In Search Of... Puns

He was a naan believer.

Oh, nevermint, I found it.

Lettuce know.

I need puns to go with this girl's name. Her name is Fallon. Thanks.

It truly amazes me how they stay in business when it's always freezing there

"You see that steeple on that church over there? Yeah, I hit it."

Things took a turn for the wurst.

He says: "so they made a sequel to this called in search of linguini"

"..."

Now she's a small medium at large.

There once was this fella was born with a silver screw in his belly button. His parents, and later himself, searched far and wide trying to find someone that knew how this happened and how to remove it. As he grew older he cared less and less about the "how" and more about the removal. One day in his never-ending search he encountered a wizened woman who said that she knew of a place where you could go and a mysterious force would be able to remove the screw. But, before she provided the location she asked him if this was REALLY something he wanted done and if he knew all the consequences of his desire. The man hastily said that he was 10000% sure and more than well informed of the consequences. So, she gave him the location of the cave and the instructions on how to gain the help of the mysterious force. He was to go to the cave and sleep nude in the cave over night and by the morning his request would be fulfilled. He made his way to the spot with all due haste and followed the instructions to the letter. He did this and fell into a sound sleep. During the night a heavy fog rolled into the cave and a shining silver screwdriver floated into the cave with it. It floated down to the man and gently removed the screw. When the man woke up in the morning and saw the screw on the ground beside him he quickly reached down and felt his belly button. The screw was gone! He sprung up with great joy but the minute he landed after his leap of joy his butt fell off. He froze in horror and started to scream "Why did my butt fall off?" over and over.

The moral of the story is "Don't mess with things you don't understand or you will lose your butt."

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

Knowing a slam book could not be replaced I tried consoling him, but I remembered digitalized it for him a year ago I quickly logged on to the PC to check if I had a backup. He quickly smiled and said it had a Blue cover, after about 10mins of searching I asked him if he remembered what I named the book. He burst out and said Facebook.

Frustrated I left the room to find my entire family sitting in the hall, and my mother goes "He did it to you too, didn't he"

And I'm here perplexed by the lengths a dad would go for his jokes.

The sheriff decided that he needed to stop them so he rounded up his deputies and they rode out in search of the gang.

After a couple of days everyone was tired and hungry so one of the deputies rode up to sheriff and said “Look sheriff we are all too tired, why don’t you guys rest up here and I’ll ride 4 miles north and two miles east and see if I can’t find us some grub?, I’ll be back by morning”

The sheriff agrees and off the deputy rides 4 miles north and two miles east.

The next morning the deputy returns with all his packs full of bacon! The sheriff says “where the hell did you get all that bacon out here in the middle of nowhere!”

Deputy says “well you see sheriff I rode 4 miles north and 2 miles east and I swear to god there’s this bacon tree just sitting there! A tree that is full of bacon!”

“Bullshit!” Says the sheriff “you stay here I’m going to check this out!”

So off the sheriff rides the same as the deputy did.

The next morning the deputy see’s the sheriff crawling towards the camp with arrows sticking out of his back.

Deputy says to the sheriff “ Boss what the hell happened!”

The sheriff looks up from the ground and says “BACON TREE, BACON TREE, that wasn’t a damn bacon tree you idiot it was a Hambush!”

A man is walking into an expensive restaurant when he is stopped by the Maitre'D, who tells him that he can't be admitted without a necktie. The man, late for his appointment, runs back out to his car and searches high and low. Finally, out of desperation, he grabs a set of jumper cables, ties them into a rough knot around his neck and runs back into the restaurant. The Maitre'D stares at him for a few seconds and finally says, "Alright, I'll let you in..." and then leans in and says in a low growl, "but you'd better not try to start anything."

That the joke about the 5 minute walk to the pub can be posted NINE TIMES IN FOUR DAYS.

Why can't people just search the sub and check if something has been posted recently before posting? It's not difficult!

I know the sub doesn't have a specific rule about reposts, and the occasional repost allows people who missed a joke the first time to see it again, but this joke has moved into the realm of spam.

Please, admins, take action against this lazy, karma-whoring abuse of this sub.

