Doing It Right Puns

I went to see Santa last night. He had a prostitute carrying a Dove bar and Sure deodorant. One whore, soap and spray.

Which American President was least guilty?

Lincoln. He was in a cent.

"Well, at least you could try."

“Why?” she asked.

“Because that’s what makes it beautiful.”

Oh, the eye roll on this kid.

It was a relief

...it took me hours to mop that carpet.

Me: You’re doing it right now.

Your Brain: I probably won’t do that.

Me: You have to read this dad joke backwards for it to make sense.

Having a bit of a discipline issue with my daughter... she'll bring a pile of sand inside and make what she calls her "land". It's sand arranged in a flattish layer, with toy animals and her lego house (Friends^TM , why she no like diggers and helicopters and whatever, why she gotta be so girly??). She doesn't like getting her hand dirty while she's doing it, wears a glove to keep clean, so you'd think she could understand the concept that I don't like the floor getting dirty... but no, she doesn't give a shit.

Had her third birthday party recently, and gave her a Skye (Paw Patrol) plushy, she loves it. Because it's her newest and most favourite toy in the whole world, and because it was for her birthday, we can't confiscate it no matter what.

Very next day, she makes her land again, Skye's there at the side - she's too big to sit in the middle, it would dominate all the plastic dinosaurs and lego Friends people (not the usual mini-figs, they're a bit more anatomically correct, anyway that's not important right now). So I'm all angry and "why you keep doing this", take the glove off her and sweep up the sand. Put her in the time out cage for a bit. Well, we call it the cage, it's just a cupboard under the stairs which is a bit shorter than her so she has to sit there if she doesn't want to bump her head. Throw her in there for one minute per year of age, is the standard procedure.

Anyway, as we close the door she starts singing...

Take my glove

Take my land

Take me where I cannot stand

I don't care

I'm still three

You can't take this Skye from me

Sleepy.

Professor: Um, you know it’s May, right?

Student: Of course, so sorry! “May I do something to raise my grade?”

Tuskaloosa

Use a TherDADeter

My wife and I were doing a bit of roleplay in the bedroom. I had just handcuffed her to the bedhead when we heard one of the kids turning the door handle. I quickly threw the covers over the both of us and in walked my 7 year old son. He noticed the handcuffs, went really quiet and had this confused look on his face. After 15 seconds or so he asked my wife why she was handcuffed to the bed. She blushed and had to come up with a lie on the spot. She stammered out that daddy was just practicing with the handcuffs for his new job as a policeman and that my son should just go back into the lounge room and watch some TV.

A few weeks later I was asked to careers day at my son's school. My son stood up with me in front of the class and proudly announced his daddy was a policeman and that I lock up baddies. I didn't want to embarass him so I just played along. It turns out I was the one who was about to be embarassed. One of the kids asked if my son had ever seen me at work. My son said no but that he had seen me practicing using handcuffs on his mom. It went right over the kids heads but the teacher was very amused and couldn't stop giggling. I guess my wife and I would have been the hot topic in the staff room that day.

I'm quite the music history buff- always have been. My first inkling as a college student was to explore turning this into a career. So I found a music museum, wrote an impassioned essay, and somehow landed the 12-week internship.

When I got there, I met the curator, a woman named Rhonda. Like me, she had grown up enjoying music and always wanting to know more. Thanks to grants and donors' generosity, she had helped continue the museum's legacy of showcasing what might otherwise be lost to history.

The tradition of the museum had always been to let the interns work in the orchestral wing. My assignment in particular was the string section.

Now I didn't know a whole lot about the string family, but I saw some really fine specimens and decided we could perhaps tell a broader story about the progression of the instruments. And so I began studying.

After about a week of studying, I went to Rhonda and asked if we could do something different here. She was very receptive to the idea and introduced me to her assistant, Dr. Will. His PhD was in history, natch, but he still relished having everyone call him Doctor. It was funny.

Dr. Will helped me learn so much about how the family of instruments developed over time, their overall cultural footprint, etc.

Did you know a fiddle and a violin are the same thing? Did you know the viola family dates back to the 16th C.? Vivaldi wrote 25 cello concertos!

