Force Works Puns

iMoral

E-mow

Key Of C.

‍🚀🌕 ‍ELON TWEET HYPE, BUT WITH LEGIT LONG TERM DEVS . 🌕 ‍🚀
Strap in and get ready to launch.

This was created by a professional dev team of HOGL And BUFFTOWN (Developers of HOGL and Shield) They are dedicating their spare time to launch this as a meme project that will explode. Get in. We’re going to run this long term for listings on both CMC and Gecko.
Cybertruck Prototype has an ambitious core team of experienced Crypto veterans, all working day and night ( I mean this, we actually forced one to stay up well past his bed time while in the voice channel. ) to make sure we get to the moon fast, and safe.

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ 4.6MM 24Hour Volume⭐️⭐️ ⭐️
⭐️ Market Cap as of typing this 2.3MM⭐️

INCOMING CATALYSTS:

CMC LISTING: Coming soon.

COINGECKO LISTING: Coming Soon

SNL TONIGHT and the CyberTruckPrototype itself being the star of the show in NYC.

This is NOT a P&D. Liquidity is LOCKED, and ownership RENOUNCED.

CONTRACT RENOUNCED:
bscscan /address/0xf340e33aef552c836b4538ba09bbfccd5f42fa17#readContract

⭐️ Contract:

bscscan /token/0xf340E33aef552C836b4538BA09bBfCcd5f42fa17

⭐️ CHART:

poocoin /tokens/0xf340e33aef552c836b4538ba09bbfccd5f42fa17

⭐️ Website
Cybertruck . financial

⭐️ Telegram

t me /CyberTruckPrototypeOfficial

⭐️ Twitter

twitter /officialcybert

⭐️ Reddit
r /CyberTruckPrototype

There was once a boy. He was the son of the richest man in the universe. Mark Zuckerberg, Bill Gates, he dwarfed them all. He was a multi-trillionaire. Now, it was this boy's birthday. His father asked him,

"My son. I am the richest man in the universe. I could buy you anything you want for your birthday. A store full of lego, all the video games in the world, anything. What would you like?"

His son replied.

"Oh father. It would make me the happiest boy in the world if you could get me one pink ping pong ball."

His father was rather confused by this request. Out of all the things he could've chosen, his son chose a ping pong ball. Nonetheless, he agreed and gave him a pink ping pong ball. His son was overjoyed and spoke to him.

"My father, you have made me the happiest boy in the world. May I go up to my room and play with my pink ping pong ball?"

"Okay son, go ahead."

The boy then went up to his room and played with his pink ping pong ball. When his father went in the next morning to check on him, the boy was sleeping in his bed and the pink ping pong ball was nowhere to be found.

On the boy's next birthday, his father asked him again.

"My son. I am the richest man in the universe. I could buy you anything you want for your birthday. What would you like?"

His son replied.

"Oh father. It would make me the happiest boy in the world if you could get me one box full of pink ping pong balls."

His father was again, confused by this. Still, he bought a cardboard box and filled it with ping pong balls. He gave it to his son, who said.

"My father, you have made me the happiest boy in the world. May I go up to my room and play with my pink ping pong balls?"

The father nodded, and the son went up to his room to play. The next morning when his father went to check, the boy was sleeping peacefully and there were no pink ping pong balls in sight. Just the empty cardboard box in the middle of the room.

On the boy's next birthday, his father asked him again.

"My son. I am the richest man in the universe. I could buy you anything you want for your birthday. What would you like?"

"Oh father. It would make me the happiest boy in the world if you could get me one truck full of ping pong balls."

Now, by this point, the father was extremely confused. Why did the boy want so many pink ping pong balls and where were they going? He asked.

"My son. You are the most precious thing in the world to me and I can certainly get you this, but may I ask, why do you want

One was named Michael White and the other Kevin Wong. Together, they formed a good-cop-bad-cop team known as White and Wong.

When White was killed in the line of duty, Wong's brother joined the force, but it was never quite the same. After all, two Wongs don't make a White.

EDIT: I am now closing applications and will make a decision in the next day or so. Thank you to everybody who applied - the general enthusiasm and support is wonderful to see.

( as this is a self post, I receive no karma - however I would appreciate it if you upvoted purely for visibility <3 )

Hey everybody,

The /r/dadjokes community is now over 85,000 subscribers strong. That's pretty great. Pretty super great.

Thus far, over the entire existence of this sub, I have been the only mod. Quietly watching, taking your feedback, removing a post here, approving another there - doing my best not to interfere too much. I'm going to be honest, it hasn't been that hard.

You lot are generally a pretty nice bunch, give or take a few of the more vocal lunatics. There isn't usually a lot of work to be done, or issues that need resolving.

That said, I'm not awake all the time. I can't lurk on Reddit all the time. I don't have all-seeing eyes.

So it's about time I gave another pair of eyes moderator status and entrusted those eyes with a duty of care.

Let's get down to the chase; here's what I'm looking for in an additional mod:

• You live in a very different timezone to Syd, AU - GMT+10
• You have a good sense of humour
• You're not in this purely to grow your 'net rep
• You're interested in being fair, and maintaining fairness
• You maintain civility in yourself and your responses at all times
• You have a bit of time every day to go through reports, spam, and post comments
• You understand that your moderatorship will initially be a trial, and can be revoked at any time if you aren't being magical and rad
• Some general CSS/subreddit formatting knowledge wouldn't go astray, but is not required

Here's what I am not looking for:

• Strong, cemented opinions about what constitutes a dad joke and what doesn't - everybody's dad and humour is different
• An overzealous post remover - I am not looking for an enforcer, the title moderator implies moderation
• A(nother) dictator - it is my preference that this subreddit be gently guided, and not forcibly ruled, we let the community find itself and we listen to what they say

If you wish to apply for the title and duty of being a moderator to /r/dadjokes, simply state your case (why you should be selected, what benefits or experience you bring, etc) in a comment reply to this thread. I will then get in touch with the most worthy seeming applicants. Upvotes and downvites will not be taken int

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

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."

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.

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