One Way Out Puns

One of my favorite activities is hiking, and my Dad absolutely detests hiking, so I thought it was a little odd when he asked me if I wanted to go hiking. I said yes, and we did. Then a few days later he asked me to go hiking again. It took about six trips in total for me to answer with "Count me in!" Then, with the biggest smirk in the world plastered on his face he proudly said "One."

He went hiking with my six times in the hopes that eventually I would say count me in, and he could use that joke. Bravo, Dad. Bravo.

I just started a job this week and I have been getting my access set up through IT.

Stepmom: So FerretAres, was the IT person a man or a woman.

Me: I don't know it was an e-mail.

Dad: Well then it must have been a guy, otherwise it would have been an e-female.

Me: Ugh, I'm bored.

Landlord: Nice to meet you bored, I'm Landlord.

Me: groan

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

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

A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night? The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a very strange sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, We can't tell you. You're not a monk.

The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way. Some years later, The same man breaks down in front of the same monastery. The monks again accept him, feed him, and again fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier. The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, We can't tell you. You're not a monk.

The man says, All right, all right. I'm dying to know.

If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?

The monks reply, You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles, when you find these numbers, you will become a monk. The man sets about his task. Some 54 years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery.

He says, I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.

The monks reply, Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.

The monks lead the man to a wooden door where the head monk says, The sound is right behind that door. The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked.

He says, Real funny. May I have the key? The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone.

The man demands the key to the stone door. The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. He demands another key from the monks, who provide it.

Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire, And so it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst.

Finally, the monks say, This is the last key to the last door.

The man is relieved to know that he has finally reached to the end.

He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.

But he can't tell you what it is because you're not a monk.

One called Justin and the other called Kristian. The prawns were constantly being harassed and threatened by sharks that inhabited the area:

Finally one day Justin said to Kristian. "I'm fed up with being a prawn. I wish I was a shark and then I wouldn't have any worries about being eaten."

A large mysterious cod appeared and said. "Your wish is granted" Low and behold, Justin turned into a shark. Horrified, Kristian immediately swam away, afraid of being eaten by his old mate.

Time passed (as it does) and Justin found life as a shark boring and lonely All his old mates simply swam away whenever he came close to them. Justin didn't realise that his new menacing appearance was the cause of his sad plight.

While swimming alone one day he saw the mysterious cod again and he thought perhaps the mysterious fish could change him back into a prawn..

He approached the cod and begged to be changed back, and, lo and behold, he found himself turned back into a prawn.

With tears of joy in his tiny little eyes Justin swam to Kristian's home. As he opened the coral gate, memories came flooding back. He banged on the door and shouted. "It's me, Justin, your old friend, come out and see me again."

Kristian replied. "No way man, you'll eat me. You're now a shark, the enemy and I'll not be tricked into being your dinner." Justin cried back. "No, I'm not. That was the old me. I've changed....... I've found Cod. I'm a Prawn again Kristian!!.. 🤪🤣

A man named Dave comes home very drunk late at night...

So this guy has been drinking with his buddies all night and he's as drunk as a skunk, gets home, falls up the stairs, undresses and goes to bed next to his wife. He falls asleep and next thing he knows, bang, he dies and finds himself waiting at the pearly gates.

The guy refuses to believe this is happening, he says to St. Peter: "This can't be possible, I'm a healthy man! This is not the way I die. You have to let me return down there!"
The guy can see St. Peter looks like he's feeling sorry for him, but he tells him that unfortunately, there's no policy for allowing people back on Earth. The guy insists: "But come on, there's got to be something you can do! I'll put up with anything, really, as long as you let me go back down."
So St. Peters tells him: "Well really, there's just this one possibility: you can go back, but only as a hen. That's the only thing we can allow." The guy guesses that this really is his only chance, so he agrees reluctantly.
So he's back on Earth in this beautiful chicken coop, the sun is shining, there's green grass everywhere, this is hen paradise. The other hens greet him with delight and he tells them his story, everything goes nicely. But then he feels kind of unwell, there's something wrong with his stomach. He asks this old hen: "Tell me, I've got this weird feeling in my belly, I'm not too well. What is happening to me?"

The old hen: "Well dearie, we hens lay eggs, you know. I bet you've never laid a nice egg before... You need to push it out now, and you'll feel much better after!"
So the guy pushes and pushes, and wham, out pops his first egg. The old hen congratulates him and he feels much better. But not 5 minutes later, his pain comes back. He returns to the old hen for advice.

"Well dearie, it's quite special but it happens that you need to lay TWO eggs, so go back there and keep pushing!"
So he goes back to his nest and pushes, and nothing comes, and he pushes harder, and wham, out comes his second egg! He feels much better, but not 2 minutes later, you guessed it, he's back in terrible pain and goes to see the old hen.

