A list of puns related to "Force Out"
Man-dating it.
They had a zero Tolerance policy
Seal clubbing
My wife got the question: "Which city is NOT located in Egypt - Cairo, Dakar, Rosetta?"
Wife: "Where is Dakar?"
Dad: "In the garage."
Bad idea, Heinz-Sight 2020.
They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.
Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.
As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.
They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.
Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?
They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.
"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".
They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.
But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.
The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.
And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!
Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?
"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"
In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and
... keep reading on reddit ➡Oops, wrong sub.
She filled a cup of water placed it on her head and began to violently and rapidly breathe in and out. The force is strong with her.
Global chaos ensues.
The disease wipes out 99% of humanity, and the desperate survivors are forced to live in a post-alpaca lip tick wasteland.
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 ➡So a bit of background here, I am fully dependent on my carer. Where he goes, I go. What he eats, I have to eat too. And because of that, if he wants to eat the wrong thing, I suffer.
I have no control over what he feeds us and I can't always tolerate the foods he likes. If he eats food that is too spicy, I yell at him. Like a lot. I've even made him cry a few times. But the thing is, I can't control myself. Every time I talk, it is shit for everyone in my vicinity, especially him. That's why I need him as a carer. I really tried to not give him shit for a couple weeks by not talking at all but he thought it was so bad that I did that he took me to the doctor to force me to keep giving out instead of bottling it all up.
I don't know what to do. I'm literally the end point of his digestive system. Am I the asshole?
RETIRED HUSBAND
After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to WalMart. Unfortunately, like most men; I found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like most women - she loves to browse. Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter, from the local WalMart:
Dear Mrs. Harris:
Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion, in our store.
We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to, ban both of you from the store.
Our complaints against your husband, Mr. Harris, are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras:
June 15: He took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other people's carts when they weren't looking.
July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.
July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.
July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, 'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away'. This caused the employee to leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her Supervisor that in turn resulted with a union grievance, causing management to lose time and costing the company money. We don't have a Code 3.
August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&Ms on layaway.
August 14: Moved a, 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.
August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the children shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department to which twenty children obliged.
August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?' EMTs were called.
September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.
September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.
October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while, loudly humming the, 'Mission Impossible' theme.
October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his, 'Madonna Look' using different sizes of funnels.
October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'
October 22: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed;
'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'
So once upon a time, there was a planet shaped like a cheerio. A small moon made of milk or tied the planet, going through the center of the donut shaped world. On this planet, lived an interesting species. They acted and lived similarly to us humans? But looked just like large Cheerios (with footings hands and feet like miis) Within this society there were levels of Cheerios: original, honey nut, and finally frosted. The originals were the backbone of the economy, doing the herd labor while the honey nuts ran the businesses and the frosted Cheerios (the top of the top) led the world. Our story today focuses on a single Cheerio. Born into an original Cheerio family, this lad learned the hard way how to work. From a young age, he was forced to get a job in the local milk refinery, where his dad worked. He grew up, and soon had a family of his own. His wife, son, and daughter all worked hard, but were happy. One day walking home from school, the kids found a runaway honey nut Cheerio pup, and decided to keep him. It wasn’t much, but it inspired our little Cheerio friend here. One day, he got fed up with taking orders, and demanded a raise. His entire family has worked in this one factory for three generations, and he wanted to move up in the world, not just for him but also his kids. His old boss however, did not have the power to promote this Cheerio, and he was forced to make a life changing decision: he would go to the refinery company and use every penny in the family savings account (under the bed) to try and get a higher position. After waiting on line for over a week, his appoint was finally here. After bickering and bargaining for hours, the refinery company boss saw a spark in this lad’s eye. He agreed to give this Cheerio a promotion to the honored honey nut glaze in exchange for everything this man owned, including the family’s prized honey nut dog. Was it worth it? Well pretty soon he owned his own milk refinery and was able to breed his own honey nut dogs, so yes, yes it was. Owning and operating the refinery went smoothly. Milk was transported from the moon to the planet using space busses, and the milk itself was funneled down to the refineries using large straws. After the milk was ready to drink, it was shipped off to be sold. He was happy working here, but eventually he realized it wasn’t enough. This Cheerio, once a simple original Cheerio wanted to follow the “American dream” and do the best he could. He wanted to become a frosted Ch
... keep reading on reddit ➡...forced jokes.
