Any Longer Puns

Just 3 feet and no longer.

W.H.O. Lets the dogs out!

But I guess they are steel around.

Because it's already long enough

They're long enough.

Yep, and they are not makeing them any shorter either.

This is why we can't have Nice things

Confused and upset, I asked why.

The vet advised he was too heavy to hold any longer.

We got to talking and I found out she worked as a stunt double on some pretty big name movie sets. She looked to be at least 10 years my senior but very fit and attractive and we both seemed to really be hitting it off.

Because all the immediate family in the local area had thrown a smaller, more private celebration for my father a few days prior, I didn't really feel a need to stick around any longer, so I asked the woman if she was interested in sharing some drinks with me at the nearby Hilton where I was staying. She happily accepted.

Suddenly, I turned towards the sound of my father's voice cheerfully calling out the name "Andra" (pronounced ON-druh) and my own as he approached. Andra, the woman I had been speaking with, turned towards him, glanced quickly back at me, then looked back again at my father and with a disconcerted look on her face exclaimed, "Oh brother!"

And that's when I realized the double, Aunt Andra.

But I couldn't ignore the red flags any longer.

12” rulers won’t be made any longer.

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

Judge: "I don't understand, what happened?"

Woman: "I work in a pharmacy. I met him when he first came there last week and asked to purchase an X-X-X-X-L condom. That's when I thought, for a happy pleasureful life, I should get him to marry me before any other girls find out and lap him up."

Judge: "ok.... then? "

Woman: "I held my excitement all day thru the wedding, waiting for the night..... so at night when I my curiosity couldn't wait any longer........I found out something."

Judge: "what?"

Woman: "the Bastard has speech disorder.... he STAMMERS!!"

So this surgeon always posts pictures of the masks he wears during his surgery on Instagram. He does this every single time he has a surgery, and his nurses can never understand why. Eventually, he garners a massive following on Instagram. So, he goes into his supervisor's room, and he says, "Hello, it's a pleasure to see you". The supervisor says, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" The surgeon says, "Well, my Instagram business is really taking off. I think it would be better for me to quit being a surgeon and focus on Instagram full time". The supervisor thinks he's a little crazy but decides to let him do what he wants. The former surgeon now goes and buys as many masks as he can to sustain his Instagram account. Eventually, he becomes so wealthy that he is able to buy all these lavish things and not have to worry about economic failure. However, one day, he decides to begin posting pictures of medical needles on his Instagram account instead of masks at about the same time that he gets a horrible sickness that is almost always fatal. Because he posts pictures of masks now, his account begins failing, and even though he tries to save it, he's unable. He no longer has any money to treat the illness and is on his deathbed. His entire family is surrounding him, and his father leans in to hug him. As this happens, the ex-surgeon says in a weak voice, "Dad, where did I go wrong?" The dad, with tears in his eyes, seeing what his son has been reduced to and sadly knowing his dear son's death is imminent says, "You post syringe, you lose subscriber"

Any longer and it's a foot

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

They aren’t going to make them any longer.

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

Did you hear they quit making yard sticks? Yeah their not making them any longer.

They are not going to make them any longer.

Talking about the condition of one of the power saws at work (construction):

Boss: Do you know if that saw is working properly now? Did (coworker) manage to fix it?
Me: Yeah, it's running now, only problem it that it doesn't cut any longer...
Boss: Huh?
Me: Yeah, it only cuts shorter.

The original conversation was not in English, but the pun works in my native language too.

So, I realize this isn't entirely in the spirit of dad jokes, but I think you all will get a groan or three in the end...

Basically, my dad is the epitome of /r/dadjokes. He is a walking talking dadjoke. So, it was quite the shock to our family when we recently found out that he has stage 4 Cholangiocarcinoma (the Bad Luck Brian of cancers.) and doesn't have much longer to live. Anyhow, his favorite image on the internet is of a dead deer on the side of the road with a "Get well soon" balloon tied to its leg. It cracks him up. Tickles him pink in fact...so, being the morbid family we are, that lead to this...

http://imgur.com/h2cCZQq

He might be dying, but I still call him dad, and he is still quick with a joke. As you can see his sense of humor hasn't gone anywhere. Our family's sense of humor is what gets us all through. I believe my favorite bad joke through all of this was his buddy who said, "Frank, that is the worst spray tan I've ever seen in my life." (You see, the cancer is shutting down his liver and he appears yellow from jaundice.)

I'm not looking for any sympathy here, dad's die all the time. That's a tough fact of life. I just wanted to spread a fine dadjoke.

Thanks for reading.

Dad: Did you hear they're not making toothpicks any longer?

Me: No, why?

Dad: Yeah, they're already long enough!

Hilarity ensues.

First and foremost, I've decided to add a rule 7. Please, for the love of God, have the slightest bit of creativity and do not put the punchline of the joke in the title. The reasoning being as follows.

Most importantly, putting the punchline in the title ruins the joke, unless it is a one liner!
*
Secondarily, this is a puns subreddit dedicated to wordplay, if you lack the creativity to restate something in a humorous way rather than regurgitating the punchline as the header, perhaps this isn't the subreddit for you...

#Secondarily,

I've made a few minor spam filter tweaks. Your post will be caught in the spam filter if:

1. Your account has less than +3 combined comment and link karma.
2. Your account is less than 7 days old.

What will happen if your post is filtered is it will automatically go into the spam queue, and I'll try to have it unfiltered in the span of a couple of minutes/hours, but sometimes I do sleep so sadly it may take longer.

My post isn't appearing! How do I fix it?