"What's this bullshit here, and don't tell me I've got a third egg to lay!" The old hen can't make head or tail of it and just tells him that when in doubt, he should be pushing. So the guy goes back to work and then, wham, his wife wakes him up with this smashing slap in the face and yells: "*Dave! Dave wake up you’re

A number of years ago I was in a rock band. We were hugely successful, playing some of the biggest venues and entertaining swarms of fans.

The last shoes we ever played were on our world tour. We played the Americas and then flew over to Europe. We played our way through Russia and even a couple of gigs in China, before selling out our final show in Japan.

It was a hell of a Journey, but it was time for me to hang up my guitar. I retired from the rock star life and got an office job in Tokyo.

I made a few friends at work, and grew close with one in particular, Narada-san. One day Narada had the day off for a funeral, but that wasn't enough; he needed more time. He was torn between his obligation to return to work and his desire to have more time at home. He asked me what he should do.

The answer was simple. I picked up my guitar and played a Japanese version of our biggest hit from 1981:

Don't Stop Bereaving

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

Finally, she thought of a clever way to make her point.

When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors.

I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house.

I was gone only a minute and when I came out, I handed her a toothbrush.

I said, "When you finish cutting the grass, you might as well sweep the driveway."

The doctors say I will walk again, but I will always have a slight limp...

1. Why was the fraction apprehensive about marrying the decimal? Because he would have to convert.

2. Why do plants hate math? It gives them square roots.

3. Why did the student get upset when his teacher called him average? It was a mean thing to say!

4. Why was the math book depressed? It had a lot of problems.

5. Why is the obtuse triangle always so frustrated? Because it is never right.

6. Why can you never trust a math teacher holding graphing paper? He must be plotting something.

7. Why was the equal sign so humble? Because she knew she wasn’t greater than or less than anyone else.

8. What do you call the number 7 and the number 3 when they go out on a date? The odd couple

9. What do you call a number that can’t stay in one place? A Roamin’ numeral.

10. Did you hear the one about the statistician? Probably.

11. What do you call dudes who love math? Algebros.

12. I’ll do algebra, I’ll do trig. I’ll even do statistics. But graphing is where I draw the line!

13. Why should you never talk to Pi? Because she’ll go on and on and on forever.

14. Why are parallel lines so tragic if they have so much in common? It’s a shame they’ll never meet.

15. Are monsters good at math? Not unless you Count Dracula.

16. What’s the best way to flirt with a math teacher? Use acute angle.

17. Did you hear about the mathematician who is afraid of negative numbers? They’d stop at nothing to avoid them.

18. How do you stay warm in any room? Just huddle in the corner, where it’s always 90 degrees.

19. Why is six afraid of seven? Because seven eight ("ate") nine!

20. Why DID seven eat nine? Because you’re supposed to eat 3 squared meals a day!

21. Why does nobody talk to circles? Because there is no point.

One of the most tragic is the art of hand making exit signs which is really on the way out.

Ok, so this one needs a bit of buildup.

At the time (a week or so ago) I was making a homebrew item for DnD (for the uninformed, Homebrew are custom made items/classes/spells to use in a DnD game at the discretion of the DM (Dungeon Master)).

I had shown this item (shameless plug) to my friend (who is also the DM of the campaign I'm in now) in the hopes of using it in the campaign. He had pointed out that the item was a bit OP for it's cost and that the homebrew page I had made for it was too long. We were discussing ways to improve both the item and the page, and then got on the topic of magic items in general.

It went something along the lines of this:

DM: ... you can't really destroy a magic item before removing the magic from it. Like, you could try to melt down a magic sword for example, but all that would really do is make it too hot to hold. You could even bend it, but not outright destroy it.

Me: That's gotta be one pissed off magic sword.

DM: I mean, yeah, if it's sentient.

Me: Maybe it got so angry at being bent, that it gains sentience just spite you or something.

DM: Well, yeah maybe.

And this, people of reddit, is when the PUN, popped into my head.

Me: *leans in* you could say that the sword gained sentience cuz it got... bent out of shape.

A second or two of silence, and I see the pun register in his head, and I fucking lost it.

I then laugh for a straight minute. After about ten secunds of me busting a gut, he said "Aight, Imma head out"

We're cool now, but he really didn't want to talk to me the next day.

but the only way out was from the roof. They got up there, before realizing they didn’t have any rope. One guy says, “Oh yeah! I’ve got a flashlight! Ill point it to the ground and you can climb down the beam.” The other guy says, “What, am I crazy? I’d get half way down and you’d turn it off!”

The work of Steven Wright, he's the famous Erudite (comic) scientist who once said: "I woke up one morning, and all of my stuff had been stolen and replaced by exact duplicates."

1   - I'd kill for a Nobel Peace Prize.

2   - Borrow money from pessimists -- they don't expect it back.

3   - Half the people you know are below average.

4   - 99% of lawyers give the rest a bad name.

6   - A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts feel so good.

7   - A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

8   - If you want the rainbow, you have got to put up with the rain.

