Back On The Block Puns

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

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

A man walks out of his work building and hails a taxi. He gets into the taxi and says, "Take me to the sandwich shop up on 45^th street." Ten minutes later they arrive, and the cab driver checks the console. "That'll be $12.00." The man is shocked. "This route used to be only $6.00! What happened?" The taxi driver explains. "Well, construction was blocking the usual route, so I had to double back and take a longer route." The man considers this, then shrugs.

"I guess that's fare."

King Broderick was in trouble. He wasn't a very good king, and his brother Argyle was gathering forces to depose him and take the crown. In desperation, he captured Count Petrie, a very popular man who was one of his brother's cronies, and tortured him to learn his brother's location.

But the count wouldn't divulge the information, so the King scheduled a public execution. The crowds gathered, including the King's brother, who was there in disguise. The Count was forced to kneel, with his head on the chopping block. The headsman stood nearby, holding his axe at the ready. King Broderick loudly proclaimed "Count, you are here before me because you have aligned yourself with my brother. If you tell me where he is, I will allow you to live out your days in my dungeon. Remain silent, and you will die." The Count remained silent. King Broderick motioned to the headsman, who slowly raised his axe and swung it down...THUNK...into the wood next to the Count's head. The Count stared at the axe, visibly shaking. King Broderick loudly proclaimed "Count, that was a warning, and there will not be another. Tell me where my brother is and you will live. Remain silent, and you will die!" The Count stayed silent. King Broderick again motioned to the headsman, who raised the axe. As the headsman began the downswing, the Count cried out "Wait!!" but...THUNK...it was too late, and the Count's head fell to the ground.

At the Count's death, the King's brother leapt up and revealed himself to the crowd. Cheering Argyle, they crowded forward and overran the King's guards. Soon, it was Broderick's head on the chopping block. Argyle, the new King, waved back the headsman, knelt beside his brother and whispered into his ear "Silly brother, don't hatchet your Counts before they've chickened."

Okay so I get off at 4:00 and I didn't waste any time leaving the office. Shut down my computer, grabbed my keys, and I was on the road by 4:05. It had been a pretty crazy day and I was ready to get home.

As I'm driving home I notice I'm running on Empty. I probably could have made it home but I was really craving a Coca Cola so I decide to stop at the nearest gas station.

Anyways I'm filling my tank I see an old lady a few gas pumps away putting gas in her old beat up station wagon but didn't really think anything of it and just continued to enjoy my icey cold Coca Cola.

Next thing I know I see this old lady holding the gas pump nozzle spewing gas everywhere. I guess she had taken the nozzle out of the vehicle w out disengaging the automatic trigger or whatever but it went EVERYWHERE. Her car, her arms, the ground, all over the place and by the time she got that thing to stop spraying there was at least a gallon of gas everywhere.

So I immediately run over to see if she's okay and she smells like straight up gas. I gave her napkins to dry off her hands and to clean what gas was spilled on the car. She said she was okay and thanked me for my help so I leave and head home.

So now I'm a few blocks from home, driving over the last hill right before my next turn and all of a sudden, almost out of nowhere, she comes flyin past me in that same old beat up station wagon with, I shit you not, her arm CAUGHT ON FIRE. And as if that's not bad enough there are two cops right behind her in hot pursuit. So while I'm freaking out trying to pull over to the side she zooms past so fast I barely catch a glimpse of her frantically flailing her arm out the window as they all go over the hill.

At that point couldn't believe what I was seeing it was just too crazy. So I quickly get back on the road and make my way over the hill and I spot her. She's pulled over in the emergency lane. I see the same old lady being handcuffed and put in the back of the squad car.

Yeah turns out she was arrested for waiving a fire arm in public.

¯_(ツ)_/¯

Because he might Pikachu!

I used to get to do these all the times. When the drawer got stuck I would wrestle the obstruction inside blocking it and exclaim that this would not be a problem if we just had a lesser cheese grater...I began to love bombing there for a while. Ah...

