Far and Away Puns

...my mind raced with punchlines of the “about this far” variety. I tried a few on for size.

Then I realized he was looking distraught and realized I was potentially stomping on his blooming dad-joke career. So I stopped and said: “I don’t know son, how far?”

He still looked confused, and then I realized that he for real thought a “stud” was a measure of distance and this was a legit question. So I had to transition into google searching images of wall framing and what studs are. What a roller coaster of dad emotions.

He replied, "oh, about 2 feet."

"Ok what else do we need?"

"Liquor"

"Lick her?! I barely know her!"

Rüdoff was one of the best fighters in his village and a terrifying opponent on the battlefield. He would often return from battle, so drenched in his opponent's blood that he became known as "Rüdoff det røde", meaning "the red".

After years of wars, and regular battles, Rüdoff finally grew old, and decided that his fighting days were behind him. He became the best farmer that his village had ever known and people would travel from.far away to ask him about his crops and to predict the weather, as he was quite proficient at it.

One morning he wokeup, and looked out the window, the skys were clear and the sun was shining, but Rüdoff could feel the pressure in his old bones and battle scars

"It will Rain soon", he said to his wife while she made breakfast. She glanced outside and told him he was nuts, it was bright and sunny.

He simply hiked up his pants and reminded her:

Rüdoff The Red knows rain, dear.

Had to visit a mall today. As I was standing on the escalator, someone coughed behind me. I turned around and noticed he was very near. We all know if you need to cough, you must cough far away. So I told him to FAR COUGH. And that’s how the fight started

My dad worked in construction for most of his life, and because he worked with his hands, he sacrificed many watches. But if you don't have a watch, how are you to tell time? My dad has a great sense of humor and is always thinking of new ways to do things to make them more practical or thinking of ways to change things to make them work better for him. So after spending way too much money on a heavy duty watch that inevitably broke on him, he came up with a better solution.

He used the working part of a clock and stuck it on the inside rim of his hat, so if he wanted to know what the time was, he just had to look up. Simple. And the way his hat was, you couldn't see the clock when looking at him unless you were underneath him and looking up.

And then came the funny part. Every time he was asked what time it was, he would look up at the sun, scan the horizon, pretend to do a math equation in his head, and tell them the exact time down to the minute. I've witnessed him doing this a few times but never gave it away. The look of surprise and confusion this gave people was priceless.

My dad had done other funny things like this, but this was by far the funniest.

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 was a brisk Saturday morning when Gerald arrived at “The Café,” a hip coffee shop right down the street. Wearing his large, burly black coat, he stared hesitantly at his watch. Thick glasses adorned his bright blue eyes, his gaze like starlight in a clear night sky. He was waiting, intently twiddling his thumbs. After a buzz of his phone, the message from Dad popped up: “Parking now, be there in 5.”

“Dad,” he whispered under his breath, swiping the message away to once again reveal the image on his lock-screen: a hazy picture of an ultrasound.

Gerald had not spoken to his father for three years. They had had a falling out, over which he did not remember. To him it was a competition of who could wait the longest without calling or sending a text. Who could wait the longest: him without a father, or his father without a son? The idea of friction in the relationship hurt like a thorn; piercing his soul more and more everyday. Until recently, out of the blue, “Dad” popped up on his phone. The rest is history. The rest leads to that Saturday morning, at The Café.

Bang! A car door rang out not too far from where Gerald stood. Gerald saw him. His father wore his tweed jacket like a coat of armor. His strut was now weaker than before they stopped talking; a weakness evident in his cane which supported every right step. His shortly trimmed white beard juxtaposed against his uncut, curly grey hair gave him the image of a wise wizard from a fairytale. He used to be that figure to Gerald, yet instead of a nice ancient being acting like a stone to keep him grounded, Gerald had felt as though his father was a rock pulling him deeper and deeper into a sea of monotony. Holding him back from his true potential. Maybe that was why he left? He still did not know.

“Hello, son,” came the withered voice Gerald had sook for so long, yet now that it had arrived wanted to avoid. “I can’t believe it’s been so long!”

“Yeah,” said Gerald, allowing a smile to grace his face. “Too long!”