9   - All those who believe in psychokinesis, raise my hand.

10 - The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

11 - I almost had a psychic girlfriend, ...... But she left me before we met.

12 - OK, so what's the speed of dark?

13 - How do you tell when you're out of invisible ink?

14 - If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.

15 - Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.

16 - When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.

17 - Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense to be lazy.

18 - Hard work pays off in the future; laziness pays off now.

19 - I intend to live forever... So far, so good.

21 - Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.

22 - What happens if you get scared half to death twice?

23 - My mechanic told me, "I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder."

24 - Why do psychics have to ask you for your name.

25 - If at first, you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.

26 - A conclusion is a place where you got tired of thinking.

27 - Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.

28 - The hardness of the butter is proportional to the softness of the bread.

29 - To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is research.

30 - The problem with the gene pool is that there is no lifeguard.

31 - The sooner you fall behind, the more time you'll have to catch up.

32 - The colder the x-ray table, the more of your body is required to be on it.

33 - Everyone has a photographic memory; some just don't have film.

34 - If at first, you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you.

35 - If your car could travel at the speed of light, would your headlights work?

Surrounded by his son, his twin daughters and a haggard-looking nurse who looked about ready to end it all if only she could find the bloody switch, he was finally breathing his last.

His son, who loved him dearly and wasn't at all sure if he had been cut out of the will or not, burst into tears at the plight of a man who would look more at home in a red woolly outfit than he ever could in drab, white linen.

"I do not wish to die today, Anthony", he intoned fixing his gaze slightly above his son's left shoulder, "there is something you must do to save me."

"Tell me what to do dad, I can't bear to look at you this way", cried Anthony.

"There is a land, not far from here, where no one ever dies. It is not for dying you see. That is where I must go."

"Where is this place father? Tell me, and I shall take you to it."

"Take me there now", he said faintly as if in great pain, "Take me to, The Living Room."

Snail slides into a Tesla dealership after seeing Elon Musk on TV. Inches his way up to a salesperson. Snail asks to go on a test drive, the sales person shrugs, says sure, why not. It's been a slow day.

After it's over, snail is impressed. "I gotta get one of these!

Saleswoman asks if he can afford it. He is, after all, a snail. Snail retreats into his shell comes out with a wad of cash, the exact amount for the car.

"Yeah lady, I can pay! Can I get it customized?"

The woman says of course, but it'll cost more. Snail whips out more dough.

Snail says "Paint it with pink S's all over the vehicle!"

The saleswoman says sure and asks why.

The snail says "When I'm driving around, I want people to say 'WOW! Look at that fast, pink electric S-car go!'"

I once had a job in a t-shirt factory. Every day, t-shirts would come down the line, and using this big rubber stamp, I’d apply a handful of dots to them, at random, to just given them a general design that wasn’t blank t-shirt. It was soul sucking, but it paid the bills.

However, I kept running into a problem. I wasn’t applying the dots fast enough. It was a mental thing - I’d get hung up on where should I apply the next dot so it doesn’t look bad, etc. But one of the guys who’d been there longer than I had gave me a piece of advice. He told me to cross to my eyes. That way, I could just kinda zone out and hit the t-shirt a few times randomly without paying much attention to where exactly I was applying the dots. It worked like magic.

Well eventually I was getting ready to leave the factory and they had me train my replacement. It only took one day. I left him with one piece of advice. I told him not to get too hung up on the specific details but just to make sure he dotted his tees and crossed his eyes.

After a few hours of debate, no one was willing to concede, and it was decided that a vote must be held. Unfortunately, with so few friends present, it was clear that they would need to bring the vote to the greater public. The group decided that each friend would make a plea to the subreddit of their choice, and whoever received the most karma for it would win.

Adam, already undecided himself, decided to go to /r/AskReddit. He laid out the agreement, and asked that everyone vote one their favorite movie, and the one with the most votes he would use for the his friends. Unfortunately, as the votes were split in that sub, his highest post amounted to a mere 38 points.

Paul, a big proponent for the Toy Story franchise, posted to /r/nostalgia in the hopes that everyone who grew up with Toy Story would agree. Unfortunately, as there had been two sequels (with a third on the way) it wasn't exactly considered "nostalgia" and he got downvoted into oblivion.

Bill, who loved Monsters Inc., made his case using some trickery. Going to /r/news, he found a seemingly unrelated post, and made a top-level comment describing, in great detail, why Monsters Inc. was the greatest film of all time. The fact that the post was so out of context made everyone flock to it, and drew enough attention to new him over a thousand fake internet points.

Mike, who loved the Incredibles movies, decided to stay in his wheelhouse. Over the course of several hours, he created each of the family members from the Incredibles in Soulcaliber VI. Finally, he photoshopped the family together, and posted it to /r/gaming. Under normal circumstances this would have skyrocketed to the top, but the format was stale, and thus only received 20k karma. Still, Mike was confident in his victory.

