Take Heart Puns

Once upon a time in the 80’s, the religious supreme ruler of a middle eastern country fled outside military forces seeking to strip him of his power using whatever means necessary. Fearing for his life, he was secretly smuggled into the US where he reluctantly shaved his beard and attempted to blend in.

He successfully went native and got an apartment, and soon realized he needed a job to pay for food and rent. He didn't want to do any sort of manual labor or serve others, as he craved comfortable control. He eventually became a toll booth operator, where he enjoyed sitting in his high chair, making people pay him so that he would grant them passage. Over time he grew bold and began to use his own judgment on what vehicles would pay him for his blessing to cross.

One day, two semi-tractor trailer beverage trucks were in his line, a Pepsi truck in front, and a Coke truck behind. The Pepsi truck pulled up and he said "Pepsi truck, you may pass for free." The Pepsi truck driver happily accepted, and over his CB radio told the Coke truck driver “This guy just let me through for free!”. When the Coke truck pulled up, hoping to also pass for free, the toll booth dictator said "Coke truck, you will pay me 100 of your American dollars."

The Coke truck driver was livid, and said "You let that Pepsi truck pass for free! You want me to pay 100 dollars?! That’s outrageous! I am going to report this! What is your name?!" Our toll booth operator proudly replied "Ayatollah Cokemainly."

I really want to have a daughter and name her Zelda.

I imagine, as she gets older she will spend all her time writing sick poetry and rhymes in her journal, growing her hair down to her back, not to spite me, but so she can donate it later, and expand her wit by studying improv comedy through highschool.

As she becomes famous, I hope she will invite me to one of her rap battles and put me in the front row. My heart will grow as she takes the stage, but fatherly intuition tells me something is wrong...Zelda is frozen at the microphone.

I see her up on the stage, eyes alight with fright, hair pulled tight into a bun. She and I lock eyes, a moment of silence passes and serenity slowly enters...THIS is the moment we have been waiting for all our lives.

Looking up calmly, I couldn't be more proud as I exclaim, "Rap puns, Zel. Rap puns, Zel! Let down your hair!"

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

... he picked it up carefully with his trunk and peered at the little window with a racing heart...

Positive! ... Brenda was pregnant!

OMG... fear, excitement, shock... and yet more worrying "why hasn't she told me?"

A hundred scenarios raced through his head, his ears trembling, his trunk twitching as each played out...

Finally he calmed... maybe she was waiting for the right moment to tell him the news?

He chose to be patient... he watched her carefully the whole day, carefully avoiding anything that might show that he knew... but Bethany gave no hints whatsoever.

Several days went by, and he grew more and more anxious.

Finally, he could take it no longer...

"Bethany..." he said

"It's time we discussed the elephant in the womb".

If you can take a punch to the face, you can take a punch to the heart.

You take a heart of romaine and add 23 knives!

Why couldn’t the witch have children? Her husband had a hallow weenie.

Which ghost is the best dancer? The Boogie Man!

Friend: What are you gonna be for halloween? Me: Drunk!

For Halloween I’m going to write “Life” on a plain white T-shirt and hand out lemons to strangers

This Halloween, the only Candy I’m interersted in swings from a pole and has daddy issues

“Halloween” = an excuse for girls to dress up like sluts.

Thank goodness for Halloween, all of a sudden, cobwebs in my house are decorations!

I’ll be your trick if you’ll be my treat.

How do Rednecks celebrate Halloween? Pump kin!

When do ghouls and goblins cook their victims? On Fry Day

What’s a monsters favorite desert? I-Scream!

What do you call a Halloween boner? Petrified wood

What do you call a dancing ghost? Polka-haunt-us

What do you call a hot dog with nothing inside it? A “hollow-weenie!”

Did you hear about the wild party at the haunted house? The whole vibe was anything ghost (goes).

How do you write a book about halloween? With a ghostwriter.

I’m going to celebrate Halloween the same way I always do… by murdering a bunch of teens by the lake. Sincerely,

Two monsters went to a Halloween party. Suddenly one said to the other, “A lady just rolled her eyes at me. What should I do?” The other monster replied, “Be a gentleman and roll them back to her.

The lesson of Halloween is that pretending to be something you’re not will lead to a sweet reward.

I remember when Halloween was the scariest night of the year. Now, it’s Election night.

I want to be something really scary for Halloween this year so I’m dressing up as a phone battery at 2%.

Why dident the skeleten go to the halloween party? Becuse he had no body to go with.

What did the bird say on Halloween? Trick or tweet!

What do Italian’s eat on Halloween? Fettucinni Afraid-o (Ha ha ha)

Why can’t the boy ghost have babies? A. Because he has a Hallo-weenie.

What do goblins and ghosts drink when they’re hot and thirsty on Halloween? A. Ghoul-aid!!!

What do ghosts eat for supper? Spooketi

What do you do when 50 zombies surround your house? Hope it’s Halloween!!

What is the most important subject a witch learns in school? Spelling.

