One Thousand Thousand Puns

My wife told me to get over it cause it was just one byte.

To be sure. I’ll let myself out.....

...because you shouldn't put metric prefixes on Troy units.

The grand canyon.

While giving a speech to support his brother Jeb!'s run for the White House, he talked about how he'd been a tree farmer ever since he retired from the presidency.

He said it was great because it gave him a lot of opportunities to practice his stump speech.

Customer: Yuck! This ice cream taste terrible. Vendor: Vanilla. I thought you said gorilla.

There was, for instance, the time he conducted a crew of new S.A.R.H. (Society for the Aesthetic Rearrangement of History -BJ) recruits – all from late twentieth-century Terra – on a training study of Carter’s World, a newly established agricultural colony attempting to support itself by the export of edible nuts. Barely into their second generation, and having yet to show a profit, the colonists were technologically backward. Nevertheless, they showed a surprising ingenuity in the use of their few advantages. It was this resourcefulness that Feghoot was demonstrating to his rookies.

“Look at the perfection with which these streets are graded”, exclaimed one student. “Earth-moving machinery on this scale is strictly high technology stuff. How can they do it?”

“A new alleyway is being constructed, nearby”, said Feghoot. “Let us walk that way while I explain.” As they strolled, he told his students that countless centuries before, the Carter’s World system had been inhabited by a now-vanished race of giants. This very planet had served them for a nursery, and among the many artifacts they had left were thousands of childrens blocks, immense and precision-cut. You simply jack one up onto logs, bring it where you want it, put collapsible jacks underneath, snake out the logs, spread soil more or less evenly beneath, and collapse the jacks.

“I see”, said the student. “It’s not graded road at all; its a simple hammered-earth base.”

“That’s right,” Feghoot went on smoothly. “You just hit the road jack and don’t come back no mo.”

His students registered dismay and anguish.

“Isn’t that right, old-timer?,” Feghoot demanded of an ancient Carterian standing by the mouth of the newly completed alley they had just reached.

“Ahm afraid not, suh”, said the senior citizen, and the students giggled at Feghoots discomfiture. “Oh, we used to do it that way, but it was far too much trouble. It’s the soil heah. You see, the very same soil which produced our famous cashews is so high in clay content that a child could roll out a road of it. Then, we simply use a system of lenses to bake it into hardness. Ahve just completed this alley mahself, and ahm just a retired professor of Sports History, much too old and feeble to handle hydraulic jacks.

“So you see,” he finished, eyes twinkling, “Mah hammered alley is really cashews clay.”

Howls of agony rose from the students, but Feghoot never hesitated. “And he”, he said, turning to his students, “is clearly the gradi

After a few days of doing this, he realizes he is simply not fit for this type of job. On his final day of trying to chop down trees, he notices an old scrawny man chopping down trees as if he was a woodpecker, the amount of hits he made grew more and more each swing. The first swing was one hit, the next, ten hits, the next one, a hundred hits, and the next one after that, a thousand. He kept swinging until the tree he was swinging at was chopped down. Amazed, the young man walks over to the old man and asks, "Sir, what is your secret, how do you chop them down so quickly?"

The old man turns and says, "It's all about the rhythm." Puzzled by the old man's answer, the young man returned home pondering what he said.

The next morning, he was motivated to keep trying to be a lumberjack. "If an old scrawny man can do it, so can I!" he thought.

So he went back to the forest, and tried to use his advice. Trying to time each swing, he realizes this simply doesn't work. Later in the day, he sees the old man again, comes up to him, and asks, "I tried to time my swings, but it does no more than just chopping normally. How do you do it?"

"You can't just make up any old rhythm and follow it, you have to find a very specific one," he says, "you have to find the Logger-rhythm."

When he got there, a woman extended her hand.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said. "My name is Patricia Wack. How may I help you today?"

Kermit replied, "Hi-ho, Patricia! I'm Kermit the Frog, and I would like to borrow some money."

They walked over to her desk and sat down.

"Certainly, Mr. Frog--"

"Oh, just call me Kermit."

"Okay... Kermit. How much money would you like to borrow?"

"Ten thousand dollars."

Mildly surprised, Ms. Wack looked intently at Kermit.

"Do you have any references?"