While the other four friends came up with plans on how to maximize their karma gains, Chris sat silently. For hours he sat, making no posts, coming up with no original content. Finally, an hour before the deadline, he broke into his neighbor's house, stealing his copy of the Pixar movie "Up". He took a picture of his theft and posted it directly to /r/dadjokes with the title "STOLEN".

When the group got together the next day to see who got the most votes, everyone was in awe. Chris's post had over 40,000 points. "How did you know that would win?" "Easy," Chris replied. "Everyone knows stolen content on /r/dadjokes gets all the Up votes."

An art critic was judging paintings at an event.

The first one was a bland painting of the earth. not too bad, but nothing out of this world.

The second one was a blank painting. Why they even turned it it, don’t ask.

The third one though. The third one was a beautifully crafted painting of a sheep.

The art critic turned to the artist. All they had to say was, “Wow, I am wooly astonished. The shear amount of detail of this art ewe made, which definitely lambs you into first place. This might be way pasture standards, but too baaad, don’t be sheepish. This piece definitely separates the sheep from the goats, it will definitely farm you some moo-lah.

In the version they're doing, the bass section plays a bit at the start, then just sits there til the final part of the last movement. So, they decide to leave the concert and go out for drinks.

While at the bar down the street, they meet a European nobleman, and they become good friends. Unfortunately, the guy had been gorging himself on crappy bar food, and he quickly falls into a food coma.

One of the basses drunkenly checks his watch and says, "crap! We're not going to get back on stage in time!" As they're sprinting back, one of them says, "actually, I thought this would happen, so I tied some of the pages of the conductor's score together - that way, he'll have to slow the tempo way down with his right hand while undoes the knots with his left!"

And so they get back just in time to finish the Symphony, and the audience is none the wiser. The conductor, however, was furious.

After all, they'd left him at the bottom of the 9th, with the score tied, while the basses were loaded, and the Count was full.

Once upon a time there were three little pigs, Pork Chop, Hambone, and Bacon.

The boys lived at home with their mother. One day their mother said, “I no longer have enough food to feed you boys, you need to go out on your own and find your fortunes.”

Not wanting to upset their mother they left the house together to seek their fortunes.

Several miles into their journey Bacon, the little pig everyone liked best, said, “Let’s build our houses here! This seems like a great place to start making our fortunes.”

Pork Chop and Hambone agreed. So they all began building their houses.

Pork Chop, the laziest of the bunch, decided to build his house out of straw, which he apparently stole from a nearby field. It was not a very sturdy building material, but Pork Chop didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play all day, and he didn’t want to spend too much time building.

Hambone was willing to work a bit harder and he decided to build his house out of sticks which he procured by de-limbing every tree within a 300 meter radius of their homestead.

Hambone and Pork Chop were happy. Now all they had to do was to play and sleep the rest of the day.

Now Bacon was a hard worker. He knew that his brothers had used bad materials and shoddy construction methods and he wanted to build the best house he could. He found several tons of bricks stacked in neatly ordered pallets in the forest which he decided to use for his building material. It took him several days, but when he was done Bacon had the best house on the homestead.

The next day a wolf, Scott Howard, happened upon the pig brothers and their new homestead. He spied the straw house and smelled Pork Chop inside and began to think to himself that Pork Chop would make a mighty fine meal, so Scott went and knocked on the door.

Scott said, “Little Pig! Little Pig! Let me in!”

Pork Chop replied, “No way José! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”

Scott, undeterred by the reply says, “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crappy straw house to the ground!”

Scott began to huff and puff. He was evidently having some sort of asthma attack, but after a few tugs from his handy dandy rescue inhaler, he was able to muster enough wind to blow Pork Chops straw house to the ground.

Pork Chop narrowly escaped Scott’s massive jaws. Scared, and now homeless, Pork Chop ran for the nearest shelter he could see. Hambone’s house.

Scott, undeterred, chased Pork Chop to his new hiding place. Scott was very pleas

... he was single and treated himself to a nice evening. Next to his table sat this gorgeus woman. Red hairs, curvy body, green eyes and the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

He thought about how he could approach her, but just couldn't figure out a good way. Suddenly she sneezed and her glass eye came flying out straight at him. He jumped up and caught it before it hit the ground. They started to talk, one thing lead to the next and they ended up at her place.

A night of sexytime followed, and the next morning he woke up to the smell of fresh toast, eggs and coffee. She awaited him in the kitchen with a great big breakfast.

"No woman has ever treated me so nice.", he said, "You are just perfect. Do you do this for every man you meet?"

"No.", she replied....

"but you just happened to catch my eye."

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

So my front yard has a lot of weeds and crappy grass I've been trying to get rid of for years. They're mutants, so nothing will kill them. This year, one of the decorative rocks has turned out to be covered by a giant shroom as well. This thing is enormous. It has about a hundred different canopies, but as far as I can tell it's all one organism.

