A small medium at large.

He has 7 charges of armed Strobbery

I went to hide in the watch store to buy me some time

Tuskaloosa

WANTED Man

I think he ransomware.

The media are calling him the Om Nom Nom de Plume.

"What do you call twins conceived on a waterbed? "Off springs!"

Oh, dad. Your sense of humor can't hold water...

Shit, now he's got me doing it. Send help!

Because they heard there was a cereal killer on the loose.

Hey, since we (the new mods) joined the sub 1,5 months ago we've made some changes, mostly with the rules and some backend stuff. Now I also updated the icon (slightly) and the banner (on redesign and mobile), too.

What do you guys think about it?

Do you like it? ( Yes/No ). What could be improved about it?

Also, are you happy with how we're moderating the subreddit? Are we too strict with the rules or toulouse too loose? Do the rules even make sense?

We want to improve this subreddit and we need your feedback for that, so feel free to speak your mind!

You can either simply leave a comment down here in the thread or send us a message.

Looking forward to your feedback and have a nice day! :)

Back a few decades, I was working in a program with a local college in the Middle East.

The name of the program for ExPats has the clever acronym of "IDEA" (hey, I said it was clever); which stands for "Inter-Departmental Educational Adjunct". It's interdepartmental because my particular specialty not only covers field geology but also paleontology and a bit of archeology thrown in for good measure. Everyone hopes to have a good IDEA...

ahem...

Well, we saddle up and head for the Dune Sea out in the west of the country, where the Precambrian, Cambrian, Silurian, Cretaceous, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and Holocene crop out and access is relatively easy and non-injurious.

Well, we caravan out, some 30 Land Cruisers, Nissan patrol, and the odd Mitsubishi Galloper strong. We all get our maps, compasses and split up into 5 or 6 special interest groups ("SIG's"); where each IDEA has his own GPS and LIDAR laser ranging apparatus. Reason being, that there are very few benchmarks out in the desert, and even those are constantly at the mercy of the shifting and ever-blowing sands.

Since we're split into groups and at any one time, ranging up to and including some 50 km2, when a real find is located, a device called the "DIME" (Digital-Interface Monitor Encoder) is attached and programmed into the GPS for location later; it is a digital sort of low-frequency transponder, developed from technology used by offshore drillers and jacket setters where benchmarks are even more transitory.

The way it works is rather simple. When something is to be marked for later retrieval, a series of wooden posts are pounded in a triangular manner around the find and the DIME is set, programmed with the GPS and attached to one or more of the posts.

That's the theory, at least.

Everything works well, especially all the hardened electronics and computer gizmos, but attaching the DIME to the stakes is the real problem. It can't be nailed, screwed or fastened with any sort of metal contrivance as that farkles the magnetic field and causes all sorts of goofy spurious signals. Zip ties don't last long in the heat and duct tape is right out. Many sites have been lost to the shifting sands this way.

Velcro doesn't work too well, as the sand fills the hooks of the receiving piece of velcro and soon renders it useless. String or fishing line work, but that's temporary (they melt). Glue or mastic are out as these are supposed to be temporary. Even plastic sleeves don't work due to the heat out

They had to walk on a loose wooden bridge to cross the river. My stepdad started walking on it but my stepmom refused to walk on it until my stepdad reached the other side.

When I asked her the reason , she pointed to a sign which read "One step at a time"

Water-tight bundles of untraceable drug-dealer cash.

Lost somewhere on the beach between West Palm Beach and Nag's Head, NC.

Also, loose pirate treasure of gold or silver.

Sentimental value. Small reward offered.

Whenever he used to walk, his claws used to make a ta-ta-ta-ta sound.

His other crab people used to be away from him. Due to this sound.

Once he was captured by a predator and was bumped on a rock and got loose from the predators grip and ran away.

After the bump his ta-ta-ta-ta sound went away automatically.

Since that incident, he got friends and a new name- Santa Claus.

Okay so the animals have been on the ark for thirty days and thirty nights and frankly they are getting bored. So to provide entertainment B-Deck challenges C-Deck to a game of football. They get it all set up and begin play. B-Deck makes some early gains but C-Deck is unstoppable. They have Rhinoceros and once he gets going you cant stop him. Soon the first half is over and the score is 24-7. The second half begins and while in the huddle Rhinoceros looks over at B-Decks defensive line and sees Centipede on their defensive line. "Give me the ball," he says, "There aren't going to be any centipedes in the new world because I'm crushing this one right here and right now" The Center snaps the ball and the quarterback hands it off to Rhinoceros who begins charging down Centipede. Centipede rears up grabs Rhinoceros by the legs and SLAMS him to the deck. Ball pops loose, centipede grabs the ball. He's rushing down the field weaving in and out and TOUCHDOWN!!! The crowd goes wild! C-Deck's captain, Lion rushes over and says, "Centipede that was amazing! Where were you in the first half?" "Well I was lacing my shoes."