"Well, I suppose I could use my father, Keith Richards."

Ms. Wack froze for a second, then...

"THE Keith Richards?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, he told me he's friends with your manager, which is why I came in here."

"Okay... Do you have any collateral?"

"Excuse me?"

"Collateral. Something of value, like a car, or a boat..."

"Oh, yes! I do have something. I have this."

Kermit reached into his briefcase and placed a small figurine on the desk. Patricia looked curiously at the object, then at our amphibious friend.

"What's this?"

"It's a Hummel."

"A what?"

"A Hummel. They're supposed to be quite valuable. Well, at least this one is to me."

She picked up the Hummel and stood up.

"If you don't mind, I would like to show this to the manager."

"Oh, no! I don't mind at all!"

So, Patricia took the Hummel to the manager's office, knocked on the door, and walked inside.

"Patricia! What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Wilson, there's this... frog named Kermit at my desk, and he wants to borrow $10,000, but he has only this for collateral."

Mr. Wilson looked at the Hummel, then out to her desk.

"I don't see anything out of order here."

"But, Mr. Wilson--"

"Look, it's a knick-knack, Patty Wack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."

...so he called in his court wizard to devise a means of defense. The wizard set to work at once. First, he wove a net, tightly so that nothing could escape. Then he traveled to the nearby lake.

For three days, he went to the edge of a dock, and cast his net into the water. Each time, he collected many small fish, until he had gathered thousands.

He then took the fish to his study, and carefully processed them, crushing them into a sticky paste. Warming the paste, he began to lather it across the walls of the maze.

When the king learned of this, he was very angry.

"How dare you cover my walls with fish paste!" he said.

The wizard replied, "But sire, everyone knows to protect a labyrinth, one must use a minnow tar."

After a few hours of debate, no one was willing to concede, and it was decided that a vote must be held. Unfortunately, with so few friends present, it was clear that they would need to bring the vote to the greater public. The group decided that each friend would make a plea to the subreddit of their choice, and whoever received the most karma for it would win.

Adam, already undecided himself, decided to go to /r/AskReddit. He laid out the agreement, and asked that everyone vote one their favorite movie, and the one with the most votes he would use for the his friends. Unfortunately, as the votes were split in that sub, his highest post amounted to a mere 38 points.

Paul, a big proponent for the Toy Story franchise, posted to /r/nostalgia in the hopes that everyone who grew up with Toy Story would agree. Unfortunately, as there had been two sequels (with a third on the way) it wasn't exactly considered "nostalgia" and he got downvoted into oblivion.

Bill, who loved Monsters Inc., made his case using some trickery. Going to /r/news, he found a seemingly unrelated post, and made a top-level comment describing, in great detail, why Monsters Inc. was the greatest film of all time. The fact that the post was so out of context made everyone flock to it, and drew enough attention to new him over a thousand fake internet points.

Mike, who loved the Incredibles movies, decided to stay in his wheelhouse. Over the course of several hours, he created each of the family members from the Incredibles in Soulcaliber VI. Finally, he photoshopped the family together, and posted it to /r/gaming. Under normal circumstances this would have skyrocketed to the top, but the format was stale, and thus only received 20k karma. Still, Mike was confident in his victory.

While the other four friends came up with plans on how to maximize their karma gains, Chris sat silently. For hours he sat, making no posts, coming up with no original content. Finally, an hour before the deadline, he broke into his neighbor's house, stealing his copy of the Pixar movie "Up". He took a picture of his theft and posted it directly to /r/dadjokes with the title "STOLEN".

When the group got together the next day to see who got the most votes, everyone was in awe. Chris's post had over 40,000 points. "How did you know that would win?" "Easy," Chris replied. "Everyone knows stolen content on /r/dadjokes gets all the Up votes."

So a frog walks into a bank, and up to one of the tellers, a young woman by the name of Patricia Wakk. He says to her, he says, “Miss Wakk, my name is Kermit Jagger, son of Mick Jagger, and I’d like to take out a loan. I make porcelain elephants,” he says, pulling one out from his pocket, “and I’d like to open a store down on Main Street selling them. I just need a few thousand dollars to buy the shop. Can you help me out?”

