Districts Puns

It'll be called Suburbway.

A kid was manning the pump and I asked if they take cards He replies with a straight face : No we give it back after swiping

A Moonicipality.

But the prosecutor.

Because every prosecutor loves arraigny day!

This will make the District of Columbia, finally a steak.

A Pastatute

A settlement has been reached in one of the sweetest lawsuits ever to be filed in federal court, but details of the payday are under wrappers.

Daryl White Jr. of Belle, Missouri, didn’t sugar coat his anger about paying a dollar apiece for boxes of Mike and Ikes and Hot Tamales that were only two-thirds full. Determined not to be a sucker, he hired counsel and paid the U.S. District Court Western District of Missouri a $400 filing fee to sue Just Born Inc., the candymaker’s parent company, for alleged deceptive advertising and unjust enrichment.

SOURCE

My SO was telling me about this tree in her neighbor's yard that has little birds fall out of it every year and that they're not able to fend for their selves. The conversation then follows

Me: Must be hard for the birds being in a bad school district.

Her: What do you mean?

Me: The neighborhood has a terrible dropout rate.

She: rolls eyes

So I was working at the summer camp my school district puts on today, and one of the students had an injury which involved an ice pack for treatment. She was sitting with her sister, who then stole the ice pack in an attempt to keep cool. I walk up to her, and I say, "Stealing an ice pack from your injured sister? That's cold."

Cue groaning

From a trademark case filed by Zatarain's (the jambalaya guys) regarding competitor's "Chicken Fry" and "Fish Fry". Zatarain's lost at the district level and appealed.

"Battered, but not fried, Zatarain's appeals from the adverse judgment on several grounds."

I audibly groaned.

I just came back from a holiday back to the UK to visit friends and family (am an expat).

While we were there we went to a nice community festival, with some great beers. An American friend of a friend proudly proclaimed that he’d bought a pint of red stout.

Looking up at the board, and seeing the name of the beer, my eyes lit up: a golden opportunity had just presented itself.

‘Nah mate, that’s not red stout, it’s called Red Stoat. You do know what a stoat is, right?

[confusion]

‘Well, it’s a little rodent, a bit like a weasel. You know how you can tell the difference between a stoat and a weasel?’

‘Er..’

‘Well’, I says, ‘a weasel is weasily identifiable, and a stoat is stoatally different.’

Cue a puzzled look on the guys face, and a moment’s silence, broken by me and my friend pissing ourselves laughing, not at the joke of course, but at his reaction.

So this was all very well and good, just another in the litany of bad jokes that floats in my wake, and I thought the story ended there.

Karma, however, had other plans…

A few days later, we’re up in the Lake District, walking back to the hotel after a pub dinner. As we’re walking down the road, we see a small carnivorous rodent dragging the recently deceased body of a rabbit back to its home. It was either a stoat, or a weasel, but you know what? I honestly had no way to tell which…