Goes to show that it’s important to vote in elections.
No, pigs do that!
Her head and shoulders washed up on the beach.
That low key gave me chills
I guesh I only have myshelf to blame.
Sadly, it was radium poisoning.
A chinchilla chin chiller
It is a chinchilla.
I think he just did it for a tin chin.
The surgery required my bottom jaw being broken and the surgeon was running through how it would be for me afterwards.
Here's the conversation as it went down:
Surgeon - "Have you got any questions?"
Dad - "Yeah, will he be able to play the trumpet afterwards?"
Surgeon - "Yup, there won't be any problems with that"
Dad - "Oh, that's good. He can't play it now"
That's a moray
Brief background: stepdaughter is 20 years old and has always hated when I make puns/dadjokes
So my step daughter just came downstairs heading out for work and just as she's walking out the door I noticed she has only one shoe on.
Me: "Hey! You know you only have one shoe on, right?
Her: "yeah, the other one is in my car"
Me (visibly confused): "uh...ok"
Her: "you might say I'm a step ahead"
The door shuts, my jaw dropped.
I run to the door, open it,
"Was that a pun? did you just make a dad joke?!"
She replies only with a smirk.
I'm so proud.
Socket in the jaw
Today, we are all going to get high
Once upon a time there were three little pigs, Pork Chop, Hambone, and Bacon.
The boys lived at home with their mother. One day their mother said, “I no longer have enough food to feed you boys, you need to go out on your own and find your fortunes.”
Not wanting to upset their mother they left the house together to seek their fortunes.
Several miles into their journey Bacon, the little pig everyone liked best, said, “Let’s build our houses here! This seems like a great place to start making our fortunes.”
Pork Chop and Hambone agreed. So they all began building their houses.
Pork Chop, the laziest of the bunch, decided to build his house out of straw, which he apparently stole from a nearby field. It was not a very sturdy building material, but Pork Chop didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play all day, and he didn’t want to spend too much time building.
Hambone was willing to work a bit harder and he decided to build his house out of sticks which he procured by de-limbing every tree within a 300 meter radius of their homestead.
Hambone and Pork Chop were happy. Now all they had to do was to play and sleep the rest of the day.
Now Bacon was a hard worker. He knew that his brothers had used bad materials and shoddy construction methods and he wanted to build the best house he could. He found several tons of bricks stacked in neatly ordered pallets in the forest which he decided to use for his building material. It took him several days, but when he was done Bacon had the best house on the homestead.
The next day a wolf, Scott Howard, happened upon the pig brothers and their new homestead. He spied the straw house and smelled Pork Chop inside and began to think to himself that Pork Chop would make a mighty fine meal, so Scott went and knocked on the door.
Scott said, “Little Pig! Little Pig! Let me in!”
Pork Chop replied, “No way José! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”
Scott, undeterred by the reply says, “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crappy straw house to the ground!”
Scott began to huff and puff. He was evidently having some sort of asthma attack, but after a few tugs from his handy dandy rescue inhaler, he was able to muster enough wind to blow Pork Chops straw house to the ground.
Pork Chop narrowly escaped Scott’s massive jaws. Scared, and now homeless, Pork Chop ran for the nearest shelter he could see. Hambone’s house.
Scott, undeterred, chased Pork Chop to his new hiding place. Scott was very pleas... keep reading on reddit ➡
The other muffin's jaw drops in shock as it exclaims: "Whoa! A talking muffin!"
The girl I want to ask to homecoming is in a dentistry program and I want to make a poster board with some cheesy puns on it to ask her, but I can't think of anything past "Brace yourself with homecoming."
I broke my jaw, my cheek bone and cracked my skull in 2 spots.
It's funny because it's true.
Always wear your helmet.
A little context: I'm driving around in Yellowstone with my dad and my girlfriend. My dad went on a three week cross country ski winter camping trip when he was 17 in Yellowstone. We are currently talking about whether or not it is important to carry bear spray.
Dad: "Did I ever tell you about that time I woke up a bear on my ski trip?"
Me: "What?! No, that's crazy, what happened?"
