I've two bulls who just love to fight //
they simply cannot be polite //
Just one needs to breed //
and so I'll proceed //
to castrate the weak one tonight
The procedure is safe, I insist //
if we make the blood flow desist //
to make bleeding halt //
do the "ball somersault" //
and give that whole sack a huge twist
To do this requires no skill //
I'll just need a quite large power-drill //
and a specialized clamp //
to hold on to that champ //
then turn it on fast- what a thrill!
It is clear this device should appeal //
to those who need bulls with less zeal //
I shall name this device //
with a drill and a vise //
the most perfect of names: "Steering Wheel!"
Husband: I recommend that you use this clamp with my company’s logo on it.
Wife: I don’t need your advise!
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... keep reading on reddit ➡
The neighboring store front and exterminator van in the opening credits have the best punny business names and always crack me up. I'm a fan and would love to name my business in a similar fashion. ETA Examples: I'd Hit That Boxing Gym. Lady and the Clamp, Hardware for Her. A Fridge Too Far. Cupid's Stupid, Divorce Attorneys. A Ton in the Oven, Big and Tall Baby Clothes. Let's Scissor! Collage Studio. Don't Stop Bereaving, Grief Counseling.
But I am So. Stuck.
A little background about my business idea: I'm a personal/sometimes virtual assistant specializing in household admin and management. I'm marketing mostly towards blue collar men who might be widows/divorcees who never had to worry about the general finances and household paperwork. Some of the services offered are: budget setting, bill paying, appointment setting/calendar management, travel arrangements, errands, personal & grocery shopping, pet & house sitting, etc...
I'm ready to take the next steps in making this an actual business and take out some ad space, but the perfectionist in me NEEDS a brilliant name. Can someone please help me? The best I can come up with is some sort of play on Pepper Potts, but I see quite a few VAs out there with that as a business name. I will gift a platinum to the one I like the best if that's appropriate.
Thank you in advance! 🍔
Did you hear about the magician who grabbed Eminem so hard his SnapBack fell off?
He pulled a rabbit out of his hat
What do you call a magician who is an administrator at a college, but nobody knows what students he is in charge of?
Whose dean’s he?
A magician went out to the store and bought a big metal structure so he could hang upside down and do situps. He also loved painting, but because of his style he often knocked the canvas around while dabbing on the paint. So he bought another, wooden structure, like an easel, but with clamps to hold the painting in place while he prodded it with the paintbrush. His wife asked, as he brought them in, what the hell he had just bought. He replied:
“Ab rack and dab rack”
What do you call a magician with very skinny fingers?
Slight of hand
The magician’s wife brought him to the store to buy gifts for a birthday party. She picked out a lovely candle, but wanted to include a nice note. The magician knew just what to do. He brought her down an aisle, found a section marked “birthday,” and said:
“Pick a card, any card”
The Russian magician, in 1932, found an amazing new piece for his act: a giant, wooden sarcophagus in the shape of a beautiful woman. The piece had giant, metal blades inside at waist level. They were locked in place while it was open, but retracted as it closed, making it seem as though the magician had escaped death. But one day, while he was practicing, the great sarcophagus fell over - door still open - right on the magician. When he was found, he was cut right in two. Moral of the story:
In Soviet Russia, box woman saws you.
Okay that’s it. I’m so sorry, I have nothing better to do.
You clamp the otter-y.
Said this in the ER, got groans from a troop of nurses.