Knowledge In Puns

Yeah apparently its full of can-gurus!

I guess I'm suffering from 'stalk home' syndrome.

You could say he was the centaur for disease control

Because it's see-food!

my 11 year old daughter ran in here while cooking greens and dropped that knowledge on us. I couldn't be more proud lol.

edit: just wanted to let those of you who have is awards that I appreciate it! I told my daughter about them and she asked if she can keep telling jokes for me to put on here lol. should get fairly interesting.

thanks all. I hope you had a great turkey gobble day

“Ribbit.”

Not having much knowledge of the animals, he asks the owner to show him around and tell him about different breeds. "Sure, let's go," says the owner, and brings him over to the paddocks.

"So a lot depends on what you want the animal for," he says, and gestures to a powerful stallion running laps. "Over there, you've got your Type A horse: strong, fast, and a little unpredictable, but great if you want to get somewhere in a hurry."

"I think that'd be a little much for me," the man says, and the owner nods, then brings him over to see a mare quietly chomping at some hay in the shade. "This is a Type B horse - tends to be quiet and they're good companions, but not much for doing work."

The man pauses to think about what he wants the animal for, then looks over at a nearby pond and sees a horse swimming and diving over and over again. "What the heck is that one doing?" he asks the owner. "Oh, him? That's a C horse."

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

After a short time, he realizes he is hopelessly lost. He gets hungry, but with no knowledge of a way to gain food, he decides to resort to cannablism. He begins to eat his arm, but soon finds he is satisfied and no longer hungry. This idiot in the woods was full of himself.

After dying in a fatal car crash, 3 nuns end up at the pearly gates and the saint there tells them "Since you're so pure of heart and free of sin you can all go into the Kingdom of Heaven if you answer 3 questions. I'm going to ask you one question each."

The saint turns to the first nun and asks: "Who were the first two humans God created?"

She says: "Adam and Eve!"

She gets into Heaven.

The saint turns to the second nun and asks: "What was the one thing Adam and Eve were told not to do in the Garden of Eden?"

She says: "They weren't allowed to eat the fruit of knowledge!"

She gets into Heaven.

The saint turns to the last nun - the mother superior - and says "Since you're the mother superior my last question is going to be difficult to answer, but if you answer correctly you can get into Heaven. So my question for you is: What was the first thing Eve said to Adam when they realized they were naked?"

Now she has to think a little and as she thinks she's close to conceding, uttering "Gee, that's a hard one..."

The saint lets her right into Heaven.

The End.

Not quite as tragic, but it manifested into something which has haunted me at my job for years.

When I was a little kid learning about the world around me, my dad was naturally the font of all knowledge for me, He would answer all of little snippersmith's questions with his own unique insights and anecdotes teaching me of my surroundings with varying degrees of accuracy.

One day In a picture book, I encountered a photo of one of natures most bizarre creatures, the mighty duck billed platypus. Filled with curiosity of this bizarre creature and an Inability to read a young snippersmith asked his father what this creature was called, To which his father replied,

That's a Quackopotamous.....

As is a highly likely situation in day to day life the Platypus (or indeed the Quackopotamous), did not come into conversation for another 17 years, Until of course the Platypus came into conversation around the lunch table at a now grown up snippersmith's full time place of work.

I have not been allowed to forget I thought the Platypus was called a Quackopotamous, Indeed I am reminded on a daily basis by my colleagues, by my nickname Quackopotamous .

Thanks Dad.

EDIT 1: Holy Cow this took off! Gold! thank you so much.

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

A baker and his wife had a child. A lovely, healthy boy. Since the wife was mad about history, she wanted to give the boy a name suitable for a man destined for great things. Jokes were made, names proposed, but in the end the decision was made - they named the boy Attila.

Attila showed great potential from an early age - he excelled at sports, grew strong, but his other capabilities were astonishing as well. He learned and went through encyclopedias like a fire through forests. Surely enough, he was bound to become a great man some day.

Apart from being an exceptional young man, he loved animals as well. He was kind and compassionate, equally cherishing all forms of life. Since his parents loved him so much, they bought him all he ever wanted - but he did not ask for much, he was never greedy.

