Triple metre Puns

Everyone has heard Dave Brubeck's Blue Rondo, some know Milcho Leviev's works (he's a pivotal pianist in Bulgarian and world jazz), but are there any other examples of Triple metre rhythm in jazz music?

The Death of Owen Hart.

Introduction and Context

Most wrestling fans know the name “Hart.” The name is synonymous with one of the greatest wrestling families of all time, a Canadian dynasty with an influence that is still felt across the business today. Stu Hart, trained wrestlers in his Hart Dungeon, and his alumni list is considerable. Andre the Giant, Edge, Chris Jericho, the British Bulldog, Brian Pilman, and dozens more wrestlers passed through the Dungeon on their way to stardom. However, Stu also involved his own children in the business, and his 8th and 12th-born sons, Bret and Owen, are the best examples of that.

Bret “The Hitman,” Hart is a wrestling legend. Generally regarded as one of the greatest technical wrestlers and storytellers of all time, as shown by his nickname “The Excellence of Execution,” his storied career in the World Wrestling Federation (WWF, now WWE) alone, saw him become a two-time Tag Team Champion, two-time King of the Ring winner, and five-time World Champion, amongst other accolades.

His younger brother Owen Hart did not achieve the success. He never had a “defined,” character like Bret, shifting through different characters at varying points in his career. Although he had numerous title runs, specifically the Intercontinental and Tag Team championships, there was a definite perception that Owen was the “lesser,” of the Hart brothers.

It’s important to highlight that Owen was just as good a wrestler as Bret. In fact, there’s considerable debate as to which brother was “better,” at technical wrestling, but the key point is that they were both extremely talented. Their matches against each other are definitely watch a watch.

Over The Edge 1999

May 23rd, Kansas City Missouri. The WWF was hosting a Pay-Per-View show titled Over The Edge and Owen Hart was scheduled to challenge The Godfather for the WWF Intercontinental Championship for the third match on the show.

At the time, Hart was wrestling as a character called the Blue Blazer, a superhero-like comedic character, which fit well with Owen’s skill for acrobatic moves. As part of the show, the decision was taken for the Blazer to descend to the ring from the rafters in a harness, giving the appearance that the Blazer was “flying.”

This stunt had been done once before with a full safety harness, but this had allegedly taken too long to remove and made for “bad television.” Therefore, at Over The Edge, the decision w

Hello all, Ted from Maintenance again. I get asked a lot of questions by miners out here on Hoxxes, questions like "can we bring a barrel with us when we go mining?", "can we bring the jukebox with us?", "Where's my beer?", "What's this button do?" and "what are we mining, anyway?"

The answer to these questions are:

No.

No.

In your other hand.

DON'T TOUCH THAT!

and... huh. I actually don't know. I know what they're called, obviously, but names aren't meaningful on their own. "Gold" by any other name would still be a soft, shiny metal that conducts electricity well and doesn't tarnish. Really, that is what gold is - it's function. We like gold because it's mostly used as currency, and what isn't currency is bling, and what isn't currency or bling is horded by R&D as an electrical conductor.

So what about the rest? What exactly are you digging up down there? I don't know for sure, but I have a few theories, and if I'm right you all might not be so comfortable standing around the guy with the flamethrower anymore.

I am pretty sure that what you're digging up is gunpowder and rocket fuel.

Let's go with Nitra first. What do you guys do with Nitra? You call down resupply. I've ranted about this before, but I'll say it again because I've seen the levels on the Blackout Stout tank and I doubt you remember your own names, let alone my last message. Armoury has a union, and that union says "we don't work for free". They don't clear the supply pod unless the team's stockpile has sufficient Nitra to compensate them. I'm pretty sure they get all the surplus you bring back as well. I know I'm not the first guy to suggest that, but I just wanted to start with it.

Now Morkite? Like I said, I think that's rocket fuel. Departments are damn tight-lipped about what they do with all that stuff, so this is just my own thoughts. Mostly, I came to this conclusion because of your on-site refining missions. You're after "liquid Morkite", right? And how do you find it? You look for where the stuff blew a vent hole into the cave network. Just follow the friendly flame!

That should be a red flag right there. You are being asked to extract something that is belching fire, so this liquid Morkite is not only flammable, it's actually ...