Edit- no one got the grater joke then either, don't feel bad. but it was on the spot so it didn't need all the setup i ruined here. Try this for your brains: Our drawers often had a lot of utensils and stuff in them, and some of it was also big, like the cheese grater. That would get jostled and end up on top of a fork pile or whatever and be up high enough in the drawer to keep the thing from opening, ie the drawer would open to where the grater hit the back of it and jam the works up, right? the grater was too great. i needed a lesser grater so the drawer wouldnt get jammed. Did that help?

There are three classes of cheerios, the lower class (plain ol' cheerios), the middle class cheerios (frosted), and the elite class (honey nut). One soggy morning in Seattle, a plain cheerio awoke in his single room apartment. He looked out at the still sleepy city, blanketed in a mist of rain. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes on, this would be the day. He stood propped against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. "God I have got to stop this habit." He thought to himself. Glancing back and forth at the bustle of cheerios, he saw her. She looked about 25, devastatingly gorgeous, and he could smell the honey from where he stood. "Excuse me ma'am," his voice quivered, "I - I think you might be the most beautiful cheerio I have ever seen." She smiled and her otherwise golden brown face grew red. " This is a long shot, but will you marry me?' She was obviously caught off guard by this, but her red lips formed the word, "Yes." They raced through the morning mist of the city, and arrived at her fathers house. The cheerio bent down in front of her father. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing in marrying your daughter" "No! You are a regular cheerio and my daughter needs a high quality honey nut" he snapped. "But sir." "No means no damnit!" "Sir this is very unrea-" "You come back a honey nut and you'll have my blessing, my daughter is not about to marry a low life like you." The cheerio sprinted home, tears streaming down his face. He fumbled against the lock and sprawled out on his bed. When he awoke it was early, his sheets had a dark silhouette from his wet jacket. He sat up and lit a cigarette. "Damn." he sighed to himself. Walking in front of his mirror, he noticed something different. His body was frosted! He had become a frosted cheerio! He darted out the door without shoes, reaching the honey nut household in no time at all. He banged on the door, and the beauty's father answered. "Sir I am a changed cheerio! I'm frosted!" he exclaimed. Her father had a stern look on his face. "You think you are any better? The dirt on my boots are worth more than you." he hissed. The old honey nut slammed the door on the young frosted. He heard the deadbolt click. The newly frosted cheerio didn't take the same way home. He stood on the edge of a bridge, feeling the cool autumn wind on his sugar coated skin. Was he really going to go through with this? Was it worth it? No he was a frosted cheerio now. He couldn't get the girl, but he was a changed cheerio. He

Backstory: Many years ago I was living on my own about 45 minutes away from my parents. I had a stable job but didn't make much money and was broke most of the time. I had an old beat up car that was my only form of transportation. I would always have mechanical issues with the car and finally one morning it decided it wouldn't start no matter what.

I sheepishly had to call in to work and explain the situation and let them know that I would have to take a sick day but would figure some way to get to work the next day. I called my dad and he offered to come pick the car up on his trailer and take it back to his garage to work on it and get it in shape to trade it in.

He drives to my apartment, we get the car on the trailer and we are headed back to his house. The whole ride there I'm pretty pissed off and depressed about the whole situation. I'm worried about finding a new car and how I'm going to afford it and what I'm gonna do if I can't get it running again.

Dad senses my mood and pretty much keeps quiet the whole time. We get about three blocks away from his house and he utters this gem.

"Man, this car won't get off my ass. He's been tailgating me for 45 minutes now."

This was the perfect thing to snap me out of my funk and break the tension. I absolutely lost it. Only a Dad Joke could make me realize how trivial the whole thing was. I have told this joke to others who didn't really think it was that funny, but to me at the time it was the greatest thing ever.

Thanks Dad.

So, my dad could be considered a regular jokester. He had his dad jokes, his dirty jokes, clean but provocative joke, setup jokes, everything. He never missed a chance to turn something into a joke for hinself, even, and perpahs especially, if it only amused himself. I found out at an young age that no situation is too serious for him.