I dazzled visitors with tales of the Stradivarius, Amati and Guarneri families. I noted the increase in neck length over time. I reassured them that despite the name catgut, no cat intestines were used in the creation of these instruments—but it sure might be sheep or goat.

Sadly, 12 weeks goes by quickly when you're having fun, and I got enthusiastic letters of recommendation from Rhonda and Dr. Will, and I do miss them. Hello, you two.

I figured I could waltz (sorry) right in to more museum jobs later, but boy, was I mistaken.

I kept interviewing for the job, but after about the 10th cold shoulder, I had to find out what I was doing wrong. I had done such a good job, after all, right??????

So I fucking called the museum

got the guy who interviewed me on the line—and he wasn't thrilled to even talk to me. But I asked him, sir, why didn't I even get a call back? Weren't my qualifications good?

He said, yes, BUT.......

"...we simply can't hire someone who has exhibited a history of violins."

Kid: Hey dad, look at that! (Points with his finger to something off in the distance.)

Me: (Looking in direction he's pointing) What? Where? I don't see anything.

Kid: (Still pointing) Right there, look, you see it?

Me: (Still looking, getting annoyed that I don't see it) WHAT? What is it??

Kid: (Holding up the same finger) It's my finger!

I have been doing this to him recently and it always gets him. I love that he's able to totally get me with it now.

Edit: MY oldest, not Mt oldest. Not sure what the oldest mountain is, but it probably isn't as funny as my oldest kid is becoming.

to check the time.

It's not well known that among the species of plants taken aboard Noah's Ark was a very odd berry. This berry had a special property where if you ate too few at once they would be sour, but if you ate too many at once they would be bitter. Even stranger was that the right number of berries to eat at once for perfect sweetness was different for each person.

Shem would never take enough berries and would complain every time "Ugh! These berries are so sour! Why did we bring these plants?" Noah would reply "I've told you over and over, you need to eat a couple more in a mouthful to make them sweet."

Ham would always take too many berries and would complain every time "Ick! These berries are so bitter! I'd like to toss the plants overboard." Noah would reply "I've told you over and over, you need to eat fewer in a mouthful to make them sweet."

Japeth would grab a random amount and whenever they were bitter or sour he'd complain "Why do these berries never taste the same? We should let the animals eat the plants so we don't have to eat the silly berries." Noah would reply "I've told you over and over, you should remember how many berries taste the best."

After a couple of weeks of this, Noah announced "I'm taking charge of portioning the berries. I've made notes of how many of them taste the best for me, my wife, all of you my sons, and your wives. At meals I'll give each of you the correct amount, and NO MORE COMPLAINTS!"

Another week passed and Japeth wanted some berries to take the edge off his hunger, but rather than wander all over the whole ark looking for his father he asked Emzara "Where's dad? I'd like some berries before lunch."

Emzara pointed to the storeroom and said "I thought you were tired of the berries? But there's Noah, counting for taste."

There was a little town in Mexico, right across the border from Texas. They got a taste for Mayonnaise from the Cowboys crossing the border to eat. Soon they created a festival for their love of Mayonnaise. They’d have every type of mayonnaise you could think of. Folks loved it. The 10th anniversary of the festival was coming up and they decided they wanted to do something special. They heard of a place in England that made the worlds very best. They placed their order and was told it would be shipped overseas to them by boat. Because they had placed such a large order, the only ship capable of carrying it was the Titanic. The folks were waiting excitedly until the morning that the Titanic had hit a iceberg. When the news came that they wouldn’t get their shipment and to honor those lives lost, they decided to rename their festival. It became known as “Sinko De Mayo.”

There was once a boy. He was the son of the richest man in the universe. Mark Zuckerberg, Bill Gates, he dwarfed them all. He was a multi-trillionaire. Now, it was this boy's birthday. His father asked him,

"My son. I am the richest man in the universe. I could buy you anything you want for your birthday. A store full of lego, all the video games in the world, anything. What would you like?"

His son replied.

"Oh father. It would make me the happiest boy in the world if you could get me one pink ping pong ball."