... I'm going that shudder was every single Digger on the platform launching to find some liquid Morkite deposits. I am not looking forward to explaining this one to Mission Control later.

Anyway, for the rest of you, the fact it

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---Veterans---

The Triple Ms, Shings and I stand in an open town square, nearby Bahari ya Kaskazini.

Terran security being what it is, Dr Zunberi wouldn’t have been able to collect us from there, so this is the agreed meeting place.

I look around at the others, all dressed in a fashion they call ‘smart-casual’… aptly named!

I can imagine them socializing at a gala or relaxing in their Commonroom in these clothes.

Even the Shings have emulated the style.

It almost makes me wish that R’qali wore clothes!

I’m sure that any outfit I attempted to fabricate to match this style would look ridiculous; for the combination of clothes already looking extremely unnatural on my species and the fact that I’m sure my mind wouldn’t be able to reproduce the subtle nuances of it, the way theirs effortlessly seem to!

I have to settle for having a slightly nicer sash for my welfare devices.

For a [nanosecond] earlier, I considered digging out my old medals to pin onto it but… well, Msia has told me that the one whose house we’re visiting is a veteran of the opposite side of the same conflict… it would probably be in poor taste!

Plus, all of my medals amount to ‘congratulations for not dying’… not really anything to be proud of!

I also believe that displaying medals might not be conducive to the ‘casual’ part of ‘smart-casual’.

Just then, a clear tube with an ornamental conical nose, ornamental swept wings and a single occupant sweeps, near silently, over the square before dropping to touchdown in front of the group.

Nkasiogi Zunberi throws open the access door, smiles and says “Get in, nerds! We’re going to dinner!

Paywallled but here's the article...Safer roads: How cable barriers have cut deaths on NZ highways

The key quotes:

>Waka Kotahi calls the system "a cost-effective infrastructure treatment that can reduce the number of people killed or seriously injured in crashes by 75 per cent". This number refers to open-road crashes and is based on multiple studies overseas, including some in Australia.

and

>Consider this. There are 10,000 km of roads in New Zealand identified as having "the highest concentrations of deaths and serious injuries". They're rated medium or high risk.

>But under the National Land Transport Plan, Waka Kotahi will build only 1000 km of cable barriers on those roads, and even that will take 10 years.

>The barriers cost about $150 per metre to install. All up: $150 million.

The article also talks about (a) how they work and (b) how they're not cheesegraters for motorcyclists.

And for context...

• Transmission Gully... BCR of 0.6 for an at the time cost of $1.025 billion (2010), despite the delays the final cost seems to be $1.25 billion
• Mill Road... costed at $1.3 billion originally, cancelled at $3.5 billion! Its original BCR was allegedly 2.2 but since most of the benefits were in travel time savings that number is obviously complete bullshit (and totally irrelevant given the tripling in cost). (Somehow, in 2017, ATAP had an increased BCR.)
• Holiday Highway... apparently costs $710 million but that's for only part of it, if you adjust the 2008 figure of $1.3 billion to now, you get $1.66 billion. [The BCR for this rests on Wider Economic Benefits so is probably bullshit and in the only source I could find lists BCRs from 0.8-2.0.](https://www.greaterauc

Danny's parents told him never to go into the basement.

I was over at his place the first time he tried to open that thick, dark oak door. I remember (we were seven at the time, I think) him flashing me that cheeky, lopsided smile, before standing on his tip toes and straining for the handle. I remember his dad snatching him away a second later, and slamming him back down next to me with a force that brought tears into Danny's eyes. Mr Johnson was a very big man, and, although I'd known him all my life, he had always been a slight source of fear for me. As I grew older, this infantile nervousness around him subsided a little, but he always made me wary.

Mr Johnson knelt, gripping Danny's shoulders. His face was red with anger, but he also looked shaken; I noticed he was trembling almost as much as his son.

'Listen to me, Danny,'

His voice cut like a knife.

'You never, ever, open that door. Do you understand me? Never. I've told you before and I'll tell you again. Under no circumstances do you go in there.'.

Then he bundled his snivelling son into a tight hug, before inviting us to come watch cartoons.

