and shouts "HERE DEER, HERE DEER!!"

This one requires a little backstory:

There's a cardgame called WHOT! It's just uno but with different shapes. Me and my dad used to play it a lot.

Unfortunately it's led to the same terrible joke being made repeatedly over the last 10 years or so. It goes something like this:

Dad: "You'll never guess what film's on tv tonight."

Me: "What?"

Dad: "No, I don't think they made a movie out of that. It's a card game."

It's literally been going on for over a decade now and it pains me deep inside my soul every time he says it.

My dad's favorite joke of all time (there are many variations, and of course, even more extended versions):

These three guys went to South America to explore the rain forest. The guide was leading them through explaining the different plants and animals. After awhile they started to hear this really loud sound.

whoosh

whoosh

whoosh

The men, kind of scared, asked the guide what the noise was.

"What the hell is that noise?"

"Oh, that's just the Foo bird."

"The Foo bird?"

"Yes, it's a giant bird, and the locals believe that if it poops on you, wiping it off will cause instant death."

"That's silly."

"Well, that's what the locals say."

The noise gets louder and closer.

WHOOSH

WHOOSH

WHOOSH

The men look up in the sky and see a glimpse of the Foo bird.

"It's huge!"

Suddenly...

SPLAT

All four of the men are covered with bird shit. The guide pulls a cloth out of his pocket and wipes the shit off of his face. He drops dead.

The first of the three men says, "that's got to be a coincidence."

He wipes the shit off, and drops dead.

The second guy nervously says, "it can't be true"

He wipes it off and drops dead.

The third guy doesn't wipe it off. He was found a few days later, and went home, refusing to be cleaned.

A few years pass, his life has been destroyed due to being covered in shit. His wife left him, his friends won't come near him, he can't find a job... One day, he's in the bathroom shaving around the shit.

"It's been years, most of it has flaked off, it's probably fine to wipe it off now."

He hesitates, but eventually grabs a towel, wets it down, and takes a deep breath.

He wipes the shit off, looks up into the mirror smiling, then drops dead.

The moral of the story is:

If the Foo shits, wear it.

For some time many of us have wondered, just who is Jack Schitt?

We find ourselves at a loss when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt!'

Well, thanks to my personal genealogy research efforts, you can now respond in an intellectual way.

Jack Schitt is the only son of Awe Schitt.

Awe Schitt was married to O. Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, and owner of Needeep N. Schitt, Inc. They had one son, Jack.

In turn, Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt. The deeply religious couple produced six children: Holie Schitt, Giva Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Bull Schitt, and the twins Deep Schitt and Dip Schitt.

Against her parents' objections, Deep Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school dropout.

After being married 15 years, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced. Noe Schitt later married Ted Sherlock, and because her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name. She was then known as Noe Schitt-Sherlock.

Meanwhile, Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt, and they produced a son with a rather nervous disposition who was nick-named Chicken Schitt.

Two of the other six children, Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt, were inseparable throughout childhood and subsequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony.

The wedding announcement in the newspaper announced the Schitt-Happens nuptials.

The Schitt-Happens children were Dawg, Byrd, and Horse.

Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world.

He recently returned from Italy with his new Italian bride, Pisa Schitt.

Now when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt,' you can correct them.

Sincerely,

Crock O. Schitt

Me: seems appropriate for you and yours: http://www.reddit.com/r/dadjokes/comments/32gzy7/what_was_the_secret_to_the_miners_success/ Her: That’s a dynamite answer! Me: I noticed the explosion of laughter over there Her: Rock on! Me: gold-standard of jokes here Her: so precious Me: digging deep on that one Her: pickin away one at a time Me: we have definitely hit the pay dirt of mining puns Her: definite Honey Hole here! Me: not sure that joke bee-longs here Her: you are a total BUZZZZZZ kill Me: comb on it wasn’t that bad

We were watching an interview on tv and,

Me: "He sounds like he's Russian, do you think he is?"

Dad: "He certainly doesn't sound like he's taking his time, so maybe."

This was followed by deep, bellowing dad laughter. Bravo dad, bravo.

So a long while back, my brother picked out a Father's Day card for my dad that sang various silly praises to the person receiving it. One of those was a deep voice going, "All HAIL the great and powerful DADDISH ONE!" Naturally, our dad loved it.

In fact, he loved it so much that any time there's a disagreement between any of us and he turns out to be the one who's right, there will be a reminder that he is the Great and Powerful Daddish One. Over eight years down the road. Every single time. My mom and I still think it's hilarious.

It drives my brother up the wall.

So my girlfriend and I are lying in bed this morning having just woken up. We both took deep breaths and exhaled at the same time and she says, "Oh look, our breathing is in sync". I reply, "I'd prefer if our breath was The Backstreet Boys".

She promptly knocked me out of bed.

Because he couldn't see that well.