So I was talking with her about things I might be able to use to get rid of all this stuff, shroom included, and after she suggested a mixture of various household products I asked if it would work on fungus as well. She said it was worth a shot and asked why I wanted to know.

I replied, "Because that thing's just taking up way too mush room."

I was over it in a few seconds, but she's been randomly cracking up for days now. Send help.

So once upon a time, there was a planet shaped like a cheerio. A small moon made of milk or tied the planet, going through the center of the donut shaped world. On this planet, lived an interesting species. They acted and lived similarly to us humans? But looked just like large Cheerios (with footings hands and feet like miis) Within this society there were levels of Cheerios: original, honey nut, and finally frosted. The originals were the backbone of the economy, doing the herd labor while the honey nuts ran the businesses and the frosted Cheerios (the top of the top) led the world. Our story today focuses on a single Cheerio. Born into an original Cheerio family, this lad learned the hard way how to work. From a young age, he was forced to get a job in the local milk refinery, where his dad worked. He grew up, and soon had a family of his own. His wife, son, and daughter all worked hard, but were happy. One day walking home from school, the kids found a runaway honey nut Cheerio pup, and decided to keep him. It wasn’t much, but it inspired our little Cheerio friend here. One day, he got fed up with taking orders, and demanded a raise. His entire family has worked in this one factory for three generations, and he wanted to move up in the world, not just for him but also his kids. His old boss however, did not have the power to promote this Cheerio, and he was forced to make a life changing decision: he would go to the refinery company and use every penny in the family savings account (under the bed) to try and get a higher position. After waiting on line for over a week, his appoint was finally here. After bickering and bargaining for hours, the refinery company boss saw a spark in this lad’s eye. He agreed to give this Cheerio a promotion to the honored honey nut glaze in exchange for everything this man owned, including the family’s prized honey nut dog. Was it worth it? Well pretty soon he owned his own milk refinery and was able to breed his own honey nut dogs, so yes, yes it was. Owning and operating the refinery went smoothly. Milk was transported from the moon to the planet using space busses, and the milk itself was funneled down to the refineries using large straws. After the milk was ready to drink, it was shipped off to be sold. He was happy working here, but eventually he realized it wasn’t enough. This Cheerio, once a simple original Cheerio wanted to follow the “American dream” and do the best he could. He wanted to become a frosted Ch

A man is walking home alone one foggy evening, when behind him he faintly hears:

thump...

thump...

thump...

Senses tingling, he begins walking faster only to look back and make out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street towards him.

THUMP...

THUMP...

THUMP...

Terrified, the man begins running home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him.

FASTER

FASTER

THUMP...

THUMP...

THUMP...

He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, slams it shut and locks it behind him.

However, the casket crashes through the door, and with the lid of the casket clacking on his heels, the terrified man runs.

Clappity-THUMP...

Clappity-THUMP...

Clappity-THUMP...

Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; his breath is coming in sobbing gasps.

With a loud CRASH! the casket breaks down the door. Thumping and clapping towards him, the man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup! Desperate, he throws it at the casket and...

The coffin stops.

If your onion sang hip-hop, would that be a rapscallion?

I used to be an astronaut, but I got tired of eating out of satellite dishes. I wasn't allowed to eat the Milky Way, even though I had to look at it every day. The worst thing was, I never got to visit The Space Bar. Then, when I was visiting the dark side of the moon, I was bitten by a parasite. Now, you might think it's crazy, but the doctor who removed it called it a lunar-tick.

If "womb" is pronounced "woom" and "tomb" is pronounced "toom", shouldn't "bomb" be pronounced "boom"?

China recently tested a new steroid. It basically turns you into The Hulk. The side effect is it could turn you into a crazed zombie that tends to rip the upper extremities from people. People are saying that this could be the zombie apocalypse. In my opinion, lips have nothing to do with it. I call it ARMageddon. The only way to stay safe now is to not let anyone close enough to disarm you.

I recently was going to join the railroad union. I decided against it because it's complicated. If I received instruction on driving the locomotive, would they call it engineering, or training?

I got a sad story about a flower. I don't know who the heck she pissed off, but damn, now she's a Black-Eyed Susan.

I finally figured out what makes leaves angry. Fall. They get so mad they change color. Some are yellow. They're just afraid and run from their problems. The other ones usually just leave.

I went parachuting with my military buddies once. We landed on a department store. I told him I think we're at the wrong coordinates. He said: "Nope. We're right on Target"

I asked a psychologist if Native Americans have strong emotions. He said "Oh yeah, they're intense".

If a psychotic person thought something made sense, would that thought be psychological?

If Matt Damon were searching for a secondhand store, would he be Goodwill Hunting?

My friend is a Marksman for the military. One day, he went to the armory and asked for 3 snipers. They gave him a candy bar. It was a 3 Musketeers.

I want to be there if Dwayne Johnson ever uses a pizza stone. That way I can smell what "The Rock" is cookin'.