Growing up, he has received many animals as pets - there were cats, dogs, hamsters and even exotic animals - tarantulas, snakes, scorpions, you name it.

Their home became a sort of an animal sanctuary, and Attila took care of all animals with love and passion. But, the family business was starting to suffer when his father the baker got ill.

Being the amazing young man he was, Attila stepped up and started learning secrets of the trade - he started baking like no one else.

But, since he devoted his time to the bakery, the animals were starting to be neglected. He tried feeding them, petting them, but nothing helped.

Slowly, one by one the animals passed away leaving behind only the most resistant ones - the snake and a few spiders.

The spiders were easy to take care of, but the snake wouldn't eat, no matter what. Saddened, Attila came to his mother and asked for advice as he was all out of ideas. Of course, being the caring mother she always was, she passed on her knowledge to Attila:

"This anaconda don't want none, unless you got buns, Hun."

A good friend told me a story once. When she was a kid her family would often go to zoos and museums while on vacation. They were in the aviary on one of those visits looking at birds. My friend saw a crow asked the zookeeper a question. "What's the difference between a raven and a crow?" The zookeeper looked at her, smiled and started to answer. "Have you ever heard of a pinion feather?" he said. "Pinions are the the feathers at the tip of a bird's wing that allows it to fly. They are also the ones that people will trim to prevent birds from flying away. Crows have 5 pinion feathers while ravens have 6. So, if you think about it, it's really just a matter of a pinion."

To this day, my friend and her family don't know the real answer to "What's the difference between a crow and a raven?" They are wonderful and intelligent people, but they subscribe to a particular brand of ignorance where a good pun is better than actual knowledge. They call it punorance.

It's some time in the second world war and Hitlers top scientists have built a time machine. Eager to use it, but fearing an accident, the fuhrer instead sends one of his henchman forward to 1985, hoping to gain knowledge of the future to use against his enemies.

Much to Hitlers chagrin however, the henchman quickly returns to the present with only a Casio Keyboard in hand. Breathless with excitement, he declares "Mein Fuhrer! With this device we shall wage sonic warfare on our enemies!"... He hits the demo button and the room is filled with sound.

"So... what do you think?" says the henchman.

Hitler, aghast at this otherworldly device says

"You must be mad Schultz! There's no place in this world for a Nazi Synthesizer!"

So, on Sunday my wife and I were making stir fry for lunch after church. I chopped up some flank steak and test fried a piece in the wok, pulled it out, cut it in two, and we each tried a piece to see how it tasted (in case it needed more ginger or garlic or oyster sauce). This conversation happened.

My wife: (enjoying the flavor) How do couples where one person is a vegetarian handle meals?

Me: I guess the man has a help meet for him like Adam.

Her: I'm being serious, how do they do it.

Me: I know, right? People get married for lots of carnal knowledge.

Her: (annoyed) All kidding aside, I'm curious how people make that work.

Me: Give me some time to flesh out my argument, and I'm sure I can find a couple that hasn't butchered their relationship.

So I stayed with relatives in New Zealand for a while. I had no knowledge of the local places.

They were talking about a certain french style cafe.

Me: What's the cafe called?

Cousin: It's called deja-vu. Do you know it?

Me: Yeah I think I've seen it already.

Silence and faces of clueless people

I even had to explain the joke which kinda made me feel dumb. So I thought that's probably how a dad feels after making one of these jokes.

So my wife and I went to Great Floors looking for tile and generally getting an idea of what we want to finish our basement bathroom and family room with.

The saleswoman points us to this vinyl plank stuff I've never seen before that you just lay down with no glue or anything that is somehow completely waterproof and lifetime guaranteed and all that jazz. She shows us how you need to use a plunger to pry them back up once they are all tight together.

Me. "Wow, I never would have thought this could work.... I'm floored."

In the ensuing groan fest the saleswoman claims to have never heard that one before, I jested that she sounded knowledgeable for someone who obviously hasn't been working in the business very long.

So I treated myself to some new books yesterday from a small local place near me, I decided to stop off at the parents on the way home and the mother had her face in the book bag before I new what was going on.