EDIT: I somehow JUST saw the Mod Sticky post from last week, where a lot of users have expressed similar sentiments to these. I apologize to the mods if this is not appropriate and respect your decision if you want to delete it. I just wanted to see if people were thinking the same kind of thing. Still, read it if ya like.

It used to be that /r/dadjokes was a place to post actual stories of real dad humor. 'My dad pulled out this groaner at dinner.' 'Just became a dad...I think I get it now!' These are the things that warm my heart and tickle my corny bone. And I don't think I'm alone.

Now, we're arrogant enough to think we know the formula for dad humor, so we can post anything reminiscent of it, and it counts as a dad joke. It's as if we think we own dad humor now, and we can bend it and shape it at will.

Let me tell you, folks. WE DO NOT OWN DAD HUMOR.

Even the dads among us don't own it. I think the universe just channels it through them in brilliant, glorious, involuntary sneezes. Some are more deft than others, and are seen by the universe as more worthy outlets. But they do not own it.

We can get close to elusive heart of dad humor, we can approach it, we can dance around it...but we can never touch it. This is where I take issue with posts like this one, which currently has over 4000 upvotes and 2000 net karma. Is it reminiscent of dad-like punly-ness? Would a dad chortle heartily at reading it? Yes, almost certainly yes. But does that make it a dad joke? No...I would argue not.

Dad jokes are also not just about the jokes themselves. They're about the response--that he manages to be surprised at his own genius, even on the eightieth repetition. They're about the face-palms and straight stares of family members. What is a dad joke without context?

My proposed solution: ban link/image posts. I wish it wouldn't have to come to that, but I can't see another way to get back on track to the real goal here. I have hover zoom--I understand the desire for instant gratification. I've skipped over interesting looking videos because they required a click.

But that's not why I come here.

I understand that there are legitimate dad jokes transmitted via text, or perhaps requiring a bit of visual context. At this point, though, I think they are a necessary sacrifice for a righteous cause. They can always be transcribed into text, or included in a self-post. Maybe it seems a bit extreme, especially in the face

Long post is long:

Her: Remember dad's tomato bushes? Well they're attacking! At least one is leaning across the path trying to get at my window... We had the war of the roses, now its time for the attack of the tomatoes!

Me: I don't remember anything about tomato bushes. From one battle to the next.

Her: Yep! Lookout tomatoes here comes the chutney recipe!

Me: I can just imagine a cucumber campaign. Operation onion would be next, which will fail, causing everyone to cry. Dill Day follows, a great success for the allied gardeners. All too soon though, the kamikaze carrots set in, utterly ruining the radish raid. The mushroom maneuver is employed, saving the troops, allowing them to deal the final blow in the asparagus assault!

Her: Don't forget the pumpkins want to supply ground cover with heavy support...

Me: Ah yes, the pumpkin paratroopers.

Her: Thyme is running out...

Me: Prepare the beetroot bombs!!!

Her: Aim for Potato Garden!

Me: Fire the capsicum! Deploy the celery team!

Her: Bring in the egg plant division to support the capsicum!

Me: This is it boys, life or dirt! I want a passionfruit unit to find us a vantage point, and the strawberry unit to surround them!

Her: We had better bring the lettuce up to date!

Me: The cabbage are under withering fire, we need support from the raspberry division! The potatoes are mashed, so well need to send the zucchini in their place!

Her: The zucchini can't take that heavy fire, they'll be grated. Send spinach for some extra iron. The sweet potatoes are digging in at the ridge.

Me: Prepare the watermelon bomb, we need to finish this! The eggplant were squashed, deploy the broccoli brigade! The beans need to get out of there, or they'll be split!

Her: Cauliflowers are going in to retrieve the beans. How brave to risk their florets!

The corn commandos are deployed, but the artichokes are all out of heart, we need to boost morale.

Me: The leeks are down! They'll be flattened if we don't do something!

Are the spinach still operational?

Her: Too bad the pepper isn't on our side, they're well seasoned troops.

Spinach is a go!
Nothing has touched it...

Me: But wait! We still have the chillies to give them heavy fire!

Her: And the squashes and peas!

Me: The ginger is holding it's ground, but it's being cut down by the pineapple!

The basil should make things interesting, send them to aid the potatoes.

**Her:

I came downstairs from taking a shower. Everything was going great ... Until I looked out in the kitchen and saw my dad sprawled out facedown on the floor. I only saw his bottom half, and I was too afraid to look through the doorway and see what the hell happened. I instantly freaked out and started yelling. I don't even remember what I said, but it was something like "What's going on?!?" or "What happened here?!?!" I don't even know what was going on in my head. I thought he passed out or had a heart attack or something. My dog was standing over him staring, looking really confused.

I pulled out my phone and tried to dial my mom, but I was too nervous. Then I realized that was stupid and I should call 911. (Keep in mind I was so panicked/freaked out that I hadn't even seen his face... If he died or something I didn't want to see it. I was terrified.) The whole time I was yelling "What happened??! What's going on?!?!" I dialed the 9, maybe the 1...

And he stands up, laughing. He wanted to see how I would handle the situation. His explanation was he "thought it would be funny to see how I'd act."