I was around 9 years old and I was in the cub scouts, and it was box car derby season. I was in the dining room, carving away at my block of wood when the blade in my right hand skipped the wood and carved my left thumb. It fucking hurt and bled like a sonofabitch. I immediately starting screaming and my dad raced into the room and found me covered in blood, my left hand now with two thumbs. We get it wrapped and he drives me to the emergency room. By the time we got there the bleeding had stopped and I have stopped crying. As we pull up, my dad looks st me, shakes his head and says "We can't go in there like this, we'll end up waiting forever to see a doctor. You need to cry once we're in there and that'll help" I said ok, and he said as we were walking up, "I'll give you a signal to start crying." How will i know, i asked him snd he just said i'll know. We go inside and walk up to the admittance desk. I'm short, so at the time my head just cleared the desk. My dad tells the nurse that we have a cut, and need to see a doctor right away. The nurse pushes paperwork at him and he tells her again, this time that its a real bad cut. The nurse finally looks at me for the first time and she frowns, because im relatively normal looking, even though im hurting and nervous, waiting for my dads signal. My dad pulls me back a bit and her eyes widen really big when she sees all the dried blood caked on the lower left side of my body. She starts getting excited and says "Ohmygoshohmygosh" over and over and this point im starting to get scared when my Dad, in a serious voice says "Its even worse than it looks! You're going to have to take the whole hand!"

Then I start crying.

This was one of her favorite jokes she loved to tell: One day, a man was walking home after a long day at work. As he waited for a crosswalk signal, he glanced back and noticed a coffin standing down the block. "Odd," he thought, but he ignored it and continued home. He turned the corner and managed to catch a glimpse of the coffin again. This time is was closer to him... like it was following him. He picked up his pace and ran into his apartment complex. The coffin was right behind him. In a fright, he dashed up the stairs to his place, locked the door and barricaded himself in the bathroom. Thud, thud, thud! The coffin was banging on the bathroom door. The man frantically looked for something to defend himself. Just as the coffin busted through the door, the man grabbed some cough syrup from the medicine cabinet, threw it at the coffin ... and the coffin stopped.

My dad told me this the first time on Halloween night back when I was 9. He tells it to this day to any of my cousins, nephews, or any kids that happen to linger too long at the house when he's giving out candy. It's a long one but I have always enjoyed it.

Back when I was about your age, I went on a Halloween adventure. There was an old abandoned house on our street where a series of grisly axe murders had taken place years before. The house had never sold and was left vacant and was left to fall apart. There was a local legend that if you went into the house on Halloween night, you'd be confronted by the ghost of the murderer himself, still looking for more victims to add to his terrifying story.

My friend Tom and I decided to go through with it one year. Knowing everyone would be too terrified to go into the house, we snuck in easily on Halloween night. The place was falling apart inside, the carpet was wet and moldy and the wallpaper was peeling off everywhere. We headed down carefully to the basement down a set of creaky stairs.

At first we found nothing. Just an empty creepy old house. Suddenly we felt as if we were being watched. I was looking through one of the rooms in the large basement when I suddenly heard Tom shriek. I spun around and turned my flashlight and Tom was being chased by something, no someone. It looked like it was the murderer! A crazed man with an axe!

We turned and tried to run anywhere. We were in the basement but couldn't get up the stairs because we were blocked. We ran into the side room which looked like it might have been the laundry years ago. We locked the door and looked for a way out. The only thing we could find was a small window that opened onto ground level. As I climbed out I heard a pounding on the door. I managed to wriggle my way through the window and turned around to help my friend Tom. Panicking, he managed to get his top half through the window when I noticed the pounding stop.

Tom was stuck! I kept trying to pull him up but I couldn't. I pulled as hard as I could as Tom panicked and thrashed even more. I thought something had him caught, but it was even worse. The murderer had gotten behind him and was holding him back! He was too strong for me to overcome and he was pulling Tom's leg!

Just like I've been pulling yours this whole time.