Afterwards, I had asked Danny what was behind the door. He had told me, in a round about way, that it was his basement; he seemed only half interested in the conversation, always distracted by the tinkle of an ice cream truck or an interesting stick. Danny's zealous imagination could take anything innocuous, anything everyday, and turn it into something extraordinary; sometimes, I thought he could actually see the things he dreamed up.

Danny and I had always been friends; we were never really given a choice in the matter. Our families neighboured each other directly, and our parents had known each other since college; they just heaped the infant Danny and I together and waited for a bond to grow.

And there was a bond; in the simplest sense, we were best friends. We were always together; in the same class at school, in the same scout group; we even ducked into and out of each others houses like they were connected. For me, there didn't exist a life where Danny wasn't there to get me into trouble, or to get me out of it.

Of course, we had our differences; I was always the quiet one, good in school, rarely to be found without my nose in a book. Indeed, if it hadn't been for the influence of the popular and gregarious Danny, I might well have been subject to harsh teasing throughout my education.

That was how our unspoken trade-off played out; Danny

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---Disclaimer: This chapter contains fictionalised depictions of bigotry, violence, cannibalism and reference to slave trading. Please read no further if you feel any of those things would upset you.---

---Revanchism---

---Victor’s Perspective---

“Pick it up!” I say incredulously at Mouse, who’s just dropped her dead firearm on the ground in front of her.

“Don’t separate yourself from your firearm just because it’s useless currently! Pick it up and put it back in the holster I gave you!”

Fuck!

Maybe I should have put her last in succession?!

She’s so smart that I forget how thoroughly bookish her intelligence is!

I holster my shotgun at my back and hear that, ever so satisfying, analogue *click* of it locking into place.

I draw my plasma-falchion. I should have nearly a metre of edge, superheated to thousands of degrees… I click the ignition… what I have is a lump of metal(!)… I test the edge… a sharpish lump of metal(!)

Then I hear a mass of sibilance and gutturals coming from behind me… Fuck! Hassi doesn’t speak English! Of course she doesn’t! She only encountered Terrans weeks ago… even a Human couldn’t learn a language quite that fast! Plus, she’d probably learn Hindi if she were going to learn anything.

We lucked out that everyone else speaks my first language. I know it’s the closest thing to a Terran lingua franca there is but not every Terran speaks it!

“You three!” I say addressing those who aren’t SOs but do speak English “New plan: Find somethin’ you’re happy usin’ as a bludgeon. I think there’re some railing posts in that crate over there. Just get somethin’ you’re happier with than bare hands! When you’re done rearming, I want Mage and Mouse guardin’ Starboard side door and Cookie and Hassi on Port! You’re gonna take anyone that gets past me, Samus and Tuun. Don’t let even one get into the ship!”

Turning to Hassi I try to remember enough Galactic Basic to say “Follow friends find thing for hit. Go Krish after.” while backing it up with Human adapted Galactic Basic Sign Language… she seems to understand…

“Samus! You’re taking point! I want you in the middle of the room, controlling the space with that greatsword! I’ll be backing you up to your right, Tuun will take your left.” Samus draws 150cm of blade from her hip and stands it next to herse

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---Leviathan Power---

I awake to a rainbow of iridescent feathers clouding my vision.

I pull my head out from under Qorak’s wing and hop down from our perch.

“Computer, repeat?” I ask, blearily.

The computer answers in an uncharacteristically urgent tone “I say again, 37 separate messages detailing various disperate descriptions of a, hitherto, undetermined emergency have been logged within the last [66 minutes]. All attempts to identify the source and nature of the emergency and resolve it, without crew intervention, have failed. Most appropriate course of action determined to be: raise the Captain and advise her to gather Security Officers and the Engineering Lead to seek out the source and nature of the emergency and attempt to resolve it.”

My stomach drops.

I turn to Qorak, his face a mask of dread and his beautiful plumage wilting too, momentarily seeming almost as drab as my coat of matte grey, white and black.

I run to him and throw my wings around him and in as soothing a voice as I can manage, while conveying the urgency, I say “Seal the door when I’m gone, do not open it under any circumstances for anyone but me, even if I’m taken hostage and they threaten to kill me, that door stays shut. Do you understand me?”

Stammering, he says “B-but-I-you-but-if-th-they…”

I snap “Do you UNDERSTAND ME?!”