I'll show myself out.
...he was forced to take out a restraining order.
The bartender says "I'm sorry, we don't serve rope here." The length of rope leaves, and comes back later with a disguise. The bartender says "I just told you, we don't serve rope here." The rope decides that he'll get stronger and force his way into the bar. So, he starts stretching and exercising, twisting himself around, and rubs his back against the brick wall to build pain tolerance. When he returns to the bar, the bartender looks at him. "Weren't you the length of rope I kicked out earlier?"
"No," the rope responds. "I'm a frayed knot."
... when something falls out of the tree and hits him on the head.
He picks up the fallen object and examines it, then declares, “Why, some invisible force must have pulled this apple to the ground!”
A passerby overhears the famed scientist, then mutters, “Fucking idiot doesn’t know one fruit from another,” before shouting, “Hey! That’s a fig, Newton!”
Two NASA engineers were arguing over the feasibility of building a high tech satellite that could see everything, anywhere in the galaxy, by orbiting a spherical lens around a mirrored device at various ranges of orbit. An application controlling the length of the O-Range (range of orbit) would pull the lens in, then release it, and centripetal force would pull it out again. The length of the "app pull", the distance the application would pull the lens back from orbit, had to be precise to ensure proper visibility at all times.
One of the scientists argued that the math to ensure total visibility at all times did not work. Eventually, they brought in another scientist to settle the argument. After several moments reviewing the math the two scientists had done on the board, their colleague spoke out.
"It's so obvious why you two cannot come to a conclusion," he said, "you're comparing app pulls to o-ranges!"
"Forcing creative work is like forcing a fart...it will probably come out much worse than you had hoped."
There was a bad hurricane coming and the farmer gathered all the cows to put in the barn. The young bull refused to go, and the farmer was forced to leave him in the field. The hurricane came and the bull just leaned into the wind and weaved around. The storm mercifully let up after some damage to the barn and other buildings. The cows were very concerned for the young bull and ran out to the field to check on him. One of the older cows asked the young bull why he stayed outside in the storm weaving etc? "We bulls wobble, but we don't fall down" was the reply.
A Call to Arms A Plead to the Limbless
The Armless are a stump among society and could easily achieve more. It’s bothersome that somebody with great potential could allow themselves to lose grip of what they aspire for. The radius of support and development that surrounds these people is astounding. Yet they bite the hand that feeds and throw away opportunities. With each passing day they are crippled by the errors in their ways. Not only are they not properly handling the situation, they are doing a disservice to society. Most will say to refrain from pointing fingers, but it is pertinent that we show them their faults.
All aside we should most certainly not try to elbow my way into their lives. However, if they were to branch off into their own progressive groups it would be most beneficial. And severance is a good thing between them and the public. This doesn't mean a complete amputation of them from society. Perhaps selective assistance will help these people find a well fitted sleeve within their communities. This process is difficult and lending a helping hand can make the difference.
On the other hand, we have those who don’t try to succeed. Their negligence is worthy of more than a mere slap on the wrist. When somebody refuses to apply themselves, they are holding back progress. By giving themselves mental limitation they are creating a prosthetic disability they must abide by. The majority of working to achieve goals is believing you can reach out and grab them. But, somebody who gives up is cutting themselves short of success Seeing somebody give up is the furthest thing from being humerus. Urging these people is a necessity, otherwise they will never try their hardest, encourage them to use some elbow grease and put forth full effort. Any small contribution is better than being a detriment, community service, obtaining greater education, enlisting in the armed forces, these all benefit society. Drastic changes of this scale are sure to cause discontent, grab a tissue if need be, but never give up. For all those that are currently wasting away without contribution, it's time to limb’er up and take charge.
I took my daughter to get some keys cut at Home Depot. She picked out a pink one and I picked out a super awesome Star Wars key. They cut her key first followed by mine
"Daddy, the machine is louder cutting your key"
"Well kiddo, that's because Star Wars keys need more Force"
From movie puns we provide you the funniest collection of Star Wars puns
What do you call 5 siths piled on top of a lightsaber? A Sith-Kabob!
