On Approval Puns

It's about Thyme.

At least that’s the impression that I get.

Then, I saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow.

It was addressed, 'Dad'.

With the worst premonition, I opened the envelope and read the letter, with trembling hands:

"Dear, Dad.

It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you.

I had to elope with my new girlfriend, because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you.

I've been finding real passion with Stacy.

She is so nice, but I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercing's, tattoos, her tight motorcycle clothes and because she is so much older than I am.

But it's not only the passion, Dad.

She's pregnant.

Stacy said that we will be very happy.

She owns a trailer in the woods, and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter.

We share a dream of having many more children.

Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone.

We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people in the commune for all the cocaine and ecstasy we want.

In the meantime, we'll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so that Stacy can get better.

She sure deserves it!

Don't worry Dad, I'm 15, and I know how to take care of myself.

Someday, I'm sure we'll be back to visit so you can get to know your many grandchildren.

Love, your son, Joshua.

P.S. Dad, none of the above is true.

I'm over at Jason's house.

I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the school report that's on the kitchen table.

Call when it is safe for me to come home!"

EDIT: I am now closing applications and will make a decision in the next day or so. Thank you to everybody who applied - the general enthusiasm and support is wonderful to see.

( as this is a self post, I receive no karma - however I would appreciate it if you upvoted purely for visibility <3 )

Hey everybody,

The /r/dadjokes community is now over 85,000 subscribers strong. That's pretty great. Pretty super great.

Thus far, over the entire existence of this sub, I have been the only mod. Quietly watching, taking your feedback, removing a post here, approving another there - doing my best not to interfere too much. I'm going to be honest, it hasn't been that hard.

You lot are generally a pretty nice bunch, give or take a few of the more vocal lunatics. There isn't usually a lot of work to be done, or issues that need resolving.

That said, I'm not awake all the time. I can't lurk on Reddit all the time. I don't have all-seeing eyes.

So it's about time I gave another pair of eyes moderator status and entrusted those eyes with a duty of care.

Let's get down to the chase; here's what I'm looking for in an additional mod:

• You live in a very different timezone to Syd, AU - GMT+10
• You have a good sense of humour
• You're not in this purely to grow your 'net rep
• You're interested in being fair, and maintaining fairness
• You maintain civility in yourself and your responses at all times
• You have a bit of time every day to go through reports, spam, and post comments
• You understand that your moderatorship will initially be a trial, and can be revoked at any time if you aren't being magical and rad
• Some general CSS/subreddit formatting knowledge wouldn't go astray, but is not required

Here's what I am not looking for:

• Strong, cemented opinions about what constitutes a dad joke and what doesn't - everybody's dad and humour is different
• An overzealous post remover - I am not looking for an enforcer, the title moderator implies moderation
• A(nother) dictator - it is my preference that this subreddit be gently guided, and not forcibly ruled, we let the community find itself and we listen to what they say

If you wish to apply for the title and duty of being a moderator to /r/dadjokes, simply state your case (why you should be selected, what benefits or experience you bring, etc) in a comment reply to this thread. I will then get in touch with the most worthy seeming applicants. Upvotes and downvites will not be taken int

The sun shone into my office through the lowered blinds all clumsy like, fumbling through the gaps between the venetian slats like a drunk fishing for loose change in his pockets; trying to see if he has money enough for one last drink or maybe the bus ride home.

The dame looked me up and down, clearly disappointed by what sat in front of her. I didn’t blame her. Three days of salt and pepper stubble clung to my my crude boxer’s jaw and the bags under my eyes were so big half the bums downtown could sleep in there and not even know anyone else was with 'em. That was ok. This broad wasn’t hiring me for my looks and I wasn’t looking to her for approval. We both knew what brought her in here, it was the name on the door.

Max Dad P.I. - that’s me. Private Investigator’s sure not the profession my mother would have picked out for me, but it keeps me in whisky and it keeps a roof over my head and that’ll do for now. The dame parted those cherry red lips of hers as she took another pull on that just-lit cigarette and nervously stubbed it out in the ashtray. My eyebrows knit together slightly. I hate seeing things go to waste.

“So as I was saying, Mr Dad,” she began.

“Please, call me Max”

“Alright, Max… well, as I was saying, my bag is missing. Stolen, I think. I urgently need it back. Shall I describe it to you?”