If your post is not appearing and it has not violated any of the rules, feel free to drop us a mod message and I'll get a mobile notification within 30 minutes or so of the post removal, putting it on the fast track to being restored.

Any time we'd see birds flying in a V formation, my dad would say "Any time you see birds flying like that, one line is always longer than the other. Know why that is?" me - "Why?" "Because there are more birds in that line."

When the water evaporates, there is no longer any solution.

Today in my class, somebody broke a pencil in 1/2 and threw it across my classroom. It hit me in the back. I told them we wouldn't leave the room until somebody fessed up and they sat in silence for a solid 10 minutes until I got out paper and made them write eye-witness statements (classic teacher move). As I was passing out the paper, one of the kids blurted out, "guys look what this has LEAD to." He couldn't hold it in any longer than he already had.

One of them was talking about some drama with her boyfriend and she says, "I just hate being in the dark". Without missing a beat, I point at a lamp and say "Well maybe you should sit under that lamp. Maybe it will shed some light on your situation."

I no longer have any friends.

MAN LAWS

The International Rules of Manhood

1: Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella.

2: It is OK for a man to cry ONLY under the following circumstances:

(a) When a heroic dog dies to save its master.

(b) The moment Angelina Jolie starts unbuttoning her blouse.

(c) After wrecking your boss' car.

(d) When she is using her teeth.

3: Any Man who brings a camera to a bachelor party may be legally killed and eaten by his buddies.

4: Unless he murdered someone in your family, you must bail a friend out of jail within 12 hours.

5: If you've known a guy for more than 24 hours, his sister is off limits forever unless you actually marry her.

6: Moaning about the brand of free beer in a buddy's fridge is forbidden. However complain at will if the temperature is unsuitable.

7: No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man. In fact, even remembering your buddy's birthday is strictly optional. At that point, you must celebrate at a strip bar of the birthday boy's choice.

8: On a road trip, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the weakest.

9: When stumbling upon other guys watching a sporting event, you may ask the score of the game in progress, but you may never ask who's playing.

10: You may flatulate in front of a woman only after you have brought her to climax. If you trap her head under the covers for the purpose of flatulent entertainment, she's officially your girlfriend.

11: It is permissible to drink a fruity alcohol drink only when you're sunning on a tropical beach... and it's delivered by a topless model and only when it's free.

12: Only in situations of moral and/or physical peril are you allowed to kick another guy in the nuts.

13: Unless you're in prison, never fight naked.

14: Friends don't let friends wear Speedos. Ever. Issue closed.

15: If a man's fly is down, that's his problem, you didn't see anything.

16: Women who claim they "love to watch sports" must be treated as spies until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to drink as much as the other sports watchers.

17: A man in the company of a hot, suggestively dressed woman must remain sober enough to fight.

18: Never hesitate to reach for the last beer or the last slice of pizza, but not both, that's just greedy.

19: If you compliment a guy on his six-pack, you'd better be talking about his choice of beer.

20: Never join your girlfriend or wife in discussing a friend of yours, except if she's withholding

An Aussie blonde was sent on her way to Heaven. Upon arrival, a concerned St Peter met her at the Pearly Gates. 'I'm sorry,' St Peter said; 'but Heaven is suffering from an overload of godly souls and we have been forced to put up an Entrance Exam for new arrivals to ease the burden of Heavenly Arrivals.'

'That's cool' said the blonde, 'What does the entrance exam consist of?'

'Just three questions' said St Peter.

'Which are?' asked the blonde.

'The first,' said St Peter, 'is, which two days of the week start with the letter 'T'? The second is 'How many seconds are there in a year'?

The third is 'What was the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?''

'Now,' said St Peter, 'Go away and think about those questions and when I call upon you, I shall expect you to have those answers for me.'

So the blonde went away and gave those three questions some considerable thought (I expect you to do the same).

The following morning, St Peter called upon the blonde and asked if she had considered the questions, to which she replied, 'I have.'

'Well then,' said St Peter, 'Which two days of the week start with the letter T?'

The blonde said, 'Today and Tomorrow.'

St Peter pondered this answer for some time and decided that indeed the answer can be applied to the question.

'Well then, could I have your answer to the second of the three questions' St Peter went on, 'how many seconds in a year?' The blonde replied, 'Twelve!' 'Only twelve' exclaimed St Peter, 'How did you arrive at that figure?' 'Easy,' said the blonde, 'there's the second of January, the second of February, right through to the second of December, giving a total of twelve seconds.'

St Peter looked at the blonde and said, 'I need some time to consider your answer before I can give you a decision.' He walked away shaking his head.

A short time later, St Peter returned to the blonde. 'I'll allow the answer to stand, but you need to get the third and final question absolutely correct to be allowed into Heaven. Now, can you tell me the answer to the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?'

The blonde replied: 'Of the three questions, I found this the easiest to answer.' 'Really!' exclaimed St Peter, 'and what is the answer?' 'It's Andy.' 'Andy??' 'Yes, Andy,' said the blonde. This totally floored St Peter and he paced this way and that, deliberating the answer. Finally, he could not stand the suspense any longer and turning to the blonde, asked 'How in God's name did you arrive at

He'd always recite the classic:

One bright day in the middle of the night/ Two dead boys got up to fight/ Back to back, they faced each other/ Threw their swords and shot each other/ The deaf policeman heard this noise/ Came and shot those two dead boys/ If you don't believe this lie is true/ Ask the blind man, he saw it too!

Not so much a joke but he always got a kick out of it and you knew it was coming in any car ride lasting longer than an hour.

Did you know they aren't making yard sticks any longer?

They said they didn't make it any longer

They aren't making them any longer.

Did you know they won't be making yard sticks any longer?