Why does Princess Leia keep her hair tied up in buns? So it doesn’t Hang Solow!
Why shouldn’t you ask Yoda for money? Because he’s always a little short
What program do Jedi use to view PDF files? Adobe Wan Kenobi
What do you call a Mexican jedi? Obi-Juan Kenobi
What do you call the website Chewbacca started that gives out Empire secrets? Wookieeleaks
What do you call a Jedi in denial? Obi-Wan Cannot Be
Where does Princess Leia go shopping for clothing? At the Darth Maul
Greg: Which Star Wars character travels around the world? Craig: Who? Greg: Globi-wan Kenobi!
Matthew: What does a Star Destroyer wear to a wedding? Daniel: What? Matthew: Bow ties, of course!
Deen Why was the droid angry? Mark: Why? Deen People kept pushing its buttons.
Luke: Why did Anakin Skywalker cross the road? Lei Not sure. Luke: To get to the Dark Side.
Darth Vader: I know what you’re getting for Christmas. Luke: How do you know? Darth Vader: I can feel your presents.
What do Whipids say when they kiss? Ouch.
What is a jedi’s favorite toy? A yo-yoda
What do you call a pirate droid? Argh2-D2
Where does Jabba the Hutt eat? Pizza Hutt
What is Jabba the Hutt’s middle name? “The” Why is Han Solo a loner? Because he’s solo.
What do you call a Mexican jedi? Obi-Juan Kenobi What do you call a Sith who won’t fight? A Sithy.
What time is it when Darth Vader steps on your chronometer? Time to get a new chronometer.
What do you call a pirate droid? Arrrrgh-2-D2
Which side of a wookie has the most hair? The outside.
Where does Jabba eat dinner? Pizza Hutt
Who do Jedi call to help open PDF files? Adobe Wan Kenobi
What do you call someone that tries to be a Jedi? Obi-Wannabe
What do you call a bounty hunter from Alabama? Bubba Fett
What time is it when Jabba the Hutt sits on your blaster? Time to get a new blaster! Why is Luke
Skywalker always invited on picnics? He always has the forks with him.
Which imperial officer hated Thanksgiving? Grand Moff Turkeyn
What do you call stormtroopers playing Monopoly? Game of Clones
Why did
... keep reading on reddit ➡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."
I was picking up a jug of lemonade at Walgreens (being that it was the closest store) and gave the cashier a $5 bill. Some strange force came out of me, and I felt comfortable with the man, and said "Here's a Lincoln." He replies,
"I'd personally prefer a Cadillac, but I'll take a Lincoln."
Everyone behind me in line groaned while the cashier and I laughed hysterically.
...for days, parched and exhausted. Eventually, he came across a small town and headed straight for the tavern. The string walked in, went up to the bar, and ordered a tall glass of water. The bartender looked at the string and said, "Sorry, we don't serve strings here." The string couldn't believe it, but was forced to leave. Outside, he asked a stranger for help. He said to the stranger, "Hey pal, could you help a string out? The bartender won't serve me, so I need a disguise. Could you twist me into a knot so it looks like I have a head?." The stranger obliged and offered to do even better, "Let me fray out your top a little so you have hair, too." With renewed confidence, the string goes back into the tavern and orders a glass of water. The bartender suspiciously asks, "Hey, aren't you that string from earlier?" The string replies, "No sir, I'm a frayed knot."