I can't unsee it. I honestly thought he collapsed from a heart attack or something. He thought the whole thing was hilarious.

Paul has a shitty life, his wife constantly berates him, his job sucks, his boss is a bully, his car is a shitty 85 ford pinto with a cracked windshield and is in bad need of a new transmission and to top it all off he's chubby, balding, and he has a small penis.

The only thing good in Paul's life is his friend Artie. Artie isn't the brightest bulb in the world, but he's always been there for Paul in the tough times. On October 5, 1953 Artie stood up for Paul against his bully in 7th grade. Artie got his ass handed to him at that time, but so did Paul. That incident resulted in a life long friendship. Paul and Artie went to the same High School together. They traveled around Europe that one summer in college. Artie was Paul's best man at his wedding. Everyone thought speech Artie gave was terrible, But Paul loved it Artie was his best friend.

Artie's life wasn't much better either, he never had the smarts for that great Job. In fact he was stuck in a dead end job as a construction labourer. Artie's car was pretty shitty too. Artie never married, but he was happy in the knowledge that at least he didn't end up with Paul's shitty wife.

For Paul's 46th birthday Artie was pretty broke, so all he could get his friend was a single lottery ticket. Artie being the sentimental guy that he was picked the date of the start of their friendship, and their respective ages (46, 45). Paul loved the present, and thought that the two of them should go to the Legion that friday to split a round of beers and listen to them call out the numbers.

On Friday they are both sitting there at the Legion having a laugh over a couple of beers when the cute lottery girl comes on the t.v. to read out the numbers. Paul pulls out the ticket and spreads it out on the beer stained table in front of them. The lottery girl starts reading out the numbers, 45, 10, 05. Both of Paul and Artie's hearts start beating, thats 200$ already. 53, Holy crap thats like a 10, 000 ticket. They both start losing their shit. 46....... Paul feints. He just won the jackpot. 37million dollars.

Two minutes later Artie finally revives Paul. Paul and Artie celebrate the night away, buy round after round for the people at the Legion and get absolutely shittered. They close out the bar and as the ugly lights come on they stumble blitzed, singing, onto the street arm in arm with the winning lottery ticket in hand and start the long walk back to Paul's place.

Halfway home, Paul comes to two drunken

Sitting waiting to pick up my sister from work and she was saying how my dad is not helping with her stress levels specially now that shed been diagnosed with heart issues. I said to her " maybe you should stop taking it to heart so much" completely unaware of it till she gave me a disapproving look

Recently, Joe has been under the slight suspicion that his wife is cheating on him. So, one day he comes home early from work, to his crap-shoot apartment on the eighth floor, and hears her scurrying around when he enters. Almost as if there's another person in the house. When he calls out her name she hollers back that she just ran into the shower. So he investigates the bedroom and encounters a shocking surprise... a pair of hands dangling from the other side of the window sill! Those of a grown man, hanging on for dear life. Infuriated at the sight of the man who's sleeping with his wife, Joe takes the bedside lamp and starts bashing the guy's fingers until he falls eight stories onto the sidewalk. Only he's still alive, writhing and broken. So Joe hauls the refrigerator from the kitchen out the window, sending it down onto the poor sucker, killing him instantly. Now the hysteria of the moment induces a fatal heart attack and Joe himself, dies. So now, as he's up at the pearly gates, St. Peter is telling all the incoming souls that in order to gain access into heaven, they need to provide a solid account of how they died. After hearing Joe's story, St. Peter allows him in. The next man in line says that he was tanning in the sun, drunk, on the roof of his apartment building when he fell off, only to catch hold of a window sill that could have saved his life, until a crazed bastard beat his fingers and threw a refrigerator onto him. St. peter tells him that he's a shoe-in. And when he asks the next guy in line how he ended up deceased, the guy replies, "...So I'm naked in a refrigerator, right?"

(We are from Montana.)

Montana and North Dakota are in the middle of a war. The NDs have amassed a huge army and are about to march over a hill to invade MT. The commander of the ND army decides to send out a couple of scouts to see if the way is clear. Almost immediately after the two scouts disappear over the top of the hill, loud crashing and rumbling sounds come from the direction they went. After waiting until they are overdue for return, the commander decides to send a squad over to check out what happened. As they pass out of sight, a loud raucous was again heard from the other side of the hill. The commander becomes concerned and decides not to wait for them to return. He sends an entire platoon over the hill, telling them to take out any resistance they meet and return with any survivors. Once again, as the men disappear over the hill, the terrible sounds of war rush over the entire army and then slowly die down until nothing could be heard but the beating of the commanders heart. A proud man, never before defeated in battle, he decides to lead the entire army over the hill himself to destroy the opposition once and for all, but as they begin to march they see a single, mangled, ND soldier pulling himself up over the top of the hill by the only functioning limb of his body. Beaten, bloody and near death, he manages, with help, to make it to the commander and says; "Sir... (cough) Don't go... (spit, cough) It's a trap..."

And in the surprise induced silence he says;

"There's TWO of 'em."