His father was rather confused by this request. Out of all the things he could've chosen, his son chose a ping pong ball. Nonetheless, he agreed and gave him a pink ping pong ball. His son was overjoyed and spoke to him.

"My father, you have made me the happiest boy in the world. May I go up to my room and play with my pink ping pong ball?"

"Okay son, go ahead."

The boy then went up to his room and played with his pink ping pong ball. When his father went in the next morning to check on him, the boy was sleeping in his bed and the pink ping pong ball was nowhere to be found.

On the boy's next birthday, his father asked him again.

"My son. I am the richest man in the universe. I could buy you anything you want for your birthday. What would you like?"

His son replied.

"Oh father. It would make me the happiest boy in the world if you could get me one box full of pink ping pong balls."

His father was again, confused by this. Still, he bought a cardboard box and filled it with ping pong balls. He gave it to his son, who said.

"My father, you have made me the happiest boy in the world. May I go up to my room and play with my pink ping pong balls?"

The father nodded, and the son went up to his room to play. The next morning when his father went to check, the boy was sleeping peacefully and there were no pink ping pong balls in sight. Just the empty cardboard box in the middle of the room.

On the boy's next birthday, his father asked him again.

"My son. I am the richest man in the universe. I could buy you anything you want for your birthday. What would you like?"

"Oh father. It would make me the happiest boy in the world if you could get me one truck full of ping pong balls."

Now, by this point, the father was extremely confused. Why did the boy want so many pink ping pong balls and where were they going? He asked.

"My son. You are the most precious thing in the world to me and I can certainly get you this, but may I ask, why do you want

When I was 15 there was a Home Depot bucket next to the front door for a while. One night I was watching tv with my mom. She was laying on the couch and I was laying on the floor.

My dad got home from work and as he was taking off his boots he asked “Hey, where did that Home Depot bucket come from?” And without skipping a beat I said “I don’t know. Home Depot?” My mom laughed so hard and my dad was pissed. I got grounded for a week for “being a smart ass”.

I’m now 26 and to this day when my dad and I go to Home Depot I always chuckle and point to the buckets and ask “Hey dad, where do you think those come from.”

On one of these trips I picked one up and was examining it when my dad asked me what I was looking for. I turned the bucket upside down and said “Well would you look at that dad. They’re from Lowe’s.” I thought he was gonna knock my ass out right there.

TLDR: My dad: “Where did that Home Depot bucket come from?” Me: “I don’t know. Home Depot?”

my wife and I saw a clown and she goes "I hate fucking clowns" and I said "then don't fuck em"

"Well," he replied, "I'll do it if you pay me £400."

So I gave him £400, and he said, "Right, I'll start asking around."

We recently discovered mice in our pantry. Everyone’s advice? Get a cat. Apparently they are stone cold killers.

We made some calls and learned from our vet that they had two cats that need to be rehomed. I agreed to take them sight unseen. I think it’s a boy and girl but I don’t actually know. We pick them up next week.

We want to instill the right spirit into our mercenaries by naming them after famous murderers, but want to lighten the mood with puns.

So far we have come up with Jeffrey Paw-er but we are certain our Reddit friends can do better. We need male and female options. I understand one cat is black and the other is a brown mix.

We need help coming up with names, anyone up for the challenge??

A giant list of puns

What do you call a fake noodle? An Impasta.

I would avoid the sushi if I was you. It’s a little fishy.

Want to hear a joke about paper? Nevermind it’s tearable.

Why did the cookie cry? Because his father was a wafer so long!

I used to work in a shoe recycling shop. It was sole destroying.

What do you call a belt with a watch on it? A waist of time.

How do you organize an outer space party? You planet.

I went to a seafood disco last week... and pulled a mussel.

Do you know where you can get chicken broth in bulk? The stock market.

I cut my finger chopping cheese, but I think that I may have greater problems.

My cat was just sick on the carpet, I don’t think it’s feline well.

Why did the octopus beat the shark in a fight? Because it was well armed.

How much does a hipster weigh? An instagram.

What did daddy spider say to baby spider? You spend too much time on the web.

Atheism is a non-prophet organisation.

There’s a new type of broom out, it’s sweeping the nation.

What cheese can never be yours? Nacho cheese.

