Portrait of A Young Dad as an Artist [OC]

In the Alpine mountains of Switzerland, a young carpenter has just learned that his wife is with child.

Looking for advice, he consults his own father, to better prepare for fatherhood. The old man tells him, ''You should build something to await the arrival of the child. Something which will have your purest thoughts, your kindest emotions encapsulated within, to gift to the child when it is born. ''

On the way atop the mountains, the young man gets an idea forming within his head, whilst walking past a field with horses about. He will build a small wooden race horse on wheels, for the child to ride around in.

He spends hours, tirelessly carving, polishing, measuring, until nine months later, the child is born. The man's life is suddenly filled with intense joy, and he forgets about his gift for a little while. That is, until his son begins to take his first steps, and his balance becomes more assured. The carpenter decides to take the wooden horse out of his workshop, and gift it to his son. The son, is instantly magnetized by the toy, and instinctively learns how to ride it forth, and about the house.

With time, the child grows up strong, smarter every day. With age, he began neglecting the wooden horse, and soon, his mother had tucked it away, as a keepsake into the attic of the house.
A few decades pass, and the child has become a man. He followed up in his father's footsteps, in some ways, and in others he varied. He went on to study the Arts in Zurich, but still chose to work with wood, like his father did.

His sculptures became famous, as he managed to catalyze the aesthetic, literary and artistic movements of the time. His first exposition came, and he stood there, proud, in this artistic intelligentsia coffee house, surrounded by cigar smoke, thinking of his dad, who had since passed.

Suddenly, a man sporting a cigarette perched atop fine lips, approached him, and asked inquisitively in Swiss German, but with an undeniably thick French accent.

''Are you an artist?''

''Non, but my Dada ist.''

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/theilliteratemaiden
๐Ÿ“…︎ Nov 05 2020
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This story is about a man called Trevor, and his obsession with tractors.

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 Trevorโ€™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.

Trevorsโ€™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 Trevorโ€™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 wasnโ€™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.

โ€œWellโ€ said Jeff, โ€œAs Iโ€™m sure you know the convention comes to town laterโ€.

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.

โ€œYes of courseโ€ replied Trevor

... keep reading on reddit โžก

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/ShredderSte
๐Ÿ“…︎ Aug 07 2020
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[REQUEST] Username Pun

Hi guys, I need to change my username online (mostly used in games) as it's not really something unique ( came from a book I read when I was younger ).

I'm trying to find something quite funny, with plays on words for example. But english isn't my native language and I find it quite hard ! So I'm asking you guys to help me :) You're the best for that imho !

If you could help me find something mixing music (percussions/drums), sciences (my field of study, physics to be more precise), beer and animals maybe (?) (because I like that !)

I think this is possible to find something using some science-specific noun and something else. But I can't seem to find one that suits me :(

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/PRD-dat
๐Ÿ“…︎ Mar 10 2016
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Regarding the diets of dairy cows.

I grew up in Vermont. Around my town were plenty of dairy farms, inviting the always wonderful manure aroma. An aroma that nearly forced my father to inhale deeply through his nose, saying, "Ah, fresh Vermont air!"

That's an excellent Dad one liner, as are most dad jokes, but he had another great one that I'm getting to.

You see, the hay bails we saw growing up in Vermont were mostly the cube variety. Hay bailing technology at the time created cubes of hay, so that's what dotted the fields they'd graze in.

As we grew older, we starting noticing the now more common round bails of hay. Dad was not pleased.

I asked him what the problem was or, at least, what his problem was with the round bails. The best jokes are set up when you ask for them.

So, he tells me. New farming technology allowed the round bails to be created more efficiently. They used less fuel in the bailers, took less passes on the field to gather the hay. They used less twine, and even though they didn't fill a truck as well as square bails, there was still a net monetary gain from the efficiency gained elsewhere.

However, studies were done on the bails. The cows approached them differently due to the different alignment of surface area. The way the rain hit the bails and rolled off as opposed to soaking in leached nutrients out of the hay. Some cows even mistook the shape of bail for another animal, and approached them so nervously that their heart rates were known to raise significantly; such a rate that a tinge of acidity could be tasted by those in the know in their milk.

What all of this amounted to... is that with the new round bails of hay, the cows just weren't getting a good square meal.

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๐Ÿ‘ค︎ u/estomasi
๐Ÿ“…︎ Sep 06 2013
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