Okay, so this is my first post, so be gentle there. It s more a funny thing my dad did to mess with us than a dad joke. Our parents explained it to us , so i don t have the dialogues here. When we were little, my brother and I of course asked my parents how do we make babies, because we wanted a little bro or sis and they did not wanted us to get one. So we asked them how babies are made. They explained to us that you need 3 things ; a mother's belly , dad's seeds and a little bit of love. That was cute, they said that daddy had to put his seeds in mummy 's belly with the love. When we asked how, they told us to guess -this is why we thought babies were made by the bellybutton, they did really had fun with us- and then, finally, we asked them why they would not make us a little brother then. My father, had this brilliant idea to mess with us, which we sometimes did not notice, as we were little. He basically told us with a huge smile accros his face :" You know what ? If you find the good seeds, we'll make you one". My mother laughed but we took it seriously. We have apparently searched for hours even going in the basement, searching in mom's gardening seeds, ripping of the labels and bringing them to the parents to ask if these were the good ones . We eventually got fed up, and never asked my parents to have a sibling again.

I’m about to ask a friend of mine to Prom, and she’s an exchange student from Denmark. She’s also a huge fan of puns.

Thus, I’ve come to the finest community of Reddit in search of a good Denmark pun. What’s your best??

The insect police force was tracking one of these malaria-mosquitos, when the mosquito fled to a farm. First, she tried to hide in the house, until the farmer chased her away with a newspaper. She tried to hide in the barn with the horses, but the barn cat took a few swipes at the mosquito, and chased it from the barn.

Finally, the mosquito set eyes on sheep in the pasture.she decided all that thick wool would be the perfect place to hide from the insect police force.

The police force arrived shortly after. They first went to the house. No mosquito. They searched the horses. No mosquito. Finally, they got to the pasture with the sheep. After searching and searching, they could not find where the mosquito had hidden.

The mosquito was on the lamb.

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...

She was talking about having guacamole for the super bowl and we were talking about going to trader joe's.

Me: Trader Joe's has some pretty good guac that we could pick up.

Her: No way, I make my own. I'm in search of perfection.

Me: So you not only talk the talk, you also guac the guac?

My 5 year old stepson was sitting next to my wife on the couch, and a devious idea crossed mind. I called the boy over after a quick Googling and showed him the product of my search. He asked what it was, and I promptly told him they were boobies. I looked at the wife in time to see this amazing look of terror wash over her face. Still shocked, he says, "Hey Momma, want to see some boobies?" He grabs my tablet and shows her a picture of the most beautiful, soft looking blue footed boobies I could find. Her initial shock quickly turned to laughter and I was satisfied.

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

If your onion sang hip-hop, would that be a rapscallion?

I used to be an astronaut, but I got tired of eating out of satellite dishes. I wasn't allowed to eat the Milky Way, even though I had to look at it every day. The worst thing was, I never got to visit The Space Bar. Then, when I was visiting the dark side of the moon, I was bitten by a parasite. Now, you might think it's crazy, but the doctor who removed it called it a lunar-tick.

If "womb" is pronounced "woom" and "tomb" is pronounced "toom", shouldn't "bomb" be pronounced "boom"?

China recently tested a new steroid. It basically turns you into The Hulk. The side effect is it could turn you into a crazed zombie that tends to rip the upper extremities from people. People are saying that this could be the zombie apocalypse. In my opinion, lips have nothing to do with it. I call it ARMageddon. The only way to stay safe now is to not let anyone close enough to disarm you.

I recently was going to join the railroad union. I decided against it because it's complicated. If I received instruction on driving the locomotive, would they call it engineering, or training?

I got a sad story about a flower. I don't know who the heck she pissed off, but damn, now she's a Black-Eyed Susan.

I finally figured out what makes leaves angry. Fall. They get so mad they change color. Some are yellow. They're just afraid and run from their problems. The other ones usually just leave.

I went parachuting with my military buddies once. We landed on a department store. I told him I think we're at the wrong coordinates. He said: "Nope. We're right on Target"

I asked a psychologist if Native Americans have strong emotions. He said "Oh yeah, they're intense".