What did the Buffalo say to his little boy when he dropped him off at school? Bison.

Have you ever heard of a music group called Cellophane? They mostly wrap.

Why does Superman gets invited to dinners? Because he is a Supperhero.

How was Rome split in two? With a pair of Ceasars.

The shovel was a ground breaking invention.

A scarecrow says, "This job isn't for everyone, but hay, it's in my jeans."

A Buddhist walks up to a hot dog stand and says, "Make me one with everything."

Did you hear about the guy who lost the left side of his body? He's alright now.

What do you call a girl with one leg that's shorter than the other? Ilene.

I did a theatrical performance on puns. It was a play on words.

What do you do with a dead chemist? You barium.

I bet the person who created the door knocker won a Nobel prize.

Towels can’t tell jokes. They have a dry sense of humor.

Two birds are sitting on a perch and one says "Do you smell fish?"

Do you know sign language? You should learn it, it’s pretty handy.

What do you call a beautiful pumpkin? GOURDgeous.

Why did one banana spy on the other? Because she was appealing.

What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef.

What do you call a cow with two legs? Lean beef.

What do you call a cow with all of its legs? High steaks.

A cross eyed teacher couldn’t control his pupils.

After the accident, the juggler didn’t have the balls to do it.

I used to be afraid of hu

The son said "I think we need to start growing something other than just wheat" and started naming fruits and vegetables.

"I think you're right, kiddo" said the man.

He went over to one of the haybales and started grabbing fistfuls of it. He spread it out and then started covering it with dirt.

"Dad, what are you doing?" asked the son, confused.

"I'm making straw-buries".

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

Me: You've heard of Murphy's Law, right?

Mum: Yeah.

Me: What is it?

Mum: It's to do with bad luck.

Me: Cool, have you heard of Cole's Law?

Mum: No. What is it?

Me: It's thinly sliced cabbage

Teacher: “So I want everyone to understand that a dead body isn’t disgusting, and we need to be able to handle it and always be observant at all times when dealing with one”

The teacher has everyone turn their body over

Teacher: “Now I want you all to stick your finger in it’s ass and hold it in there for a moment”

all of the students do as instructed, hesitant at first

Teacher: “Okay, now go ahead and pull your finger out and then put a finger in your mouth like I do”

The students getting a little disgusted by that request REALLY hesitated at first, but eventually they all did as he asked

As the teacher has all of his students with their finger in their mouth, he tells the class, “now see it’s not disgusting if you did it right...if you put your index finger in the ass, and put your middle finger in your mouth like I did, you have just passed my class”.

With minimal observance, and a dead silent room...not one student passed the pop quiz

Back in the before times, when sit-down restaurants existed, I used to order boneless cheese sticks and would just throw the word "boneless" in front of any appetizer with 100% corniness. The purpose of this isn't to make a good joke. It's not a good joke. The purpose is to make my dining companions catch some cringe splash damage and want to crawl into a hole and die out of embarrassment for my being horribly corny.

But there is a real, deeper purpose that I've discovered entirely by accident. People, especially young people, are so self-conscious and worried about saying or doing something embarrassing that it taints a lot of social gatherings. They go to a restaurant and are afraid to speak up even when their order is blatantly wrong. They'll tip well even when the food took an hour to arrive and the server has disappeared into the corn stalks behind a baseball field. It takes 2 hours of hanging out together before some friends finally stop nitpicking themselves, uncomfortable in their own bodies and brains, feeling perpetually judged, and begin to relax. These are the kinds of people who go to sleep every night replaying cringey moments from high school. Their last thought of the day is when the Burger King girl said, "Enjoy your meal!" and they said, "Thanks, you too."

It takes 2 hours and/or a lot of booze before they're comfortable enough to take conversational risks and truly reveal themselves. But if I come right out of the gate with a really dumb joke, then we can cut to the chase. There's less danger because someone in the group already shot themselves in the foot, right off the bat. They pulled a pin on the cringe grenade and then jumped on it.

You cringe at my dumb joke and then we're over the hump. Someone has already done something pretty stupid, so go ahead and order the hubcap of nachos and a massive chocolate shake because nobody is going to judge you poorly while they're all judging me.