Christopher bought a lemon, and the car broke down. Now Christopher Walken.

Have you heard about the latest bank battle on Wall Street? Capital One and Chase got in a fight and Capital One.

You know what a pirate says to his wenches when he sees the shoreline? "LAND HO!"

A man finds a lamp in the desert and dusts it off. Poof! A genie p

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

One of the classic  Abbott and Costello  routines, where Bud Abbott takes advantage of a common math mistake that we all make to fleece his pal, Lou Costello, out of all of his money.  The skit ends with a simple ‘read my mind’ routine that takes Lou’s last remaining bill.  This routine was done  many  times, both in the movies and their radio show.

Bud Abbott: Do me a favor, loan me $50.
Lou Costello: Bud, I can’t. I can’t loan you $50.
Bud Abbott: Oh, yes, ya can.
Lou Costello: No, I can’t. All I got is $40.
Bud Abbott: All right, give me the $40 and you’ll owe me 10  
Lou Costello: Ok, I’ll owe you 10.
Bud Abbott: That’s right.
Lou Costello: How come I owe you 10?
Bud Abbott: How much did I ask for?
Lou Costello: 50
Bud Abbott: How much did you give me?
Lou Costello: 40.
Bud Abbott: So you owe me $10.
Lou Costello: That’s right.  [Pause] But you owe me 40.
Bud Abbott: Don’t change the subject.
Lou Costello: I’m not changing the subject; you’re trying to change my finances. Come on, Abbott give me my $40.
Bud Abbott: All right, there’s your $40, now give me the 10 you owe me.
Lou Costello: I’m paying you on account.
Bud Abbott: On account?
Lou Costello: On account I don’t know how I owe it to ya.
Bud Abbott: That’s the way you feel about it, that’s the last time I ask you for a loan of $50.
Lou Costello: But how can I loan ya $50, now. All I got is 30.
Bud Abbott: Well, give me the 30 and you’ll owe me 20.
Lou Costello: Ok. This is getting worse all the time. (Look at audience) First I owe him 10, now I owe him 20.
Bud Abbott: Well, why do you run yourself into debt?
Lou Costello: I’m not running in, you’re pushing me!1
Bud Abbott: I can’t help it if you can’t handle your finances. I do all right with my money.
Lou Costello: And you do all right with my money too.
Bud Abbott: Now I asked you for a loan of $50. You gave me 30, so you owe me 20. 20 and 30 is 50.
Lou Costello: No. No. No. 25 and 25 is 50.
Bud Abbott: All right, here’s your $30, now give me the 20 you owe me. Fine guy, won’t loan a pal $50.

As a professional children's entertainer, finding the dad jokes thread has been a real blessing. I work mainly with children between the ages of four and eight, and, for obvious reasons, I need to keep my jokes clean. In my business, a groan is just as good as the laugh because it usually is accompanied by a smile!

I'm afraid I don't know who started it, but the "this paper says otherwise" is easily one of my favorites. I took the liberty of having 500 business cards that say "otherwise" on them. I use them in my performances in a variety of ways. If I see a dad after my show who looks like the type who might enjoy a good pun, I will go up to him and ask him if he thought the show was good. Inevitably he will say yes, and I'll tell him that "Unfortunately this card says otherwise." I then leave the dad with the card to use at his own behest.

Just wanted to give a big shout out and a big thank you to the Dad jokes community for inspiration. People ask me what I do for a living and I tell them I'm the Jimmy Fallon to five-year-olds. Thanks so much for contributing all you guys do!

Me: I'm home

Dad: Hi home, I'm dad.

Me: Wow, way to pull out the dad jokes.

Dad: I always pull out the dad jokes. One time I didn't and that's how I got you.

Some of them were pretty strange: only he could understand them and explaining the 'pun' to somebody else would take like half an hour. Anyway-

He said, "So I'll go first?"

I said sure.

I think he took "pun-a-thon" a bit too literally - he took out a marker and drew a point, and then he kept drawing this straight line (he's good at drawing straight lines) while taking how many ever steps back. I for one was concerned, because first off I didn't know how long I'd have to stick around for this, and second of all, I didn't know if I could clean the mess he'd inevitably leave behind.

He kept drawing this line! We stepped out of my living room, then my apartment which was on ground-level, and he kept drawing it. He drew his line all the way through the corridor, up until the entrance to the building, and when I kept asking him if he's done yet, he didn't say a word. I had to keep subtly reassuring security and everyone who was staring at my friend hunched over like that robot from Wall-E.

He stepped out of the building and kept on drawing his line. At this point I was trying to guess what the hell is the outcome. I kept screaming punchlines at him like "is this where you draw the line?", "are you going to punch me after this so this is a punchline?" and shit like that. There were people following us and two were taking videos and it was really fucking uncomfortable.