“No that’s alright miss. You got nothing to worry about,” I replied, sliding a bottle out of the desk drawer and pouring a big slug of scotch into to my morning coffee, “I’m sure it’ll be a brief case.”

We are trying to convert a standard restroom in a state-owned building on our campus to be gender neutral.

Boss: "Unfortunately, state law says we need to get approval from the bathroom folks in the state capital."

Me: "That could take some time...I hear they are all backed up."

The kids were asleep and I just finished tuning up my wife's bike. "Take it for a spin" I said.

She hops on and says "I haven't ridden my bike since last summer!"

"You'll be fine!" I said. "It's like riding a bike."

I turn to my neighbour who was within ear-shot and he nods with a smirk of approval.

Mr. Sterling Frogsen was desperate. After a few months of success, his bakery was beginning to flounder and running in the red. He was a proud man who was proud of starting his small business without asking for any help. But now times were tough and he had to face the fact that without a loan his bakery was doomed.

So he went to local bank but was disheartened to see that the loan officer was the notorious Patricia Wacomb, the hard-nosed banker who only agreed to sure bets and rarely took risks.

"Please, ma'am, I am in sore need of this loan! My bakery is only going through a temporary setback!" Normally such pleas fell on deaf ears, but today Patricia was feeling generous. Something about Mr. Frogsen moved her and she believed his plight.

"Mr. Frogsen, I would approve this loan, but this bank cannot afford to take any risks."

"Is there anything you can do, Ms. Wacomb? I am desperate!"

"Well, do you have any collateral?"

"Only this family heirloom," Sterling responded while handing Patricia his prized family treasure. Patricia was at a loss, however, for she had never seen anything like that before.

"Let me ask my manager," she responded as she showed her director the prized heirloom. His eyes opened wide in amazement as he told her,

"It's a knick-knack, Patty Wack, now give the Frog a loan!"

One day, Melon met a girl named Cantaloupe. She was very sweet to him. They fell in love quickly, but his father didn’t approve because she was a peasant. You see, the king wanted Melon to marry the princess of Veggieland, Broccoli. The king banned Melon and Cantaloupe from seeing each other ever again.

However, the young lovers were determined to see each other. Every Sunday, Cantaloupe snuck into Melon’s room. They would stay up till midnight with each other. This went on for many years.

Meanwhile, the king was arranging Melon’s marriage with Broccoli. He was prepared to pay every expense to make the wedding excellent for PR. However, the night before Melon was to be married, the king found out about his meeting with Cantaloupe! He made Melon swear a Royal Oath—an unbreakable promise—to marry Broccoli the next day and never see Cantaloupe again after that.

That night, when Cantaloupe visited, Melon admitted what had happened. She begged him to run off with her and get married, but he refused.

“I love you, but I swore a Royal Oath. I’m sorry, dear, but I Cantaloupe.”

HI I’m Tim the turtle, yes a real turtle. And I would like to tell you the story of my best friend. I once had a friend by the name of Sam. Sam of course was a clam. A real live honest to goodness clam. He was my best buddy, but unfortunately he smoked and drank and ran around with loose women (and a few men). I was more of the goodie two shoes type. I never drank, never smoked, I didn’t even swear. But for some reason Sam and I were the best of friends. I guess you can say we were the epitome of opposites attracting. One day as we were hanging out walking along the beach Sam, after his fifth cigarette in a row, had a heart attack and died. I was heart broken. My best friend died right there in front of me and he never repented his evil ways. I was sure he would spend eternity in damnation. Sigh. Being the goodie two shoes type I was still extremely healthy well into my old age. I missed my friend terribly for many years. On his birthday I would host a party and invite his old stripper girlfriends and poker buddies around to relive stories. It was always a fun evening, but in the end left me more lonely than before. Eventually, my broken heart couldn’t stand it anymore and I too died. I was pleased to find that there was a heaven. Being an almost saint I was whisked directly past the line to the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter. A big grin erupted on his face and he came right around his desk to give me a great big hug. “Tim”, he said, “You have been such a good person back on earth that God has asked me to grant you any wish you would like before even entering heaven”. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I thought for a minute, I guess God expected me to ask for more time on earth, but I knew what I really wanted to do was to visit with my old friend Sam. So I asked. Poor St. Peter didn’t know what to say. You know Sam is in Hell right? Well I knew that was a strong possibility so I wasn’t surprised. Peter excused himself for a while and went to check with the big guy himself. He was gone quite some time, but eventually he returned. Peter said my request was approved, but under a few conditions. First, I would have to carry a golden harp as a passport back into heaven. This harp could only be carried by a good soul so I couldn’t be replaced by a look alike demon. Second, I would have to return by midnight. God didn’t want me to face too much temptation. I agreed to these conditions and took the highway down to hell. (Nope n