Then they hugged, signifying a change in their relationship. Gerald had hoped something could happen to bring them closer together. He did not want to go on wondering what could have been. The regret and sadness weighed him down. Before starting a new family, Gerald wanted to be reacquainted with his own.

After finding their table and sitting down, the two began to discuss life. It was like old friends catching up after a long break. Although it took some time, Gerald began to warm u

Obi wan: Okay Anakin, answer this. Imagine, I am on a planet, very far away from yours. And I was out of range of all forms of communication.

Anakin: Okay...and?

Obi wan: And there was an urgent message, that you had to send me. How would you send it, when no messaging service would get to me?

Anakin: Simple. I would send it with sand. It gets everywhere.

I hadn't put my own picture up on my dating profile, just a picture of my pickup. But that's okay, because she'd just put a picture of her dog. I sent her a message, something almost-clever like "your dog can ride in my pickup any time," and she responded.

We clicked pretty quickly, and started chatting regularly. Every day, sometimes throughout the day. Slowly we learned more about each other. Her dog's name was Daisy. My truck's name was Dodge Ram (I apologized for my lack of creativity). She was a CPA. I was a beekeeper.

And at this, she stumbled. "If we ever meet in real-life, I want you to know that I could never date a beekeeper." But we were still far away from that point, so it was moot.

But time went on, and we gradually became closer to that point. More personal information. What firm she worked for. Where my farm was. Names of relatives. Names of high schools. All the things that just come up in conversation eventually if you talk to someone long enough.

But, oddly, after all this time, neither of us had thought to send any pictures. Until one day I got a message from her: "I never thought I'd say this, but I really do want to meet you in person. I think we have a rare connection, and I don't want to squander it. I want to send you my picture, and I want you to send me yours, but I'm telling you, I can never date a beekeeper."

I couldn't imagine a life without my bees. But I also couldn't imagine a life without her. Tentatively, reluctantly, I clicked on the image attached to her message.

Then I saw her face. Now I'm a bee leaver.

I was driving along a remote highway on vacation and saw a sign that said "6 passing lanes next 35 miles", and seriously wondered why they would bother telling me about them when they were so far away.

Once in a land far, far away there lived a group of people called Trids. The Trids were happy except for the huge ogre that lived on the mountain. The ogre would periodically terrorize the Trids.

The Trids tired of the ogre and sought to reason with him. They thought one of their religious leaders would be a good intermediary. So a group of Trids and their minister went up the mountain and before they could even say one word the ogre kicked them down the mountain. Not being dismayed the Trids thought that maybe the ogre was Catholic, so they sent another delegation, this time led by the local priest. But alas, as they approached the ogre he once again kicked them all down the mountain.

The Trids were upset until they thought that perhaps the ogre was Jewish. Unfortunately, no Trids were Jewish, so they wrote to the people of another land and asked them to send a Rabbi to help them with the ogre. The Rabbi arrived and led a delegation of Trids up the mountain. The ogre saw them coming and kicked all of them, except for the Rabbi, down the mountain. The Rabbi, having been told of the previous expeditions, wondered why he alone had not been kicked down the mountain, so he asked the ogre. The ogre laughed and replied:

"Silly Rabbi, kicks are for Trids!"

"Hey Venus, you see that planet over there?" - Earth "Yeah, what about it?" - Venus "Do you think he likes to watch the sun rise and set like us? He's so far away..." - Earth "Well Maybe he needs to Neptune in with the rest of us." - Venus "Did you just make a planet pun...?" - Earth "Don't Saturn this around on me, I'm hot and flustered all the time" - Venus "I guess you could say your Mercury's rising...snickers" - Jupiter

"GOD DAMNIT" - Earth

I picked up a head cold from my toddler and was worried about it progressing to something worse. Texted my doc, and he said to come in ASAP. That afternoon, he prescribed for me some cough meds, and a nasal steroid to help with the blockage.

I get home, and after putting the still-snotty kiddo to bed, my wife and I retreated to the boudoir to talk and relax. She wanted to know what Doc prescribed. She gave me the perfect setup for a dad joke.

Me: Oh, some pearls and codeine for the cough, and a steroid spray for my nose.

Wife: Where is it?

Me: (pointing at nose) It's right here in the middle of my face.

She laughed. Good thing we were far enough away we didn't wake up the kid.