Dad: "Well, we were skiing through an open field when we hear a rumbling from about 100 yards behind us, and we turn back and there's a huge bear, and he looks at us and starts lumbering in our direction. At the time, I was with this girl who was not a very good skier, but we were pretty sure black bears can't climb trees, so we start hustling towards the woods. So I'm pulling her along and this bear is gaining on us but we get to the closest climbable tree and the bear is still 50 yards back. Like I said, she wasn't a very good skier, or really very coordinated in general, so I help boost her up into the tree and she's up there and she's pretty safe, but this took a minute and a lot of my energy. So now the bear is only about 15 feet away, and I've still got my skis on, and, you know, back then we didn't have fancy cross country skis, we had these big metal cable bindings and leather lace up boots, so I definitely don't have time to get them off. And I'm so exhausted from dragging this girl across the field and then shoving her up into the tree that I've got almost nothing left, and the first branch is about 8 feet off the ground. But this bear is coming at me and there's nothing I can do but jump for it, so I leap and pull myself up and over the branch using everything I've got right as the bear lunges for me and bites into my ski boot. So here I am, doubled over this branch with a bear's jaws on my foot, my skis on, and not one ounce of energy left, and he's really sinking his teeth in and he's really just pulling my leg just like I'm pulling yours!"
The Duke of Dance: If i don't stop soon, you're really gonna have a bone to pick with me.
The Duke of Dance: I need to stop being such a numbskull.
The Duke of Dance: help.
Sans: I gotta write these down.
The Duke of Dance: I don't have enough backbone to deal with my own shit
The Duke of Dance: but that's tibea expected.
Sans: I find this humerus.
The Duke of Dance: damn
The Duke of Dance: stole my next one.
The Duke of Dance: I'm not fibulaing you when i say, i'm running out of material. I'm really trying to think of more puns here, but i'm patellaing you, i'm out.
Sans: I don't even know this many bone names.
The Duke of Dance: My cranium is empty. i'm running bone-dry here.
The Duke of Dance: But you'r quite sternum in your wanting of these puns.
The Duke of Dance: don't worry, i'll stop temporalily. Not really tho.
The Duke of Dance: I'm taking these puns to the maxilla.
Sans: Can you make a pelvis pun?
The Duke of Dance: Not really. I can't think of any. So no hip hip hooray here.
Sans: That was alright.
The Duke of Dance: Are you having a femury time?
The Duke of Dance: I find myself sacruming to the need to make puns.
The Duke of Dance: helpican'tstop
Sans: I'm having a pun time.
The Duke of Dance: I'm gonna turbinate my puns, cuz i'm on my last leg-bones here.
The Duke of Dance: i'm getting desperate, you can tell.
The Duke of Dance: I didn't name a specific bone.
The Duke of Dance: Which is almost completely mandableitory.
The Duke of Dance: I have made more puns tonight than i have in a LONG time.
The Duke of Dance: Throw me a bone here, have i made enough skeleton puns?
Sans: There will never be enough skeleton puns. Mind makin' a list for me?
The Duke of Dance: Do
The Duke of Dance: Do you want me to write everything i just said down for you?
The Duke of Dance: I'm quivering at the thought of coming up with more skeleton puns.
Sans: I don't see any arrows.
Sans: Don't be a lazy bones, come up with more.
The Duke of Dance: I'll see you later, my vertebrah.
Sans: Have you any backbone?
The Duke of Dance: I already made that one.
The Duke of Dance: :3
Sans: SCREW IT, I'M MAKING ANOTHER
The Duke of Dance: Not so easy coming up with fresh material, is it?
The Duke of Dance: Also, "quiver" is another name for one of your joints.
The Duke of Dance: I'm just really looking at medical sites for this shit.
Sans: CURSE YOU GOOGLE.
The Duke of Dance: it's tibea expected. <Favorite skeleton pun, using it again... keep reading on reddit ➡
Being a father of my own, I'm still envious of the masterful skill in which my dad can come up with his material. While driving down the interstate, a Miller Lite truck pulls out in front of us, more quickly than he should. My dad swerved to the left to avoid my door from getting broad sided by a tractor trailer. I yelled from being startled.
Me: He almost hit us!
Dad: We're fine. I can handle this.
Me: He almost totaled the car! What if he had hit us? I could be dead!
Dad: Nah, you would've been fine. It was Lite beer.
Me: (jaw dropped in awe and amazement)
Introducing my first girlfriend to the grandparents.