He slumps “Yes, my okla…”

I tenderly tap the side of my beak against his and, looking down into his eyes, I say “Thank you, sweetfruit…”

As I leave he calls out, desperately “Come back to me, Tcakqaal… don’t allow our daughter to grow up never having met her mother!”

Without turning I answer “I don’t intend to!”

---some [minutes] later---

*plap* *plap* *plap* *plap**plap**plap* *plap* *plap* *plap* *plap**plap**plap*

“So, what do the reports say?” asks Engineering Lead Kwijj, against the steady pitterpatter of her twelve, gel coated manipular-perambulatory tentacles on the Bridge Deck Corridor.

Jogging beside her, I answer “The…*huff*…common theme is that…*huff*…they describe being… *gah*…woken by…*huff**huff*…a ‘terrifying noise’…could you slow down?!”

Her single eye wheels down to mine without her forward momentum breaking. “I’m sorry, Captain. It really sounds like we don’t have time! None of the Triple Ms responded to c

HoH, Demon’s Land Chapter 1: A long way!

A Non-Canon FanFiction side story for the Hunter or Huntress story by u/Tigra21

When the ancient past, and present collide, nightmare becomes reality and normality becomes a divine blessing.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 1: A long way

‘Another day and another call about an idiot poaching kangaroos on sacred lands. This day just got worse,’ thought the young ranger, Jobunji, as he put down the phone and saved the native wildlife population reports he was working on for DAWE (Department of Agriculture, Water, & Environment). He let out a sigh before standing up and grabbing the keys to the company’s Hilux, just hoping that this wasn’t going to be a waste of time.

Over the roughly three hour drive to the site of the call, Jobunji mused about finally moving away from his little hometown of Mintabie and getting a less chaotic job. He had saved enough from his paychecks over the last eight years to buy a decent little apartment in the outskirts of Adelaide, near where his cousin lived and worked.

A sudden jolt, from driving over a large rock, snapped his full attention back to the barely maintained bushtrack he was driving on and the matter at hand. The remaining drive was mostly uneventful, save for a small flock of emus engaging in a rather hilarious threat display as the toyota hilux drove past them.

The sight did make Jobunji chuckle a bit at the thought of the Australian army losing a ‘War’ to such ridiculous creatures back in the day, it almost made the trip worth the effort. Almost.

Arriving at the Jindamine cattle station Jobunji was quickly greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Smith, who had placed the call about the poacher. “Took you long enough to get here. You young people have no sense of urgency anymore.” grumbled the old and greying stockman.

“Ease up on the boy, you old bull. It’s a long drive and I’m sure he came as quickly as was safe to do so.” the old man’s wife chided. “Would you like a coffee while we go over the details deary?” she added after scowling at her husband.

After a brief moment of looking at the rather grouchy old man, Jobunji responded with a slightly forced smile “Thank you for the offer, but the sooner I get this business sorted out the better. Maybe next time.”. Which earned him a huff of indignant appro

I guess the concept didn't work

I don't want to step on anybody's toes here, but the amount of non-dad jokes here in this subreddit really annoys me. First of all, dad jokes CAN be NSFW, it clearly says so in the sub rules. Secondly, it doesn't automatically make it a dad joke if it's from a conversation between you and your child. Most importantly, the jokes that your CHILDREN tell YOU are not dad jokes. The point of a dad joke is that it's so cheesy only a dad who's trying to be funny would make such a joke. That's it. They are stupid plays on words, lame puns and so on. There has to be a clever pun or wordplay for it to be considered a dad joke.

Again, to all the fellow dads, I apologise if I'm sounding too harsh. But I just needed to get it off my chest.

Credit for the Universe of Between words goes to u/BlueFishcake. I'm just playing with their toys.

Any criticism, commentary and spelling fixes are always appreciated.

Hope you enjoy.

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Aaron took a steadying breath as he aimed his rifle down the corridor, the bodies of the Rakiri strewn around his team as they secured the hallway. He stopped for a moment, glancing at the carnage around him. His eyes lingered over blood splattered walls and the viscera laden floor. There was more gore than normal for CQC engagements. But that was expected. Explosive rounds were highly effective against flexifibre, but hardly made for clean kills.

“Clear.”

“Clear.”

“Clear.”

“Clear. Nothing on the Map.”

“No alarms,” Aaron stated. “Still think we’re under wraps or have we given ourselves away?”

