Ex Post Puns

http://i.imgur.com/424NPV4.jpg

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

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"

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

So I'm having lunch with the family, and a girl walks in with a Google t shirt.

My dad leans in to me and whispers, "You should go ask that girl if she's 'searching' for you..."

Edit: told my dad about the turnout of this post during dinner and he told me he'd turn my Moto X phone into a Moto Ex phone if I kept using it during family meals. Looks like the fun never ends...

Hello everyone. Today, a 72-year-old man named Mike came into my office. Mike blessed me with many gifts, a sampling of which I would like to share with you all here.

First, Mike asked how I was. I said "good, how are you?" Mike: I had a dream last night I was a muffler. And when I woke up it scared me because I was exhausted.

Mike also has an ex wife. "My Ex wife was so ugly her mom made her go trick or treating by telephone so she didn’t scare the other children."

Not just one ex wife, Mike has two ex wives. "My ex wife was so ugly I used to take her to work with me so I didn’t have to kiss her goodbye"

Mike does a lot of work for various charities. "I asked the lady at a restaurant if I could post my flyer for an event in the window. She said 'that depends, are you a non-profit?' I said 'lady I've got two ex wives, I haven't had profit in 30 years!'"

Those darn ex wives. "I’m so poor a pick pocket tried to rob me the other day and all he got was practice."

Mike actually came to my office to tell me about a basketball camp he's putting on next week. He's been playing basketball for 64 years. "I was a great athlete in high school. I was voted most valuable player by all the cheerleaders."

There was one girl though who got away. "There was a girl who lived down the street and I used to call her all the time and say 'Sarah, can I come over?' and she'd say no. So one day she called & said “Mike, come over, nobody's home.” So I went to her house and she was right, there wasn’t anybody there."

That girl may be why he didn't play baseball. "I played football, basketball and track. Someone asked me 'Mike, why didn't you play baseball?' I said 'because I was already so good at striking out!'"

Anyways, Mike went on to have a lengthy career in TV and radio, until he didn't. "I had to quit my job for medical reasons. My boss said I made her sick."

Thank you for your time.

Make an entire comment chain of puns somehow relating to what's on your right. The person who replies automatically joins your game. They must reply with a pun that is related to the same thing. Whoever makes the most puns is the winner. They must be real puns, not just sentences that you say are puns. C'mon, reddit. You can do this. You're like, the website for puns. If I get enough puns, I will draw the pun of the first person to post a pun here (ex. if the first person says, "Well now I'm drawing a blanket," I would draw someone drawing a blanket.) Have fun brahs!

because he has gnocchi

Ex post from /r/jokes got exiled to dadjokes

My ex-girlfriend just posted a joke her dad told her...

"I had a dream last night I was a muffler, I woke up exhausted!"