My grandfather, in his younger days, retired from his NASCAR dreams to do construction so he could raise a family. Fast forward 45 years to 1994. I was around 15. My grandfather, grandmother, her mother, and I were on the return trip from the Costco and liquor store just inside the no sales tax state of Oregon. My grandfather was, as usual, driving. He raced for Lincoln and they sponsored him so they gave him a really good lifetime discount. He drove a brand new Continental his entire life. He always raced down to Oregon as fast as he could and then tried beating his time while driving back. Suddenly, at about 140mph, a Pheasant committed suicide on the front end. We could see feathers occasionally come loose. Grandpa already had a couple minutes to make up. Needless to say, despite my grandma's insistance, stopping to investigate wasn't in the plans. When we got home, he was cussing an ill timed traffic light with a bored motorcycle cop parked on the sidewalk waiting for his target. My grandma and great grandma nearly died when, without batting an eye, grandpa pulled the Pheasant off the car, grabbed his Gerber knife, and stripped, cleaned, and threw the bird on the BBQ. I was in dying from laughter at this point. Grandma and my great grandma were dying from embarrassment. He offered them some and grandma angrily refused for the 3 of us, calling it road kill. Without skipping a beat, he calmly replied "This isn't road kill, it's Continental Wild Pheasant, Twice-Grilled."

In the not too distant future, web censorship is pervasive; speech and freedom are strangers to one another; while pirates sail the seas with impunity, digital pirates are incarcerated by the busload.

Anyone who speaks out against this ban on open-dialogue or the free-sharing-of-ideas is ground down and hidden away, and the resistance is loosing its will.

A small group of contributors to reddit, huddled together in a bunker beneath barely-waving flags of Snoo, worked tirelessly to repost new ideas from around the internet, to release ideas from their chains, and make speech free ... again!

But it was not to be - a gang of the governments anti-piracy enforcers descended on this, the last bastion of humankind's will to share-freely. Arriving in an armored bus, ten shock-troopers breached the bunker and it looked like the day was lost.

Fortunately for us all, one brave redditor led the collective out a back entrance and they circled to the driveway. This leader told the other redditors to wait in the bushes while he overpowered the one soldier left guarding the transport. There was a flash of movement, a crack from a fallen branch as it struck the guard, and then, stolen keys in hand, the hero revved the engine and told the redditors to pile in.

He had to will himself ignore the gas gauge as he floored the accelerator on the 25,000 pound ticket to freedom - there was only survival or defeat, and nothing in between. Sirens came alive behind him as he rushed for the border to the promised land, to the Free-North.

As the engine begins to cough, the titanic weight of the transport cleaves the barricades asunder and the pursuing vehichles have to hard-brake to avoid skidding beyond their corrupt jurisdiction. Both exhausted and elated, the redditors follow their hero to the freedom promised by their new surroundings ... but their peril is not yet passed.

Though most of the pirate-hunters glower from the south-side of the border, one special agent has crossed over and is speaking with the border guards. The tension is thick. A long-faced guard turns to the newcomers, clearly troubled by what he must do.

"Folks," he says, a pained look on his kindly face, "I'm sorry, to do this, don't cha' know, but I got no choice, eh!"

Confused, the redditors look to one another, and tremble as they notice the agent's smug expression, greedy eyes fixed on the leader of the exodus.

"Look here, now, you are all welcome here, of course, and since speech is free here, we are

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

I honestly just had a dream that belongs here. At the start of the dream, I meticulously engraved the word "Over" into a knife when I started getting all these friends and old contacts telling me to leave them alone and blocking me... when I didn't say shit. I finally notice somebody is going through my contacts on all social media one at a time and just ruining friendships sending lewd photos of their junk.

I realize it's coming from my computer at home and I can't get remoted into it so I start driving home... only to get caught in a bunch of tornados. One smaller one picks me up and throws my car about 20ft knocking my wheel loose.

I limp my car away from that tornado only to find another doing like a Mexican standoff with me on the highway. I turned to the random person in my passenger seat holding up the knife and said "Wind or Loose, it'll be Over in a Flash" and I woke up. Now I feel the need to change all my passwords...

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.”

Sitting around having a few beers for father's day. The hour hand had come loose from the clock on the back porch and he went about fixing it, like he does most things. Finished up surprisingly quickly so I asked if he was done.

Dad: "Only time will tell"

I laughed so good. His grin was priceless. He was so proud of himself.

Good day.

They have a loose nut on the grip.