“I’d have to check the cameras before we can say anything for certain, but I'm under the impression that it's safer to assume we have,” Sparks said, exchanging a nearly empty magazine for a fresh one. “Ready.”

“Ready,” parroted Flicker and Rook.

“Good, next set of hostiles?”

“A trio up ahead. Guarding a foyer to a set of black rooms. Probably the HVT,” Rook responded.

“Alright, let's get this op finished. Flicker still want point?”

“Sure,” she shrugged.

“Epsilon, Moving out.”

The fireteam continued through the hallways of the upper deck. They passed a bathroom they were forced to clear, no cameras meant someone could be lurking in the shitter to surprise them later. They stalked towards the barracks, finding it empty. Spare equipment and personal effects were strewn around. A tooth necklace resting on a bench, a jacket stitched with alien writing hanging up in one of the open lockers, a beaten omni pad laying on the floor amongst a dozen other things.

“We’ll do an inventory on it when we’re done,” said Ace, getting a round of nods as they closed in on their target.

After another half minute of walking they came upon a set of doors with a brass plaque mounted at its side labelled ‘executive suite.’

“Form up, standard breach,” Ace said as they approached. “Rook, Cams.”

“Aye,” she replied, pulling out an omnipad.

The screen of her he

Name : > Hilda Felforgerr

<>

Race : > Harpy (Royal specie)

<>

Sex : > Female

<>

Age : > 105 years old.

<>

#Level : 1 > Quests done : 0

• Level 2, 4 quests done.
• Level 3, 10 quests done.
• Level 4, 18 quests done.
• Level 5, 28 quests done.
• Level 6, 40 quests done.

<>

Role : > ADC

<>

Occupation : > Cafe waitress.

<>

#Racial :

Kings (and Queens) of All Harpies :

Hilda is a Royal Harpy, a rare specie which was known to traveled at speed beyond lights but even so, she is still a humanoid avian...

> - Hilda has 60% HP instead of having 100% HP. > - Whilst at flight, Hilda gains +2 modifiers for Dexterity until she landed back on earth.

<>

• Great Expansion of Wings :

Hilda extends her wing whilst flying, expanding up to 4 metres at most.

<>

• A Feathered Beauty :

Hilda has permanent +4 on Charisma rolls, may even be doubled if the ones she's chattering with is a bard...

<>

#Flaws/Weaknesses (-5) :

• Avian :

Hilda is technically an avian— a feathered creature, which also means that her true enemy is, and may even always be, water or getting wet...

> - Aqua-based abilities and attacks shall deal ×2 more damage, and may even weakens Hilda.

(-1)

<>

• Wings for Arms :

Though having godspeed movements at her disposal, this extreme speed comes with a price and that is, not having arms— not having fingers for utility uses...

> - Hilda may never use any sort of item that needs to be held. > - Hilda cannot, and will not, be able to casts spell unless said magic only uses incantation.

(-4)

<>

#Core Abilities (19/19) :

• Grand Wings :

(Passive)

Hilda takes flight, gaining speed and accelerates beyond yonder...

> - When Hilda was attacked, grant her (1) modifiers on evasion rolls for this turn and forth— if gained modifiers reached 10, attackers' attacks must be at disadvantage. > - While Hilda is at flight, she accelerates, (Dex. Mod×Eva. Mod=%) that amount will be the base total for all other abilities. > - As she accelerates faster and further, all bracketed numbers shall be increased by 1 per 5% of acceleration— needed added numbers shall be added at the start of her turn or when an ability is used.

(4)

~

• Beyond All Skies! :

(Active)

Hilda accelerates faster, so fast that air streaks off of her wings as she does...

January 25 Juche 111 (2022) “Uriminzokkiri”

The Township Cooperative Farm in Kangdong County, Pyongyang, is scoring successes in the production of greenhouse vegetables. The farm has several blocks of heat storage wall-type, threefold vinyl sheet greenhouses covering an area of over 1 000 square metres, which produce garlic, coriander, bok choy, cucumber, tomato, lettuce, crown daisy, celery and other vegetables by stages every year. It established a food production cycle and manages the manuring and cultivation of vegetables according their vegetative stage as required by the technical regulations, including thinning of seeds and applying of additional fertilizers, thus producing vegetables in all seasons. It applies various growth stimulants in keeping with its actual conditions, and puts selection of species, growing of young plants and management of soil and environment on a scientific and technical footing so as to increase the output per area. It produces over 60 tons of cabbage per hectare, and a head of cabbage weighs 1.8 to 3 kilograms. It introduces triple to quintuple farming through intercropping and double cultivation. The vegetable output in greenhouses is on the increase every year. Last year, the farm produced one thousand and hundreds of tons of various vegetables and supplied them to the Pyongyang citizens.