Right after he was outside the building and the premises, he started to draw this stunning drawing of the building right on the pavement. It was almost magical, as if he had been commissioned to make an ad for my place but for a million bucks. At this point the people who were following us didn't even get pissed off because they were so engrossed in his drawing. I was surprised the marker kept going on.

After about 20 minutes - he was a real quick draw (no pun intended) - he stood up and a crowd of two dozen clapped and cheered for him.

I told him, "Dude that looks fucking amazing, but I thought we were in a pun-a-thon. Why such a long set-up?"

He replied, "Yeah it was pretty drawn out."

(for more drawn-out jokes like this, visit r/feghoot!)

Him: Is there any tattooists in town? Me: Fairly sure there is one guy about 10 minutes out...? Him: Oh good! 'Cause I want him to tattoo a rabbit on the top of my head. Me: ..Why...? Him: 'Cause then someone might mistake it for a hare!

He giggled his way out

Why did the scarecrow win a prize? Because he stood alone in his field! He stood there for years, rotting, until he was forgotten.

I tell my kids, you’re allowed to watch the TV all you want… Just don’t turn it on! This way they will begin to understand the futility of all things.

How does a penguin build a house? Igloos it together. Like all animals, it is an automaton, driven by blind genetic imperative, marching slowly to oblivion.

Why don’t skeletons go trick or treating? They have no body to go with them! The skeletons are like us: alone, empty, dead already.

I don’t really like playing soccer. I just do it for kicks! Like all of humanity, I pretend to enjoy things, and others pretend to care about my charade.

You hear about the moon restaurant? Good food, no atmosphere! If you eat there, you forfeit your life, which would make no difference to the universe as a whole.

Why did the blonde focus on an orange juice container? It said concentrate! She realized that society’s depictions of her were like the juice: formulaic, insipid, fake.

My wife told me to put the cat out. I didn’t know it was on fire! By the time I could act, it was incinerated, a harbinger of the path we all must take.

How come the invisible man wasn’t offered a job? They just couldn’t see him doing it! This man stands for all of us: unseen, misunderstood, irrelevant.

Today I gave away my old batteries… Free of charge! No one wanted them, so I became angry and threw them in the yard. The battery acid now leaks into the soil, killing a colony of ants. A sparrow eats their bodies and is poisoned. Somewhere in the Serengeti, a lion devours his rival’s cubs. Then the lion is shot by a poacher and sold to an unloved rich man whose father was an unloved rich man. In five billion years, the Sun will become a bloated giant, boiling the oceans and consuming our pointless cruelties with flames. I wake sweat-drenched and screaming, staring at the visage of a faceless god. “WHAT HAVE I DONE?! HOW COULD I BRING A CHILD INTO THIS WORLD!?” But this god, like all gods, is nothing—just my son’s Wilson baseball mitt, sitting on my dresser, mocking me.

Will February March? No, but April May! Soon we become ash, and time forgets us.

Source: https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/nihilist-dad-jokes

My girlfriend and I were walking out of a fast food place after eating, on the way back to our car I was walking along a curb with my arms out like a tightrope walker. She looked at me and said "must have been a well balanced meal."

I think she's the one.

Ryan: Are you Finnished yet?

Dave: No, but you bet I’m Russian to fix it! Israelly confusing. Kenya help me out?

R: Sure.

Car makes weird sound

R: Guatemala with the car?

D: I’m Czeching it out, and it seems like something’s wrong with a piston or two. You got any ideas, because Iran out. What a Spain. Oh well, let’s put some elbow Greece and try to finish it by tonight.

R: I hope so. Damn, tonight is a Chile one.

D: Yep, and it’s definitely China distract me.

R: I’m kinda Hungary, I want Togo buy a sandwich or two.

Later

R: Oman, it’s already 9 Pm, there’s Norway that we can fix it by tonight.

D: That’s what we are Guinea find out.

R: I will Taiwan more way to speed things up, but it’s pretty risky.

D: Well, we somehow Ghana find out. 10:30 Pm

R: Ok, Tur the Key!

Car turns on

D: Yes! The Caribb is ean! Uganda be kidding me! I can’t Bolivia did it!

R: Hey, I can’t Belize it either!

That way when she's about to unwrap her gift I can say, "Watch out that one has coals(Kohls)".

Told my wife this one his morning. She was not amused....

Me: Did you hear about the guy that died at Proctor and Gamble?

Her: No, what happened?

Me: Yeah he was at the lotion storage tanks I guess and he fell in and drowned because they couldn’t get him out.

Her: That sounds awful, what a terrible way to die.

Me: Yeah I guess what they say is true about this all.

Her: What?

Me: A body in lotion tends to stay in lotion

Her: ................. I’m serving you papers after that.......

A friend called as I was walking out the door this morning and said she found out yesterday afternoon that she has breast cancer. She knows when I leave and timed it that way because she couldn't handle a long conversation. Bread dipped in Karo is her big comfort food, so I am wanting to pick some up with a loaf of bread and leave it along with a note by her door. I want the note to be happy/upbeat and figured what's better than a one line pun. Problem is, I am stuck. (see what I did there?)