If a psychotic person thought something made sense, would that thought be psychological?

If Matt Damon were searching for a secondhand store, would he be Goodwill Hunting?

My friend is a Marksman for the military. One day, he went to the armory and asked for 3 snipers. They gave him a candy bar. It was a 3 Musketeers.

I want to be there if Dwayne Johnson ever uses a pizza stone. That way I can smell what "The Rock" is cookin'.

Christopher bought a lemon, and the car broke down. Now Christopher Walken.

Have you heard about the latest bank battle on Wall Street? Capital One and Chase got in a fight and Capital One.

You know what a pirate says to his wenches when he sees the shoreline? "LAND HO!"

A man finds a lamp in the desert and dusts it off. Poof! A genie p

So this is a bit long, sorry about that.

Zorro and his best bud the Lone Ranger were riding through the desert one day, I forget where they were heading to or where they had come from, but we can safely assume shenanigans of some kind were the driving force.

They have been travelling for most of the day and are starting to get tired. There has been a discussion about making camp for the night, but as things are they have agreed to continue riding for a while longer, till the sun starts to set. Away and off to the west the Lone Ranger spies a plant that seems to have large pink flowers that hang in strips with white stripes running the length of them.

"Zorro, what's that over there?" he asks.

Zorro turns in his saddle and raises his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "Ah, it looks like a bacon tree, quite common in these parts. Let's ride on, there is a good place an hour from now to set up camp."

The two friends ride on and as the sun is beginning to descend the have stopped and are making camp. As Zorro begins to make a fire he says to the Lone Ranger, "You know, I quite fancy some pork. You ride back to that bacon tree and get some for supper, and I'll finish setting up camp here."

"No problem Zorro, I won't be long" replies the Ranger, jumping back into the saddle and returning the way they came.

Time passes, and the sun begins to get low in the sky. 'Odd', thinks Zorro 'he should be back by now.' Another hour passes and the shadows are growing longer. 'I might have to go investigate, it's not like him to take his time.' More time passes, and, just as Zorro has decided that he must go search for his friend in the dwindling light, he hears the sound of Silver's hooves. Looking into the gathering gloom he sees his friend riding towards him. As the Lone Ranger nears Zorro can see the Lone Ranger is injured, there are cuts and bruises and he has an arrow through his hat.

"What on earth happened, Lone Ranger? Did you make it to the Bacon tree?"

The Lone Ranger dismounts and sighs heavily.

"That weren't no Bacon tree, Zorro. That was an Hambush."

My grandfather was a farmer and he loved getting dressed up every year for the local fair and exhibiting his prize chickens.

For this occasion, my grandmother would spend the entire year searching through thrift shops looking for silly neckties for him to wear, and she loved finding ones with chickens on them.

When he died a couple of years ago, he bequeathed them to me in his will. When my grandmother handed me the bag full of them, my eyes welled with tears and I smiled thinking about my grandfather looking in the mirror and straightening his tie.

Why am I telling you all of this back story? Because the last time I tried to tell this to someone and I didn't give context, they thought it was weird that I was so excited about inheriting my dead grandfather's hen tie collection.

The Englishman and Cowboy were tied in a contest of who was better, when the crowd decided that, as a tie breaker, they were to perform a live poem and incorporate the words "Hunting" and "Timbuktu."

The Englishman went first:

"The hunting is always grand, When in search of good land. Off in the caravan we pursue, Looking, for Timbuktu."

The crowd went wild, knowing that the cowboy couldn't win the contest, the Englishmans poem was just too good. He smiled as well, and stood aside for the cowboy.

The cowboy paused for a moment as if remembering something, then recited:

"Well it was Tim and I, off huntin we went, When I spied three women in a tent. I motioned to Tim, and he saw them too, Then I bucked one, and Timbuktu."

The king of a small African nation had an elegant golden throne in his large grass hut. When an old friend came to visit from another nation, he was worried that the man would discover he was a king and treat him differently. He searched frantically for a place to hide the throne, but to no avail. Finally, he decided to have it wedged up in the ceiling of his hut.

When his friend arrived, he went to the hut's opening to greet him. Just then, the ceiling started to give way, and the golden throne fell on the king and killed him.