The funniest and shortest puns for kids, you always remember while teaching children puns, try to choose the short ones because they are easy for them to remember and register.

Puns for Kids

Why are teddy bears never hungry? They are always stuffed!

What do you get when you cross a snake and a pie? A pie-thon!

Where do polar bears vote? The North Poll.

What did the judge say when the skunk walked into the court room? Odor in the court!

Two silkworms had a race. They ended up in a tie.

Why are fish so smart? Because they live in schools.

The streets in the capital of Afghanistan are paved with Kabulstones.

How does a lion greet the other animals in the field? Pleased to eat you.

What do you get when a chicken lays an egg on top of a barn? An egg roll!

No matter how much you push the envelope, it will still be stationery.

Why did the turkey cross the road? To prove he wasn’t chicken!

What musical is about a train conductor? “My Fare, Lady”.

A man drowned in a bowl of muesli. A strong currant pulled him in.

What do you get from a pampered cow? Spoiled milk.

What animals are on legal documents? Seals!

Why did the lion spit out the clown? Because he tasted funny!

Why did the bumble bee leave the house? It heard the school was having a spelling bee.

Being struck by lightning is really a shocking experience!

How do celebrities stay cool? They have many fans!

Why do fish live in salt water? Because pepper makes them sneeze!

Dockyard: A physician’s garden.

What did the angry mother say to the boiling pot of spaghetti? Simmer down!

The lights were too bright at the Chinese restaurant so the manager decided to dim sum.

“What’s purple and 5000 miles long?” “Ooh! I know! The Grape Wall of China!”

Every calendar’s days are numbered.

This duck walks into a bar and orders a beer. “Four bucks,” says the bartender. “Put it on my bill.”

I used to be twins. My mother has a picture of me when I was two.

What sound do porcupines make when they kiss? Ouch!

When does a well-dressed lion look like a weed? When he’s a dandelion (dandy lion).

Two peanuts walk into a bar, and one was a-salted.

A bicycle can’t stand on its own because it is

A coworker and I were talking about how turtles act when they're on their shells and how some people do it them on purpose. Coworker says, "it's sort of like cow tipping. Have you ever tipped a cow?" And I shook my head and said, "I've never even been served by a cow." He then punched me in the face and walked far, far away from me.

Ok I might have embellished that very last part.

So I got home from college yesterday and was greeted at the bus terminal by my dad. Dad: "Since it's your first night home we should go out for dinner. You choose where we go." Me: "I could go for some Chinese if it isn't too far away." Dad: "I think it'll be worth the wok" He then proceeds to laugh hysterically while I shake my head

It was kind of hard to spot, and I slowed down. My wife was impressed that I had spotted it so far away. As we went past it, the horns were visible.

"Good thing I passed the buck!", I said, to audible groans.

I have written this book to sweep away all misunderstandings about the crafty art of punnery and to convince you that the pun is well worth celebrating.... After all, the pun is mightier than the sword, and these days you are much more likely to run into a pun than into a sword. [A pun is a witticism involving the playful use of a word in different senses, or of words which differ in meaning but sound alike.]

Scoffing at puns seems to be a conditioned reflex, and through the centuries a steady barrage of libel and slander has been aimed at the practice of punning. Nearly three hundred years ago John Dennis sneered, “A pun is the lowest form of wit,” a charge that has been butted and rebutted by a mighty line of pundits and punheads.

Henry Erskine, for example, has protested that if a pun is the lowest form of wit, “It is, therefore, the foundation of all wit.” Oscar Levant has added a tag line: “A pun is the lowest form of humor—when you don’t think of it first.” John Crosbie and Bob Davies have responded to Dennis with hot, cross puns: “...If someone complains that punning is the lowest form of humor you can tell them that poetry is verse.”

Samuel Johnson, the eighteenth century self-appointed custodian of the English language, once thundered, “To trifle with the vocabulary which is the vehicle of social intercourse is to tamper with the currency of human intelligence. He who would violate the sanctities of his mother tongue would invade the recesses of the national till without remorse... ”

Joseph Addison pronounced that the seeds of punning are in the minds of all men, and tho’ they may be subdued by reason, reflection, and good sense, they will be very apt to shoot up in the greatest genius, that which is not broken and cultivated by the rules of art.