I'm showing her what I've bought and when opening one of them, I find a small maggot like creature splattered inside one of the covers! The remains of its body on one side, a goopy mess on the other. At this point the father walks past, peers over my shoulder & says 'you know what that is don't you?'. No I replied, thinking I'm going to get some to quality useless dad knowledge laid upon me........'A bookworm' he states! And fully committed to his delivery, walks clear through the kitchen and out to his shed without even a glance back.

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

Paul has a shitty life, his wife constantly berates him, his job sucks, his boss is a bully, his car is a shitty 85 ford pinto with a cracked windshield and is in bad need of a new transmission and to top it all off he's chubby, balding, and he has a small penis.

The only thing good in Paul's life is his friend Artie. Artie isn't the brightest bulb in the world, but he's always been there for Paul in the tough times. On October 5, 1953 Artie stood up for Paul against his bully in 7th grade. Artie got his ass handed to him at that time, but so did Paul. That incident resulted in a life long friendship. Paul and Artie went to the same High School together. They traveled around Europe that one summer in college. Artie was Paul's best man at his wedding. Everyone thought speech Artie gave was terrible, But Paul loved it Artie was his best friend.

Artie's life wasn't much better either, he never had the smarts for that great Job. In fact he was stuck in a dead end job as a construction labourer. Artie's car was pretty shitty too. Artie never married, but he was happy in the knowledge that at least he didn't end up with Paul's shitty wife.

For Paul's 46th birthday Artie was pretty broke, so all he could get his friend was a single lottery ticket. Artie being the sentimental guy that he was picked the date of the start of their friendship, and their respective ages (46, 45). Paul loved the present, and thought that the two of them should go to the Legion that friday to split a round of beers and listen to them call out the numbers.

On Friday they are both sitting there at the Legion having a laugh over a couple of beers when the cute lottery girl comes on the t.v. to read out the numbers. Paul pulls out the ticket and spreads it out on the beer stained table in front of them. The lottery girl starts reading out the numbers, 45, 10, 05. Both of Paul and Artie's hearts start beating, thats 200$ already. 53, Holy crap thats like a 10, 000 ticket. They both start losing their shit. 46....... Paul feints. He just won the jackpot. 37million dollars.

Two minutes later Artie finally revives Paul. Paul and Artie celebrate the night away, buy round after round for the people at the Legion and get absolutely shittered. They close out the bar and as the ugly lights come on they stumble blitzed, singing, onto the street arm in arm with the winning lottery ticket in hand and start the long walk back to Paul's place.

Halfway home, Paul comes to two drunken

I was at the beach and my wife and I were doing a crossword puzzle. She is a teacher and much more vocabularily knowledgable than I am. After filling in a few, one of the words she answered was unknown to me.

Me - "Babe, is that a word?"

Her - "Yalta? it's a city."

Me - "Yalta?" and as nonchalantly as is possible, I say "Why I Yalta."

She confusingly looked at me trying to understand what had just come out. She then laughs, proclaims "you are such an idiot," and continues laughing for a good while after, even to this day. Daily stupid joke quota filled.

The CIA had changed its recruiting practices, what with all the recent leaks and other problems. So Mr. Johnson was more than a little surprised to see a pine tree, which was dressed in a rather nice suit, waiting outside his office when he arrived at 9 am. He asked his secretary, "Gladys, who is this?"

"Mr. Johnson, this is Mr. Cone, our newest hire. He wanted to talk with you about the Honduras assignment."

Mr. Johnson spoke to Mr. Cone in his office. His new pine tree colleague was very knowledgeable and well-spoken, but there was something about him that threw Mr. Johnson off. He tried to dismiss his concerns as imaginary, but it gnawed at him all through the morning. He barely touched his lunch, as some of the things Mr. Cone had said were still swirling around and around in his mind. He was sure something was wrong, so he went in to see the head of their office branch, Mr. Smith.

"Johnson! Come right in, come right in," said Mr. Smith, puffing on a cigar. Mr. Johnson poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped at it nervously.

"You're being rather quiet today, Johnson. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

"It's just this new guy, Mr. Cone," Mr. Johnson said carefully, staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "Are we sure we know him as well as we think we do?"