The moral of the story is this: People who live in grass houses should not stow thrones.

It goes where no man has gone before in search of the dreaded Klingons

She left a note saying "I'm leaving tonight for a new life"

The two of them try to track her down, but all efforts fail to find exactly where she is. They search all of the Americas, Europe, Asia, Antarctica, and Australia with no luck, so they ask Toto to help out.

Eventually, using process of elimination, Toto says to Seinfeld and Kramer, "I guess Elaine's down in Africa."

EDIT: Added bits to clarify and help set up the joke. I thought of it this morning after 1.5 hours of sleep so it wasn't well-written at all.

An ancient Babylonian general was involved in a plot to overthrow the king. But, the plot was uncovered, and the king threw him in jail.

The general managed to escape and he fled to a ziggurat several kilometers away to meet his followers. Unfortunately, the ziggurat was one of several in the area, and he wasn't sure his men would find the right one. So, the fugitive general lit a small fire to signal them.

The other generals of the king's army saw the smoke coming from the ziggurat, and they rushed over and killed him.

The moral of the story?

The searching general has determined that smoking ziggurats can be extremely hazardous to your stealth.

when there was a terrible accident. The fire in his forge had gone out of control and set fire to the shop. The blacksmith nearly lost his life. He was bedridden for many months and relied on the help of his children and grandchildren to feed him, bathe him, and take care of all of his needs. Eventually he was able to get back on his feet, though his outlook on life had turned quite grim. He was now able to take care of himself, but he had lost much of his strength and dexterity from the injuries he sustained and he was unable to practice his trade. He fell into a deep depression and he spent most of his days sitting at home in front of the fireplace gazing into the flames, longing for the days when his strong hands could grasp a hammer and strike a hot piece of iron, slowly forging it into a beautiful piece of work.

One evening when the old man was sitting in front of the fire, he heard a knock at the door. It was his granddaughter, whom he hadn't seen in many months. She had overheard her father talking to her mother about how her grandfather was slowly slipping away into depression and hopelessness and she wanted to help. To the old man's surprise, she had brought him a puppy. "I thought that since you're always here all by yourself that you might want someone you keep you company," the granddaughter said. The old man's eyes welled up with tears and the little puppy instantly jumped into his arms and began licking the tears from his face. The old man and his granddaughter spent the next several hours sitting on the floor of his house watching the puppy chase around a rubber ball, bouncing, jumping, panting, and licking. In that short time, the old man had made complete turnaround from being sad, lonely, and hopeless, to smiling from ear to ear, full of joy with his new-found companion. As the hours grew late and the puppy grew tired, the granddaughter said "Well Opa, I'm glad you like your puppy, but it's late and I should be heading home. By the way, what are you going to call him?" "Life," said the old man, "because he has given me a new meaning and joy to mine." The granddaughter kissed her grandfather on the cheek, wished him goodnight, and she left.

Many years passed and all the while, the old man and his little dog were inseparable. Everywhere the old man went, Life was always with him whether it was the post office, the grocery store, and even when the old man went to the barber shop, the little dog would sit patiently until the last hair on

An ancient Babylonian general was once involved in a plot to overthrow the king. His plot included a number of followers in the upper ranks of the army. However, his plot was uncovered, and the king threw him in jail. The king sentenced him to death without a trial.

However, from the jail he was able to secretly contact his followers to arrange to escape, meet his followers, and attack the king's palace at night. So the night before his scheduled execution, the general managed to escape from prison. He fled to a ziggurat several kilometers away, where his followers would meet him. However, the ziggurat was one of several in the area, and he wasn't sure if his cohorts would find the right ziggurat. By this time it was twilight, so he lit a small fire and sent smoke signals to indicate in which structure he was hiding.

However, the king's loyal soldiers saw the smoke coming from the ziggurat, and came to arrest him before he could meet his followers. He was executed later that day.

The moral of the story? WARNING: The searching general has determined that smoking ziggurats can be extremely hazardous to your stealth.