This one was about two years ago, but it was one of my favorite memories of work due to the reaction it got. There's a little bit of a setup/backstory for this.

I landed a job at the local Sam's Club before it opened, so I, along with the other associates, was to attend a credit training event at a very nice bank in town.

There were probably 30 or 40 in the class and most of us knew each other pretty well because we had spent the past few weeks 'blitzing,' or selling Sam's Club memberships at Walmarts in the area.

Anyway, the credit guy (his name fails me) was giving a powerpoint presentation on the ins and outs of the Sam's credit accounts. At one point, he said that for pre-approved members, a piece of paper called a 'chit' will print out. There were a few chuckles and he smiled and said "yeah, I know," and carried on.

Then I raised my hand.

He called on me, and I began: "So if a church with a business membership is pre-approved, who's responsible for applying? A church accountant or one of the clergy or something?"

"Yes, whoever owns the account itself."

"Would that be considered a 'holy chit?'"

The class erupted in laughter and one associate even left the room because she was laughing so hard. I saw one of the managers in class with us had his head buried in his arms laughing to the point of tears.

Probably my finest moment.

Courtney Love once asked Jon Bon Jovi to name her new band. Bon Jovi jokingly suggested 'Hole'.

Love though this was great - provocative and rude - so she went with it. Her ex, Corey Hart, of 'Sunglasses At Night' fame, did not approve. He sought to confront Bon Jovi on the night of Hole's first gig and, a little drunk, tried to climb the fence of Bon Jovi's LA estate.

Bon Jovi, thinking Hart an intruder, winged him with a gun belonging to Bono and The Edge's tour manager, who was dining there that night. The ensuing fracas was in all the papers, overshadowing Hole's debut, and angering Kurt Cobain, who was interested in Hole's lead singer.

Cobain sent Jon Bon Jovi a note, demanding he apologise, and Bon Jovi replied ...

"Shot Corey Hart, and U2 blamed. You give Love a band name."

3yr - What is that?
Dad - Mail
3yr - No, those are letters
Dad - (Look to my wife in approval) Yes those are letters.
3yr - He starts reading each letter on the envelope. L-I-M-I-T-E-D O-F-F-E-R

Staying at my Uncle's place this holiday weekend and he tells us, "I'm gonna go jump in the shower."

"You shouldn't jump in the shower, it's wet and slippery in there."

My uncle, who's a dad himself, look at me with approval. his girlfriend, on the other hand, rolled her eyes.

i couldnt pick up some noodles with chopsticks so my dad told me to use a fork. Clearly set himself up for a really bad joke, he proceeds to yell in my face "FORK YOU" then looked around for approval on the joke.

Unbelievable

Slow start:

So I was combining two hand sanitizer bottles while waiting on some computer function to complete, one was a scented and dyed blue while the other was regular clear handbleach. In the end I have a bottle of half clear half blue.

So I make wide panic eyes, hold up the bottle for my coworker to see and tell him "Oh shit, %coworker℅ I really blew it this time"

3/4 techs approve this dadjoke

Coffee used to be made in a coffee pot. Now, everyone uses a drip coffee maker, but they still call the container a pot. It doesn't get put on a fire to make the coffee perk, so it isn't a coffee pot. It is a carafe.

You have a carafe of coffee. You pour the coffee out of the carafe into a cup. It is now decarafinated coffee.

I am a dad, and I approve this message!

My local bar association, of course, has thirty or so listservs. On one, someone posted about a Constitutional Law course being offered through Coursera, and how the state bar is approving the course for CLE credits.

One of the responses to this email was "Coursera sera. . . whatever will be, will be."

I actually groaned this time. I don't usually groan at bad jokes.