A man is driving down the road and his car breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, "My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?"The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound. A sound unlike anything he's ever heard before. The Sirens that nearly seduced Odysseus into crashing his ship comes to his mind. He doesn't sleep that night. He tosses and turns trying to figure out what could possibly be making such a seductive sound.The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk." Distraught, the man is forced to leave.Years later, after never being able to forget that sound, the man goes back to the monastery and pleads for the answer again.The monks reply, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk."The man sa,ys, "If the only way I can find out what is making that beautiful sound is to become a monk, then please, make me a monk."The monks reply, "You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of grains of sand. When you find these answers, you will have become a monk."The man sets about his task. After years of searching he returns as a gray-haired old man and knocks on the door of the monastery. A monk answers. He is taken before a gathering of all the monks."In my quest to find what makes that beautiful sound, I traveled the earth and have found what you asked for: By design, the world is in a state of perpetual change. Only God knows what you ask. All a man can know is himself, and only then if he is honest and reflective and willing to strip away self deception."The monks reply, "Congratulations. You have become a monk. We shall now show you the way to the mystery of the sacred sound."The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, "The sound is beyond that door."The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone. The man is given the key to the stone door and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. And so it went that he needed keys to doors of emerald, pearl and diamond.Finally, they come to a door made of solid gold. The sound has become very clear and definite. The monks say, "This is the last key to the last door."The man is apprehensive to no end. His life's wish is behind that door!With trembling hands, he unlocks the door, turns the kno
... keep reading on reddit ➡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.
He's normally filled with dad jokes, but today was a bit more than usual.
Physics problem about horse pulling cart
Teacher stands up on table and makes horse noises
Class laughs
Teacher: What? I'm a horse! It's a bit of a long tale!
Class laughs
Teacher: but, let's stop horsing around and get to the mane point!
Student: You're on a roll today Mr. Teacher!
Teacher: No, I'm on a table!
Later on in class
Teacher: As you can see forces come in pairs! Pulls out a pear and opens it up revealing F and -F on each side
And then later on
Student: Hold on Mr. Teacher, I'll fix the calculations.
Teacher grabs onto desk
Teacher: When can I stop holding on?
Just a typical day in physics for me.
After I let one rip with moderate force, my dad responded by bellowing out (in a crowded restaurant) "SPEAK ON SWEET LIPS THAT NEVER TOLD A LIE!". I turned a lovely shade of puce, and made every effort to show that I had never seen this strange man before.
Note: Quality Very Varying (I see what I did there) and sometimes subject to specialist knowledge. So I apologise in advance. Shame me with your better puns.
While I was languishing in the Language Centre, doing some semantics antics and considering how all the other linguistics students despised and derided me, I was accosted by a stout man with large glasses who made me a preposition. It was that I should collect terrible puns, to do with linguistics, in order to ingratiate myself yet further with the other linguistics students (including even the phonetics fanatics).
I'm struggling to think of a pun to do with grammaticality that both makes sense and "Is grandma tickly?" correct. I'm also stuck on 'morphologician'. (I'm not actually sure that's a particularly logical word for the subject, though I guess that's more for, er, more for a logician to worry about.)
The problem I have with writing about phonological variation is that one is constantly forced to choose between being fun or logical - very Asian!I always get in trouble with electricians, they think I'm calling them a 'dialectician' whereas in fact I'm just saying "Die, electrician."
I like pscycholinguistics – the only department of linguistics where it’s acceptable to wear a cycle helmet. My Australian accent is terrible but I like to think my Sath Efrican one is predicate. My favourite accent is Received Pronunciation, because it is the accent chiefly used by invisible Japanese people who are ordered online. When the first recipient of an invisible Japanese person got the parcel, they wrote a complaint saying "Received but can't see Asian" and the name stuck.
Why did the speakers whose native languages weren't English, but whose only shared language was English, but they weren't very good at it and kept on having to stop to think about it, stop talking to one another? They came to an agreement. (Get it? If not, write your answer on a pastecard and paste it to the below address.)
What did the 'a' say to the 'the'? "You definitely are ticklish, 'the'!"
Why was the small man eaten by the large bear, which was proportionately bigger than him? It had, er, relative claws.
I think the reason there are so many speakers of Russian is because they all partake in an activity called "copulae shun". (Ok, ok, I know, that was Pushkin it.)
I know a man called Hillary who can, might, should, did, must, shall and will ride an ox. We call him "Ox Hillary".
I always think the verb 'to be' in the senten
... keep reading on reddit ➡Family out to dinner.
Waiter: "May I start you off with some drinks"
Dad chooses the youngest son, "He'll have a beer, that's what you wanted, right?"
Waiter forces a laugh. Dad laughs at his humor more than anyone else at the table.
(of course this stopped once we all got past 21)
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