A list of puns related to "Old Forester"
He said, "Look at my hair. It used to be so magnificent, but it's completely gone now. My hair can't be saved. But look outside at the forest. It's such a lovely forest with so many trees, but sooner or later they'll all be cut down and this forest will look as bald as my hair."
"What I want you to do..." the man continued. "Is, every time a tree is cut down or dies, plant a new one in my memory. Tell your descendants to do the same. It shall be our family's duty to keep this forest strong."
So they did.
Each time the forest lost a tree, the children replanted one, and so did their children, and their children after them.
And for centuries, the forest remained as lush and pretty as it once was, all because of one man and his re-seeding heirline.
After a few days of doing this, he realizes he is simply not fit for this type of job. On his final day of trying to chop down trees, he notices an old scrawny man chopping down trees as if he was a woodpecker, the amount of hits he made grew more and more each swing. The first swing was one hit, the next, ten hits, the next one, a hundred hits, and the next one after that, a thousand. He kept swinging until the tree he was swinging at was chopped down. Amazed, the young man walks over to the old man and asks, "Sir, what is your secret, how do you chop them down so quickly?"
The old man turns and says, "It's all about the rhythm." Puzzled by the old man's answer, the young man returned home pondering what he said.
The next morning, he was motivated to keep trying to be a lumberjack. "If an old scrawny man can do it, so can I!" he thought.
So he went back to the forest, and tried to use his advice. Trying to time each swing, he realizes this simply doesn't work. Later in the day, he sees the old man again, comes up to him, and asks, "I tried to time my swings, but it does no more than just chopping normally. How do you do it?"
"You can't just make up any old rhythm and follow it, you have to find a very specific one," he says, "you have to find the Logger-rhythm."
In a village just outside Sherwood Forest lived Old Robinhood, he had lived a very exciting life with his band of merry men, and his cause of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor and had a fantastic time doing it. He even had a sign outside his door that said, Robinhood, Bandit - but somehow the law never seemed to have noticed and he had lived in plain sight, doing good deeds, giving away money anonymously and living for the cause.
But now age had started to catch up and not being as nimble as he once was close escapes had started to get uncomfortably close. So he decided to retire and hand over the leadership of his band to his son.
So, Robin called his son over to him and said, ‘Son, I want you to take over from me as leader of the merry men. Steal and pillage all you want, but never forget the cause - we only take from the rich to give to the poor’.
‘Father, I will do as you say’ said Robin’s son whose name was Robinson, ‘but tell me one thing, why do you stay anonymous when giving money away?
Why not let people know of your good deeds - you have a sign outside that says bandit and you’ve never been caught, why not add the cause to the sign and say ‘Robinhood, Bandit, steals from the rich to give to the poor’?
‘Fool, screamed Robin, if you put the cause over the sign then you will get caught’
My brother and I are watching Star Wars VI. The Rebel Alliance is talking about destroying the shields on the planet Endor. I turn to my brother and ask him, "Isn't Endor the planet with the forests and tall trees?". He grins, turns to me, and says, "No; that's Outdoor". I'm astounded a 12 year old could be so clever.
Once there was this farmer and he had this dream of having a duck. Then one day he saw this duck and started to chase it. He chased it all throughout the farmland. He chased it through a forest. He chased it past a river. All his life, he spent chasing this duck but he never caught it. He died all alone, old and hungry and without the duck. See, the duck represents your dreams, and the other opportunities, they represent other opportunities. So the moral of the story? Don't go chasing water fowls.
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":
Dad: "You know, we're actually descendants of one of the oldest native tribes in this part of the country, right?"
Me: "Really?"
Dad: "Yeah, The Fagawee tribe. I remember when I was little, your grandpa took me on a spiritual pilgrimage through the forest. He drank a lot and smoked some native herbs. The herbs didn't seem to be working, though, because as it got darker, we seemed to be walking in circles. It was cold in the woods and we seemed to keep coming across the same old log. Finally, in the middle of my dad's spiritual trance, he fell to his knees in a clearing, raised his hands high, and proclaimed "We're the Fawagwee!"
Translation: ("Where the fuck are we?")
Note: Quality Very Varying (I see what I did there) and sometimes subject to specialist knowledge. So I apologise in advance. Shame me with your better puns.
While I was languishing in the Language Centre, doing some semantics antics and considering how all the other linguistics students despised and derided me, I was accosted by a stout man with large glasses who made me a preposition. It was that I should collect terrible puns, to do with linguistics, in order to ingratiate myself yet further with the other linguistics students (including even the phonetics fanatics).
I'm struggling to think of a pun to do with grammaticality that both makes sense and "Is grandma tickly?" correct. I'm also stuck on 'morphologician'. (I'm not actually sure that's a particularly logical word for the subject, though I guess that's more for, er, more for a logician to worry about.)
The problem I have with writing about phonological variation is that one is constantly forced to choose between being fun or logical - very Asian!I always get in trouble with electricians, they think I'm calling them a 'dialectician' whereas in fact I'm just saying "Die, electrician."
I like pscycholinguistics – the only department of linguistics where it’s acceptable to wear a cycle helmet. My Australian accent is terrible but I like to think my Sath Efrican one is predicate. My favourite accent is Received Pronunciation, because it is the accent chiefly used by invisible Japanese people who are ordered online. When the first recipient of an invisible Japanese person got the parcel, they wrote a complaint saying "Received but can't see Asian" and the name stuck.
Why did the speakers whose native languages weren't English, but whose only shared language was English, but they weren't very good at it and kept on having to stop to think about it, stop talking to one another? They came to an agreement. (Get it? If not, write your answer on a pastecard and paste it to the below address.)
What did the 'a' say to the 'the'? "You definitely are ticklish, 'the'!"
Why was the small man eaten by the large bear, which was proportionately bigger than him? It had, er, relative claws.
I think the reason there are so many speakers of Russian is because they all partake in an activity called "copulae shun". (Ok, ok, I know, that was Pushkin it.)
I know a man called Hillary who can, might, should, did, must, shall and will ride an ox. We call him "Ox Hillary".
I always think the verb 'to be' in the senten
... keep reading on reddit ➡After a few days of doing this, he realizes he is simply not fit for this type of job. On his final day of trying to chop down trees, he notices an old scrawny man chopping down trees as if he was a woodpecker, the amount of hits he made grew more and more each swing. The first swing was one hit, the next, ten hits, the next one, a hundred hits, and the next one after that, a thousand. He kept swinging until the tree he was swinging at was chopped down. Amazed, the young man walks over to the old man and asks, "Sir, what is your secret, how do you chop them down so quickly?"
The old man turns and says, "It's all about the rhythm." Puzzled by the old man's answer, the young man returned home pondering what he said.
The next morning, he was motivated to keep trying to be a lumberjack. "If an old scrawny man can do it, so can I!" he thought.
So he went back to the forest, and tried to use his advice. Trying to time each swing, he realizes this simply doesn't work. Later in the day, he sees the old man again, comes up to him, and asks, "I tried to time my swings, but it does no more than just chopping normally. How do you do it?"
"You can't just make up any old rhythm and follow it, you have to find a very specific one," he says, "you have to find the Logger-rhythm."
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