In terms of price negotiations (haggling), there is a psychological concept called "anchoring". You throw out the first number and all subsequent numbers are compared to that number. This is the same idea. We've already set the humor standard pretty low at "boneless cheese sticks", so you can say the dumbest shit you want and, as long as it's not worse than my cheesy joke, it won't matter.

This is why, when you were a teenager and your dad took you and some friends out, your dad made corny jokes. He knew they were corny jokes. You and your friends un

There was a race horse named Pat, who was one of the greatest race horses to ever live. He set records that were near impossible to beat. After a long time of racing, he retired to an old stable with some old friends. They were very happy that he retired there to stay with him, and congratulated him on all of his records that he set.

Once Pat retired, he started keeping track of all the up and coming horses that were winning a lot. There was a race horse named Charlie that was doing really great and winning all his races. Pat saw this horse and watched him race. Charlie started to break all of Pat’s records and Pat was a little upset with this.

After a while, Charlie decided to retire after an extremely successful career in racing. By chance, Charlie decided to retire at the same stable that Pat retired in. When Charlie entered the stable, everyone went up to him to congratulate him on his records and wins. Pat went up to Charlie and said, “Hey Charlie congratulations on all of your wins! You broke a lot of my records and I was very impressed.” Charlie responds, “go away old man, I’m better than you ever were.” Pat was blown away by his response. He galloped away from Charlie with defeat.

After a while of thinking, Pat decides to challenge Charlie to a race. Charlie agreed to it and wanted to race right away. He said “We will race to the tree over there and turn around and come back and whoever gets there first will be the winner.” Pat was still healthy but he needed a few weeks to get his legs back into shape for the race. Charlie gives Pat 2 weeks to get ready.

After 2 weeks pass, they are ready to race. “Hey Pat, before we race I want to warn you that I win my races by passing them by the end. So don’t get all cocky and think you are going to win.” Charlie says. Pat thanks him for the warning and they start getting set to race.

The gun sounds and they are off to race. Pat starts out in front, and nears the finish. Out of know where, Charlie zooms ahead of Pat and wins the race.

Pat was very disappointed in his loss, but congratulated Charlie anyways. A dog comes up to them and says, “Wow, that was a fantastic race! Neither of you should be upset with that. You both were so great!” Charlie looks to Pat and Pat looks to Charlie. They are astonished. Charlie says, “Say that again! Say it again!” The dog says a little confused, “Well I just said that you both were so great out there.” Pat says, “Charlie! It’s a talking dog!”

He scored a home run every single at bat, and always the exact same way. Way over right field, too high for anyone to reach, and it always landed in exactly the 17th row of the stands, give or take a couple feet.

He earned the nickname “the machine” for how consistently he hit the exact same spot every time. Right field, 17th row, every single time. He did this for 20 years before he retired. Tickets to the 2-3 seats that the ball always landed on sold for over $2k a pop by the time he retired because you were guaranteed at least a couple home run balls.

And the day he retired a reporter asked him “How does it feel to be retiring as the greatest hitter of all time?”

Hugh just looked at the reporter puzzled. “What do you mean?” He said.

The reporter clarified “literally over 5,000 times you went to the plate and hit a home run to right field, 17th row of the stands!”

Hugh looked dejected and disappointed “yeah, my greatest failure...”

“What do you mean?” Said the reporter incredulously.

Hugh let’s out a long sigh, and looked down at the ground quietly for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’ve been aiming left this whole time”

And I remember he used to be stationed in exotic places all over the world. Once he came back home with a very exotic looking bird. I asked him what kind of a bird it was and he told me it’s a rare almost extinct species called a Foux (pronounced Foo). This foux was the apple of his eye and he would take care of the bird as if it was his own child. Sometime during this period the Foux began developing a real bad case of constipation and my father was really worried about it. He tried all kinds of medicines to make the Foux pass it’s bowels, but nothing was working. One day, during this period, I woke up to a huge argument taking place between my parents. My mom was accusing him of cheating on her during one of his tours, she had found some pictures of him and another woman and he was denying it vehemently. I realized then that my father had been quite the philanderer and this wasn’t the first time he had been caught. My mom was trying to get him to just admit to his indiscretion.