Alot of great jokes get posted here! However just because you have a joke, doesn't mean it's a dad joke.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT NSFW, THIS IS ABOUT LONG JOKES, BLONDE JOKES, SEXUAL JOKES, KNOCK KNOCK JOKES, POLITICAL JOKES, ETC BEING POSTED IN A DAD JOKE SUB

Try telling these sexual jokes that get posted here, to your kid and see how your spouse likes it.. if that goes well, Try telling one of your friends kid about your sex life being like Coca cola, first it was normal, than light and now zero , and see if the parents are OK with you telling their kid the "dad joke"

I'm not even referencing the NSFW, I'm saying Dad jokes are corny, and sometimes painful, not sexual

So check out r/jokes for all types of jokes

r/unclejokes for dirty jokes

r/3amjokes for real weird and alot of OC

r/cleandadjokes If your really sick of seeing not dad jokes in r/dadjokes

Punchline !

Edit: this is not a post about NSFW , This is about jokes, knock knock jokes, blonde jokes, political jokes etc being posted in a dad joke sub

Edit 2: don't touch the thermostat

Do your worst!

How the hell am I suppose to know when it’s raining in Sweden?

Mathematical puns makes me number

Hello everyone. This was the other thing I wanted out before Chapter 24. Hope you all enjoy, there's one particular scene in here that I know some people will really enjoy.

Manufacturing Facility 34C, Scijnfax

The guard patrolled, up and down each row of machines. It took him 30 minutes to get through the entire factory, and then he would start again. Klep-1113 knew that well, because every single time, the guard would pass Klep-1113, and he would see that Klep-1113 had done less work than the expected performance standard, and he would taunt him. Either the guard would berate him, or if he was feeling particularly vicious that day, he would prod Klep-1113 with the stun baton, at low power.

It wasn’t Klep-1113’s fault, really. The standards were unrealistic, intentionally so. He, like so many of his species, had been ordered to work for the glory of the Hekatian Stellar Imperium, checking the products of it’s automated factories. That was what he had been born to do, in the confines of the factory.

He didn’t even know the name of his species, maybe it was Klep. There were whispers in the night, someone in the bunkhouse telling a story that had been passed down through the generations of factory workers. Of a time when their species lived in freedom, on their own home planet. When there weren’t strict calorie allowances, and one of his kind could go out and bask, their scales glittering in the light from the planet’s sun. Claims of a beautiful tail that hadn’t been cut off at birth, and a name that wasn’t assigned by a machine and tattooed onto their chests. But Klep-1113 didn’t believe them. He was born for the factories, lived for the factories, and would die for them, no matter how much he hated it, there was just no other way. Klep-1113 would stand there, for hours every day, pulling every product out, checking it was correctly made, and then transfer it to the conveyor belt, where it would be taken away and shipped to the intended customer. Right now, the shipment looked to be a large quantity of plasma pistols.

The guard was still coming back around. He was a Hekatian, probably, underneath all that armour. Klep-1113 didn’t know what a Hekatian looked like, he’d never seen anything outside of the factory. For all he knew, the guards were another species from the Hekatians. Or was a Hekatian a concept, like an Imperium? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t supposed to ask.

“You are 27% under quota.” The guard’s voice broke Klep-1113 out of hi

Ants don’t even have the concept fathers, let alone a good dad joke. Keep r/ants out of my r/dadjokes.

But no, seriously. I understand rule 7 is great to have intelligent discussion, but sometimes it feels like 1 in 10 posts here is someone getting upset about the jokes on this sub. Let the mods deal with it, they regulate the sub.

They were cooked in Greece.

I'm surprised it hasn't decade.

He lost May

Now that I listen to albums, I hardly ever leave the house.

Don't you know a good pun is its own reword?