Mr. Smith took only a small puff from his cigar before letting his hand rest back on his desk. "Now really, Johnson," he sighed, "you're a good agent. Your caution has served you well in the past, but paranoia doesn't look so good on you. Mr. Cone has the most impressive resumé I've seen come across my desk in the last fifteen years. I've personally had him vetted by the best men in the business. He's going to be an asset to this office."

That was the response Mr. Johnson had been afraid of getting, but he continued to press his cause. "I understand that, sir. It's just that I'm getting the strangest feeling from this Cone fellow. Don't you think he's a little too perfect? A little too well-qualified?"

Mr. Smith stopped smoking his cigar altogether. A distant look came into his eyes as he mulled over the possibilities. "You don't suppose--"

"Yes," said Mr. Johnson, "I think he's a plant."

Note: I'm a mom, not a dad, but I'm pretty sure I only thought of this because my father-in-law tortures me with these kinds of stories almost constantly.

So me and my sister were in the car with my dad talking about school. she mentions that her friend had stapled her hand and my dad goes "what was she afraid she'd loose it?". Later she was talking about a general knowledge quiz she had to do, one of the questions was how many people are on a rugby team and my dad responds with "all of them."

MAN LAWS

The International Rules of Manhood

1: Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella.

2: It is OK for a man to cry ONLY under the following circumstances:

(a) When a heroic dog dies to save its master.

(b) The moment Angelina Jolie starts unbuttoning her blouse.

(c) After wrecking your boss' car.

(d) When she is using her teeth.

3: Any Man who brings a camera to a bachelor party may be legally killed and eaten by his buddies.

4: Unless he murdered someone in your family, you must bail a friend out of jail within 12 hours.

5: If you've known a guy for more than 24 hours, his sister is off limits forever unless you actually marry her.

6: Moaning about the brand of free beer in a buddy's fridge is forbidden. However complain at will if the temperature is unsuitable.

7: No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man. In fact, even remembering your buddy's birthday is strictly optional. At that point, you must celebrate at a strip bar of the birthday boy's choice.

8: On a road trip, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the weakest.

9: When stumbling upon other guys watching a sporting event, you may ask the score of the game in progress, but you may never ask who's playing.

10: You may flatulate in front of a woman only after you have brought her to climax. If you trap her head under the covers for the purpose of flatulent entertainment, she's officially your girlfriend.

11: It is permissible to drink a fruity alcohol drink only when you're sunning on a tropical beach... and it's delivered by a topless model and only when it's free.

12: Only in situations of moral and/or physical peril are you allowed to kick another guy in the nuts.

13: Unless you're in prison, never fight naked.

14: Friends don't let friends wear Speedos. Ever. Issue closed.

15: If a man's fly is down, that's his problem, you didn't see anything.

16: Women who claim they "love to watch sports" must be treated as spies until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to drink as much as the other sports watchers.

17: A man in the company of a hot, suggestively dressed woman must remain sober enough to fight.

18: Never hesitate to reach for the last beer or the last slice of pizza, but not both, that's just greedy.

19: If you compliment a guy on his six-pack, you'd better be talking about his choice of beer.

20: Never join your girlfriend or wife in discussing a friend of yours, except if she's withholding

My friend (a girl) was texting her BF (who plays the trombone). This is the conversation:

Her: Hey, wanna come over tonight ;)

Him: Shall I bring my music knowledge?

Her: Why would that matter?

Him: Because I know how to bone in 7 different positions ;)

Ok so my Dad was helping me move into my new uni accommodation last month and in the process we had to carry a lot of heavy boxes up my rather steep stairs.

Understandably, being a man in his 50's, he was a little bit worn out after lugging several metre-by-metre crates up to my room, generally full of heavy electrical equipment and books. After letting out a deep sigh he exhaled - 'Crikey, this is like the Great Stairs Crisis of 1965!'.

To my knowledge, or indeed to anyone else's knowledge (including my dad's), so such crisis ever occurred. I just hope he didn't hear my housemate sniggering in his room downstairs*; he does love a good dad joke.

*Ironically I've noticed that laughing at Dad jokes tends to make said Dad more depressed than when you don't, since they're usually fully aware of how bad their joke is and laughing at it only serves to remind them of the fact that people are actually paying attention to the regrettable nonsense which often leaves their mouths.