“Why don’t you just admit it Harry”, she said;

but he stuck to his denial,

“You think I could ever do something like this Sarah”, he said.

Right then amidst all this ruckus, the Foux began to take a dump, in the middle of the living room.

My mom looked at the bird, then looked back at my dad and with a sense of resignation she just said “Well if the Foux shits...”

Sometimes he would simply rename the brand. Sometimes he would name it a different product entirely. In a few horrific instances he repackaged it as food products. Eventually he was found, arrested, and brought to court. And though he admitted to doing all those things, he insisted that he had done nothing illegal and that moreover, his actions were protected by the law and the Constitution. His reasoning?

"I have the right to rename sealant!!!"

I was golfing in the Australian Open for the first time. I noticed all the pros were putting various condiments on their clubs. Salt on a putter, brown sauce on a driver, ketchup on a 9-iron.

I my caddy why they were doing it, and he explained that an Australian thing for good luck.

Now, by that time I had already shot straight into a sand trap so I said to him: "Too bad I didn't know about it. I really could use some of that luck right about now."

He just smiled...

...and gave me a vegemite sand-wedge.

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

"Well, at least you could try."

Me: You’re doing it right now.

Your Brain: I probably won’t do that.

Me: You have to read this dad joke backwards for it to make sense.

"Well, at least you could try."

A giant list of puns

What do you call a fake noodle? An Impasta.

I would avoid the sushi if I was you. It’s a little fishy.

Want to hear a joke about paper? Nevermind it’s tearable.

Why did the cookie cry? Because his father was a wafer so long!

I used to work in a shoe recycling shop. It was sole destroying.

What do you call a belt with a watch on it? A waist of time.

How do you organize an outer space party? You planet.

I went to a seafood disco last week... and pulled a mussel.

Do you know where you can get chicken broth in bulk? The stock market.

I cut my finger chopping cheese, but I think that I may have greater problems.

My cat was just sick on the carpet, I don’t think it’s feline well.

Why did the octopus beat the shark in a fight? Because it was well armed.

How much does a hipster weigh? An instagram.

What did daddy spider say to baby spider? You spend too much time on the web.

Atheism is a non-prophet organisation.

There’s a new type of broom out, it’s sweeping the nation.

What cheese can never be yours? Nacho cheese.

What did the Buffalo say to his little boy when he dropped him off at school? Bison.

Have you ever heard of a music group called Cellophane? They mostly wrap.

Why does Superman gets invited to dinners? Because he is a Supperhero.

How was Rome split in two? With a pair of Ceasars.

The shovel was a ground breaking invention.

A scarecrow says, "This job isn't for everyone, but hay, it's in my jeans."

A Buddhist walks up to a hot dog stand and says, "Make me one with everything."

Did you hear about the guy who lost the left side of his body? He's alright now.

What do you call a girl with one leg that's shorter than the other? Ilene.

I did a theatrical performance on puns. It was a play on words.

What do you do with a dead chemist? You barium.

I bet the person who created the door knocker won a Nobel prize.

Towels can’t tell jokes. They have a dry sense of humor.

Two birds are sitting on a perch and one says "Do you smell fish?"

Do you know sign language? You should learn it, it’s pretty handy.

What do you call a beautiful pumpkin? GOURDgeous.

Why did one banana spy on the other? Because she was appealing.

What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef.

What do you call a cow with two legs? Lean beef.

What do you call a cow with all of its legs? High steaks.

A cross eyed teacher couldn’t control his pupils.

After the accident, the juggler didn’t have the balls to do it.

I used to be afraid of hu

I don't have any original material at the moment, but the obligations are still there. So I present the following:

How do you get a baby satellite to sleep? You rocket!

Why was Peter Pan always flying? Because he Neverlands.

It takes guts to be an organ donor.

Eggs don't tell jokes because they always crack up.

What's a tree's favorite drink? Root beer!

What do you call a cow with 2 legs? Lean beef

What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef

What do you call a dog with no legs? It doesn't matter, he still won't come

Where do you find a dog with no legs? Right where you left him.