Far from being invertebrate, the inveterate punster is a brave entertainer. He or she loves to create a three-ring circus of words: words clowning, words teetering on tightropes, words swinging from tent tops, words thrusting their head into the mouths of lions. Punnery can be highly entertaining, but it is always a risky business. The humor can fall on its face, it can lose its balance and plunge into the sawdust, or it can be decapitated by the snapping shut of jaws. While circus performers often receive laughter or applause for their efforts, punsters often draw an obligatory groan for theirs. But the fact that most people groan at, rather than laugh at, puns doesn’t mean that the punnery isn’t fu

And there was a small band walking around and playing music for tables. After they finished playing a song near our table my dad asks them, "Do you know how to play Far Far Away?" they said no, sorry, so my dad says "Oh, well its way over there." and points to the opposite side of the restaurant.

Dad: "What would you call the plate without the ampicillin?"
Me: "The control"
Dad: "And what if it were really far away from the other plates?"
Me: "Um, I don't know"
Dad: "The remote control!"

Just a few weeks ago I was on a camping trip with my friends and we were staying in a friends cabin out on their private property. During the day when there wasn't much to do it was fun to get on a few ATV's we had and drive around. Through no fault of my own, I incidentally couldn't make a turn and crashed through a barb wire fence and sliced open my Neck, during the time I was being prepared for a helicopter ride to a Hospital rather far away I poked up from the stretcher while my friends watched and stated: "With all this Adrenaline and this IV, I guess you could say I'm feeling pretty 'wired'. " It was the proudest moment of my trip.

And my dad was wondering if I was almost finished so we could leave.

Dad: How far away are you?

Me: Oh, I don't know, maybe about ha-

Dad: pokes my leg This far away!

Background: My SO and I were at a flea market in LA the other day where there were food trucks scattered about. The one we chose to eat at specialized in grilled cheese (my favorite food). They had a sign saying they would cater special events... I asked how far of a radius they would travel. Cheese Griller: We actually have a few trucks between here and Texas. Me: None in North Carolina? Cheese Griller: Nope. Me: Well... are you looking for any francheesors?

SO immediately disowned me and walked away.

Context: My mother's maiden name is Shearing and she had been at her parents, helping them out for a few days (they live far away) and had been talking about getting the wifi password, which was difficult.

So she said that she phoned her sister, but that a co-worker of her sister picked up. After being asked if he could help, my mother replied "Well unless you can tell me my dad's wifi password..." He laughingly replied "Sorry, that's not the type of information we share in this office."

Now my dad looks across the table, smiles and says "It's not the type of information they Shearing that office?"

...and he had to use one of those pens on a chain. But he was standing too far away from its anchor and the chain didn't reach the signout form.

He looked up at the librarian and said,

> Do you have a pen with a longer chain?

Had a couple noteworthy ones from my dad in the last few days.

First: I'm carrying a couple of books around, one of which happens to be Atlas Shrugged. My dad sees and asks me, "What are you reading Ayn Walk?" I shoot him a quizzical look and an "Uhh... Wut?" He explains, "Well it's not Ayn Ran(d), it's Ayn Walk!" /facepalm

Then today we happened to pass by a sign for the town of Bruce, WA (whose name my dad shares) which showed the direction and how far away it is. I point it out to my dad saying, "Look, Bruce, 4 miles that way!" Dad replies, "Ah yes that's good but they got it wrong, it should say Bruce 4 miles this way!"

Friend was at a baby shower and she was texting me.

Her: Just ate, getting the will to leave soon.

Me: Surely you mean gestate. I'll see myself out.

Her: See yourself far... far away.

A man answers his door when the door bell rings. It's a snail. The man throws the snail so far away. Two years later there is a knock and the man's door. It was a the snail saying "what the hell was that for?"

Gave me hundreds. Really remember this gem the best. He asks: How far can you walk into the woods? Me: as much as you want? He: No. Halfway. The other half is walking out. Followed by him walking away saying damn this boy is stupid. Better get him a helmet! (He was an engineer and I outscored him and his friends on a company IQ test at 12 so he joked).

We were watching a hockey game, and I had a stack of post-it notes I was messing around with. I plucked one off and stuck it over his eye. Then I said: "Now you can't tell how far away the game is. You don't know if they're playing in Winnipeg or in Columbus."