My dad is really proud of this one. It's the only joke he's ever told that's been funny enough to make somebody laugh so hard that they spit out of their nose. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for this joke, so let me give you some context first:

He's been in a motorcycle accident (hit and run by an illegal immigrant), and had to have most of his vertebrae fused. They use titanium rods to hold your back from bending, so as you can imagine its kind of a major operation. His doctor prescribed a year (or longer if needed) of massage therapy, which he was thankful for. Twice a week he went in to a small clinic for a few hours at a time, and usually had the same masseuse. Let's call her Marge.

After four months of therapy they of course got to know each other very well. He was always faithful to my mother, but he was good friends with Marge. Their conversations range all the way from baseball to differentials, and everything stays platonic.

Here's where the story begins:

During a massage, they are having an energetic conversation, the time comes where he turns onto his back so that she can get to his knee ligaments (chainsawed his kneecap a few years prior, doc said may as well get there too). She goes at it like normal, and the conversation continues. Now here comes the part that made my dad wait to tell me this until recently: The "stimulation" in his knee for some reason, on that day out of all others, triggered a reflexive erection. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

The conversation goes quiet. Marge notices, but doesn't say a word. She remains professional. She continues working. My dad is more embarrassed than he's ever been. Several minutes of silence pass, and my dad cant take it anymore.

"Marge," he says, "I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room."

He raises his head to look down the table at her. He glances at it, then back to her. With a slight shake of his head he says:

"Wait nevermind, it's only his trunk"

Walking out of a hardware store with my friend he sees a new Coke brand refrigerator. He says,

"My dad tried to get one like that but he couldn't find one. They don't sell them to just anyone"

I immediately responded,

"Yeah you've gotta be a coke dealer"

Laughing ensued on my part all the way home while he just looked at me like I betrayed him. I'm assuming that means it was a perfect dad joke.

I live in South Carolina, sort of near the coast, and Hurricane Florence is headed this way. My two youngest children--total cowards--were helping me clear out all of the storm drains and curb gutters on our street to help the expected 10-20 inches of rain drain as best they can. Any time any insect flies past them, they scream bee and run away screaming. I'm talking like they're afraid of butterflies. My youngest says that Winter is her favorite season because all the bees are dead.

So, we finish up, and I go inside ahead of them, making them put the shovels away, and I hear, from inside, them running and crying/shrieking across the front porch and inside the house.

My youngest, amidst her sobs, says, "It was as big as a baseball" and holds the one I keep on my desk up for comparison.

I think make the B sign in ASL with both of my hands, stand up and say "BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ" at them while they run away in fear, and when the middle child says, "THAT'S NOT FUNNY" I keep moving towards them with my B hands while saying, "DO YOU WANT ME TO JUST LET YOU BEE? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

I'm a great dad.

Hi Folks, If you are a linguist then I am selling your dream car! I’m selling an Accent, a 2004 Hyundai Accent to be precise. Even if you don’t know a bunch of languages, this car is still great for you.

Just like me, it’s been around the birthday block a few times, but there’s still lots of life left in both of us, I guarantee! If you are looking for the perfect body, seek out a surgeon. If you’re looking for a car that will love you just the way you are, this is it. Now I know what you’re thinking, “I bet this is a junker”, but you’d be wrong. Next to my wife this is the best body I’ve ever had my hands on.

What’s wrong with it mechanically you ask? Nothing! It drives great, A/C & heat still work like a dream, breaks work, transmission shifts good, and the 1.6L engine runs great. With its age, the engine has had some parts replaced. All the belts have recently been changed, that happens with age as I just went up a few sizes myself. The washer fluid pump has been changed because it’s important to be able to have a good cry once in a while. I did an oil change in the summer and depending on how long it takes for this car to finds it’s new match, I will do another in the next month or so.

Since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I’ll give you a run down of what the interior is like. It’s what’s on the inside that matters anyway right? I am the 3rd owner of this car and the previous owner was a smoker. I don’t believe there is a cigarette smell anymore but the cloth seats do have little holes in them. I mean hey, when you play with fire you get burnt right? The stereo head unit has been replaced with a modern Pioneer as the original just wasn’t in tune with my musical needs as a Dj. The only real problem this pretty young thing has is the passenger rear seatbelt does not retract. Since I have two mini controllers I taxi around, I’ve had car seats in the back and have had no reason to replace the seatbelt yet. A new one is only a cool $250 from Hyundai but will take some time for delivery. There are still 4 working seatbelts in the car so if you’re traveling with another couple, I’m sure they’ll love to cuddle up in the middle and behind you, the driver.

The trunk is spacious enough for the average trunk but just doesn’t work out so well for hauling Dj gear. The rear seats fold as easy a poker player having their bluff called, so it will give you extra room. Not much more that I can think of to tell you about but take a look at the plethora of p