There's no whey they could have that much protein

You curdnt make a worse joke

Gordon rennet

I'm gonna loose my rind soon

Ewe, these puns are udderly ridiculous

You're milking it for all its worth

There's been a real montery lack of jokes recently

There's a real lactose of jokes recently

These jokes are starting to grate on me now

These jokes aren't gouda

Are you gonna put these on rennet?

I can't breelieve you're still making jokes

Dad, it's your turn, though you should have made a joke whey back

edayumDayumDAAAYUM

How much cheddar is the bill gonna be?

Hope these jokes made you truckle!

My mom was worried that we had a feral animal of some kind on the loose in the neighborhood. She said to my dad, "How close were they?" My dad's response was, "Well I don't know what kind of relationship they had, honey."

So my dad got us pretty good in a family text conversation.

So my little brother sends us a picture of a bunch of juice he has made and put in jars in his fridge.

LB: Going on a juice diet for the next 30 days, gotta loose 50 lbs in 2017!

Dad: I cooked beans and ham soup. I'm on a expelling air diet.

Dad: I've lost 5psi in 2days!

Dad: I'm thinking about getting a methane generator and going off the grid.

Me: 🙄

So me and my dad (yeah, I got dadjoked by my DAD. Now isen't that something new on this thread) were driving in the countryside, when we got to a farm which lays almost completely up to the road. The hens had broken loose, so because we didn't want to drive them over we waited for the road to clear. After about 10 seconds of waiting, my dad turned to me and said: ''Well, I guess we're cockblocked'' I fucking burst out laughing.

I ordered a bunch of loose fancy tea on the internet. Wanting to let people in the house know that I am expecting a package, I said, "Hey, I just ordered a bunch of tea. It's coming FedEx. It should be here on Friday or Saturday." To which my mom says, "It'll have gone cold by then."

So I was making a pot of loose leaf tea, and I see a dry clean-looking spoon on the counter by the tea, so I ask my wife "Is this a tea spoon?"

Then she (rudely, I might add) glared at me and said "yes." in a flat monotone.

I looked at her, confused and offended, so she said "It's a teaspoon."

I wish I could say I got it then, but she had to clarify further: "No, it's an actual teaspoon, and yes you can use it for the tea."

...

Anyway, how does it work at this point? Should I be the one to tell our daughter that her mom is her new dad now, or does that need to come from my wife?

I made a dad joke the other day, probably not an original but I came up with it on the spot and I am proud enough that I felt the internet had to know!

Setting: a backpacker hostel in New Zealand. A couple are talking about a time when some farmers set sheep loose in the Louvre in France as a protest.

The set up: the girl says 'and a pony walked into a police station on its own once too'

To which I turned around and replied: 'I heard about that, he was trying to report a crime but couldn't get his point across because he was a little hoarse'

Which resulted in a blank stare from the French girl and uproarous laughter followed by a somber head shake from the Scottish guy.

Putting that one in the bank for when I have kids.

So me and my sister were in the car with my dad talking about school. she mentions that her friend had stapled her hand and my dad goes "what was she afraid she'd loose it?". Later she was talking about a general knowledge quiz she had to do, one of the questions was how many people are on a rugby team and my dad responds with "all of them."

We were all sitting there watching an Animal Planet special on bird migration (not by choice, the remote died), and after a few minutes apparent contemplation dad let this one loose on us.

"Did you hear about the ornithologist whose expedition was cancelled due to a severe snow storm?

I guess you could say things took an arctic tern for the worst!"

I think I may be booking a seat on the soonest ice floe out of this burg just to get away.

Oh no, he's got me doing it! It's spreading - run, save yourselves!

I was drinking in an Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day a few years ago when the building suffered a malfunction. The register cover of the air conditioning vent was not secured to the wall and worked its way loose, hitting me and a friend. I ended up with a cut on my forehead, a spiffy blue bandaid from the kitchen first aid kit, and a comped bar tab.

My dad told me I should have duct.

A piece of string walks into a bar, the bartender looks at him and says "Sorry, we don't serve string around here" so the piece of string walks on. The string sitting on the sidewalk really thirsty jumps up and says "Hey! I've got an idea." so he starts twisting turning wriggling around pull out a few loose threads and walks back into the bar. The bartender looks at him suspiciously and says "Hey, aren't you that piece of string that walked in here a few minutes ago?" The string replies "No, I'm a frayed knot"

So when I was cooking in the kitchen (which is very narrow and small) I accidentally brushed up on a loosely closed tin can of Door Varnish spilling it all everywhere. I had to explain after I tried to clean it up to my mother and brother.

Me: So yeah, I spilled the whole can of door varnish on the kitchen floor and the hallway, it's going to hard to walk around for a little while.

My Brother: changes conversation Anyways are you free tomorrow, Mum?

My Mother: Yes, but first we must get out of this sticky situation.

There’s a small medium at large.