Two naturalists spent the bulk of their lives studying bears in the Soviet Union. One was from Czechoslovakia and the other from Poland. When the USSR fell in December 1991 they were both old men, but they were excited about the prospect of finally getting the chance to study grizzlies in America. That following Spring they made arrangements to travel to Yellowstone to finally see the grizzlies.

When they arrived and informed the park rangers of their plan the rangers were alarmed, telling the scientists, "You can't go now. It's mating season, and the bears are very aggressive." But the former Soviets were insistent. "Please," they said, "We must go. We've waited our whole lives. We may never get another chance." Realizing the men couldn't be dissuaded, the rangers gave them a radio with instructions to report in with their location every day. The scientists set out, and for several days they reported dutifully that all was well.

On the third day, though, they failed to report in. Anxiously, the rangers sent out a search party to the scientists' last known location.

Unfortunately, the rangers discovered a bloody mess when they found the men's camp, and the tracks of two bears, a male and a female, leading off into the woods.

The rangers followed the tracks until suddenly they came upon the female grizzly, her muzzle still crimson with blood. They shot her and conducted an autopsy on the spot, sadly finding the remains of the Polish scientist inside her stomach.

"You know what this means, don't you?" said one ranger to the other. "Yes," the other replied, "The Czech is in the male."

but after hours of searching for one in my area, I had no success, so I finally found it difficult..

A man from Spain visiting the US walked into a clothes store. He said to the clerk, "Quiero comprar unos calcetines, por favor." Unfortunately, the clerk didn't speak Spanish, and the Spaniard didn't speak English. They searched all around the store, the clerk pointing to various items, hoping to find what the foreign customer wanted.

He pointed at jackets, but the foreigner shook his head and said "No quiero chaquetas." Then he pointed at shirts, but the client was not satisfied and said "No quiero ni camisas." The clerk pointed at sweaters, pants, shoes... but the Spaniard said he didn't want "ni sudaderas, ni pantalones, ni zapatos...".

They couldn't come across the item the shopper needed. Finally, the clerk points to a table of socks, and the man from Spain exclaimed with joy, "¡Eso sí que es!" The clerk exploded in anger, shouting "If you could spell it, why didn't you say it before?!"

A 22 year-old man was obsessed with tractors, so much so that he had no social life outside of his fascination with farm machinery. His mother eventually intervened, forcing him to throw away all of his tractor merchandise and ordered him to find himself a girlfriend.

The man went to a bar that night in search of a partner and encountered a beautiful blonde. After exchanging pleasantries, the two moved outside in order to have a proper conversation away from the music. As they ventured into the smoking area, the woman complained that she hated the cigarette fumes which had engulfed them. Without flinching, the man took a huge, deep breath and inhaled all of the second-hand smoke in the vicinity.

Staring on in amazement, the woman asks how he could possibly have removed the smoke from the room.

The man turns back to her and replies: "I'm an ex tractor fan"

My dad told me this spooky Halloween story when I was young, I remembered it today and thought I would share it:

On one spooky Halloween night, a man decided to travel to the graveyard all by himself, armed with only a flashlight, and a thirst for adventure. He scoured the graveyard in search of ghosts, but after a long time searching, was disappointed that he couldn’t find one.

Just when he was beginning to get disheartened, he heard this awful sound from behind! The sound was deep, scratchy, and bellowing. It was the distinct sound of a coffin! The man was terrified. Naturally, he took off running! But No matter how far or fast he ran, he couldn’t escape the coffin. Everywhere he went, the coffin roared, deep, scratchy, and bellowing.

Just when he could run no more, he found himself trapped. The coffin closed in on him, getting louder and louder as it approached.

So what did he do?

He did what any man would do in this situation! He pulled out his Vick’s 44d cough syrup and stopped that awful coffin!

They both circle Uranus in search of cling-ons.

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

We're watching the part near the end where the one lifeboat goes back to search for survivors, and everyone's frozen to death and just floating around the ocean. In the midst of this somber, haunting moment, my dad turns to me and says, "A lot of people named bob, huh?"

So I was talking to my Dad about his work (Law Enforcement) and the transporting of criminals and how the searches work and how people could say things like "We found a pair of scissors in his rectum" to which my dad says "Rectum? They could have killed him."