Me: "Grandpa, this is my girlfriend Amy." Grandpa: "Nice to meet you Amy." (to me) "I don't know what you were talking about. She is very pretty!" Me: jaw drops
It was the other week and my better half had just left town for a holiday. So on the way back from the airport (less than 10 minutes wifey free) the 5 of us where already arguing. Any way my 14 year old son was whistling just to be annoying to my 6year old daughter. So i went down the track of, "Look mate, when you start doing something to piss people off, your an arsehole and nobody likes an arsehole" and less than half a second later my older daughter chips in "Unless your gay". I was driving and my jaw just dropped.
I just didn't know what to say, 'technically' she was correct but damn was I pissing myself on the inside.
The sun shone into my office through the lowered blinds all clumsy like, fumbling through the gaps between the venetian slats like a drunk fishing for loose change in his pockets; trying to see if he has money enough for one last drink or maybe the bus ride home.
The dame looked me up and down, clearly disappointed by what sat in front of her. I didn’t blame her. Three days of salt and pepper stubble clung to my my crude boxer’s jaw and the bags under my eyes were so big half the bums downtown could sleep in there and not even know anyone else was with 'em. That was ok. This broad wasn’t hiring me for my looks and I wasn’t looking to her for approval. We both knew what brought her in here, it was the name on the door.
Max Dad P.I. - that’s me. Private Investigator’s sure not the profession my mother would have picked out for me, but it keeps me in whisky and it keeps a roof over my head and that’ll do for now. The dame parted those cherry red lips of hers as she took another pull on that just-lit cigarette and nervously stubbed it out in the ashtray. My eyebrows knit together slightly. I hate seeing things go to waste.
“So as I was saying, Mr Dad,” she began.
“Please, call me Max”
“Alright, Max… well, as I was saying, my bag is missing. Stolen, I think. I urgently need it back. Shall I describe it to you?”
“No that’s alright miss. You got nothing to worry about,” I replied, sliding a bottle out of the desk drawer and pouring a big slug of scotch into to my morning coffee, “I’m sure it’ll be a brief case.”
A dentist asked his patient to open wide. What happened next is jaw-dropping
My dad loved it
I have written this book to sweep away all misunderstandings about the crafty art of punnery and to convince you that the pun is well worth celebrating.... After all, the pun is mightier than the sword, and these days you are much more likely to run into a pun than into a sword. [A pun is a witticism involving the playful use of a word in different senses, or of words which differ in meaning but sound alike.]
Scoffing at puns seems to be a conditioned reflex, and through the centuries a steady barrage of libel and slander has been aimed at the practice of punning. Nearly three hundred years ago John Dennis sneered, “A pun is the lowest form of wit,” a charge that has been butted and rebutted by a mighty line of pundits and punheads.
Henry Erskine, for example, has protested that if a pun is the lowest form of wit, “It is, therefore, the foundation of all wit.” Oscar Levant has added a tag line: “A pun is the lowest form of humor—when you don’t think of it first.” John Crosbie and Bob Davies have responded to Dennis with hot, cross puns: “...If someone complains that punning is the lowest form of humor you can tell them that poetry is verse.”
Samuel Johnson, the eighteenth century self-appointed custodian of the English language, once thundered, “To trifle with the vocabulary which is the vehicle of social intercourse is to tamper with the currency of human intelligence. He who would violate the sanctities of his mother tongue would invade the recesses of the national till without remorse... ”
Joseph Addison pronounced that the seeds of punning are in the minds of all men, and tho’ they may be subdued by reason, reflection, and good sense, they will be very apt to shoot up in the greatest genius, that which is not broken and cultivated by the rules of art.
Far from being invertebrate, the inveterate punster is a brave entertainer. He or she loves to create a three-ring circus of words: words clowning, words teetering on tightropes, words swinging from tent tops, words thrusting their head into the mouths of lions. Punnery can be highly entertaining, but it is always a risky business. The humor can fall on its face, it can lose its balance and plunge into the sawdust, or it can be decapitated by the snapping shut of jaws. While circus performers often receive laughter or applause for their efforts, punsters often draw an obligatory groan for theirs. But the fact that most people groan at, rather than laugh at, puns doesn’t mean that the punnery isn’t fu... keep reading on reddit ➡
I was telling my dad about my JAWS essay that is due in a couple of days and this is the conversation that followed.
Me: I'm writing out my JAWS essay.
Dad: Ok sounds a bit fishy.
Me:That's a terrible joke.
Dad: Hook line and sinker
ME: Stahp. I can't handle the dad jokes anymore.
Dad: Holy mackerel he's growing up
Me: You seriously can't make anymore up.
Dad: I'm having a whale of a time.