Take This Heart Puns

I'm a son without a father... I lost him a few days ago to a heart attack and I just... can't stop crying

We both used to check out this sub daily for amazing dad jokes and laugh at them together... We'd try to form our own stupid stuff

I used to wake up for college early in the morning I'd cook some breakfast for him get ready and before leaving I'd wake him up and tell him a stupid dad joke... I'd want to see him start his day with a smile

I just want to thank you all in this sub for giving me and my dad happiness your jokes made us laugh at our worst times

Out of habit I keep getting up to go to his room with a dad joke... Only to see it empty

I'm never gonna get to mess around with my dad again... I'm never going to hang out with him again he's not going to be there to see me grow up and buy a house of my own ... He's not going to see me buy a car of own ... He's not going to see me get married... He's gone forever and I will never get to start my day with a smile again from a silly dad joke with him

He wasn't the greatest dad but he certainly was the best I could ever ask for ... I will miss you dad

Thank you r/dadjokes to all the amazing dads here and their funny and stupid jokes

Edit : thank you so much dad's for your overwhelming support I love you guys and I just want to take a moment to thank all the people here who shared their experiences as well of having lost a parent... Your story inspires me to continue forward with the torch

Also I'm seeing quite a few comments saying the post is not funny and that they came for a laugh... I'm truly sorry about that, I just really wanted to honor my dad in this sub since we spent so much time together here scrolling for jokes and I needed the push from you dads to get back on my feet

I'm never going to be the same that's for sure knowing a peice of me has been lost forever... The void will never be filled in my heart But your support is just what I needed, once again thank you dads I love you

Edit 2: thank you so much dads for your overwhelming support I know I haven't been able to respond to all the dms and messages here but I've been reading them all and it's just made me smile in the worst Thank you dads you guys are the best

She says - God bless mommy and god bless daddy and god bless grandma and... goodbye grandpa. He asks her - why did you say that? I don't know, I just felt like saying it. The next day, grandpa drops dead. Wow, thinks dad, that's an odd coincidence. A month later at bedtime, the daughter says - God bless mommy and daddy. And goodbye grandma. Sure enough, the next day grandma breathes her last earthly breath. The dad realizes this is more than a coincidence, but he is not sure what to do. He doesn't want to disturb his wife by telling her (Grandma and grandpa were her parents). Months go by and one night the man is listening to his daughter saying her prayers at bedtime - God bless mommy....she turns her head and looks straight at him - and goodbye daddy. What!? are you sure honey? She nods. The man's heart begins racing and he breaks out in a sweat. He is so upset, he can't sleep at all that night. The next day he goes off to work, but locks himself in his office. He takes the phone off the hook, cancels all his meetings and awaits the inevitable. He stays at work past 5 because he feels secure there. He watches the hours tick by. Finally it is midnight and, drenched in sweat, he realizes he has cheated death. He drives home drenched in sweat and with all his nerves frazzled. His wife is up and waiting for him - Where the hell were you today??! He replies - Don't shout, I've had an absolutely miserable day. His wife then says - You had a miserable day? I'm the one who had a miserable day! First, the milkman drops dead on the steps...

40 yard line box seats. He paid $2,500 each but he didn't realize last year when he bought them it was going to be on the same day as his wedding - probably because of the extra game this year. If you’re interested, he’s looking for someone to take his place...It's at Sacred Heart Catholic church in Los Angeles at 3pm. The bride's name is Nicole, she's 5'4", about 115 lbs, good cook too. She'll be in the white dress.

His best friend, Roy, was known around town for having an adventurous streak that a small town just couldn't satisfy. Roy yearned to travel the world, to rub shoulders with the well-to-do, and to squeeze every drop of excitement he could out of life. While most young folk in town, my grandpa included, were resigned to their lot, Roy was driven by his dream. He worked incredibly hard, taking every hired-hand and handy-man job he could find. He would walk five miles each way to clean a gutter if there was a nickel to be made. His hometown was always spotless, because Roy would pick up every glass bottle he saw to get the deposit back, and every can he found would get turned in for recycling.

The years stretched on. Grandpa settled down with his high school sweetheart in a one-room cottage and had my dad, and not much else. Roy kept hurrying from one job to the next, never spending a dime on a date. Everyone would just roll their eyes and quietly gossip about how poor Roy's obsession was robbing him of a real life.

One day, Roy showed up at Grandpa's house, all decked out in a brand new khaki safari kit, complete with helmet, binoculars, and elephant gun, and announced that he had finally saved up enough for passage to Africa to go big game hunting. He was especially proud of the fine leather boots he was sporting. "Indestructable" he called them, totally impenetrable to water, wind, and snow. No trench-foot for him while he tracked rhinos on the savannah!

Grandpa congratulated Roy on his achievement and wished him bon voyage. Over the next three months, the town felt Roy's absence. Litter lay where it fell, gutters overflowed in heavy rain, small-time farmers rose that bit earlier and bedded that bit later to cover the work Roy used to help with. Of course, the gossipers just turned their chat from how Roy needed a dose of reality to how thoughtless it was of him to just up and leave. Most folks were convinced Roy was gone for good. After all, how could he come back from such a high-falutin' adventure to his tiny, no-account hometown?

But return Roy did, and everyone crowded around at the bar to hear his account of his safari. To their surprise, Roy told them that, for all the time he had been away, he only bagged one trophy that was currently on a slow boat back. It turned out, once Roy got a close-up look at the elephants, rhinos, giraffes, gazelles, and all the fine animals of the African savannah, he lost all heart for hunting. He just couldn't imagi

He asked his supervisor if he can take his cat to space. Supervisor explained how it is very expensive to ensure safety of everyone with a cat and can become dangerous.

Astronaut wished he was rich enough to bear the fee of taking a cat with him.

He thought about this for awhile.

With heavy heart he decided to leave the cat.

He can't afford Cat-Astro-Fee.

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

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!"

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:

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