Now, Patricia doesn’t normally deal in small business loans, so she’s unsure on the proper protocol involved, so she calls over her manager and explains the situation to him, explaining Kermit’s family ties and showing him the elephant, to which her manager replies,

“It’s a knick-nack, Patty Wakk, give the frog a loan! His old man’s a rolling stone.”

No Franks

EDIT: Wow! Thanks guys! One thousand up-votes is crazy for my first submission on reddit. My dad told me this joke while we were grocery shopping.

I called down from my room to have my car brought around. Valet Scott answered the phone and asked for my ticket number. I said "one second" and he goes "One thousand one. TIMES UP!".

I chuckled, and continued digging through my wallet. After a moment I said "Just bear with me"

He immediately goes "ROAAAAAR!!"

...and soon grew and sold thousands to florists around the world. He called the flowers Nomasia, both singular and plural. Soon, almost every field and house had Nomasia.

One day a man was found dead with Nomasia in his hand and a joke written on his shirt. A detective arrived at the scene and instantly saw the pun on the dead man's clothes. "What's that?" he asked an officer nearby. The officer answered, "Oh, that's just a pair o' Nomasia."

1003.14 notice me plz explaination: one thousand = sen, 3.14 = pi, senpai = senior

I saw a white, fluffy thing swinging through my local cake shop. Suspect it was a meringue-utang.

I was out driving the other day and I spotted two packets of cheese & onion crisps walking down the road. I said, “Do you want a lift”. “No thanks”, they replied, “We’re Walkers”.

I was in a cake shop the other day, they were all £5 apart from one that was £10. I asked why it was so expensive, the shop owner said “that’s maderia cake”.

Bought some cream, it said “store in a cool place”. So I left it in the Doctor Who studios.

Local ice cream man was found lying on the floor of his van covered with hundreds and thousands. Police say that he topped himself.

I used to love doughnuts, but I got bored of the whole thing.

A man says “I keep finding custard in one ear, and jelly in the other”. The doctor says “I’m afraid you are a trifle deaf”.

I bought a waffle iron the other day. Get really annoyed with wrinkled waffles.

How do you make an apple puff? Chase it around the garden

What do they call a man who abandoned his diet? DESSERTER.

Ice cream is exquisite… –what a pity it isn’t illegal.

The optimist sees the doughnut, the pessimist sees the hole, and the realist sees the calories.

Why did Eve bite the forbidden apple? Because it tasted better than Adam’s banana.

Why did the students eat their homework? Because the teacher said that it was a piece of cake.

Why do we put candles on top of a birthday cake? Because it’s too hard to put them on the bottom!

When is a birthday cake like a golf ball? When it’s been sliced.

What did the cake say to the fork? you want a piece of me?

Why was the birthday cake as hard as a rock? Because it was marble cake!

What happens when no one comes to your birthday party? You can have your cake and eat it too.

What do they serve at birthday parties in heaven? Angel food cake, of course!

A birthday greeting: For someone special as you, only ANGELFOOD would do. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Did you hear there are two suspects in Two Ton Charley’s death? BEN and JERRY.

Don’t eat too much fudge, or else you will have so much pudge you won’t be able to budge.

You know you’re a mom if… Popsicles have become a staple food.

Mexican candy makes my taste buds say “OLE!”

FORGET LOVE… I’

Sitting around the table in a local restaurant the other night, I finally evolved to my final form.

My daughter, 5, kept dropping her garlic rolls on the floor and was getting really upset. I asked her if she was on fire, and the look from my wife told me that she knew what was coming. My two teenaged sons looked at me with the faces that I've seen a thousand times, yet never get tired of seeing.

"Sweetheart, are you on fire?"
"No, daddy."
"Well, I thought you were, because you can't stop drop'n rolls."

I got all rewards from this one. Groans, eye rolls, and of course I cracked myself up.

My girlfriend was showing me a picture of her friend

Her: I think she is studying abroad in Sweden.

Me: There thousand of girls in Sweden. How'd she choose just one?

These two were told by my grandfather a thousand times:

A man goes to a pizzeria and orders a small pizza. The waiter asks him: "Do you want that cut in six slices or eight?". The man replies "Six. I couldn't eat eight."

Some Indians were bored sitting around a campfire. One Indian speaks up. "Chief, tell us a story." So the chief begins: "Some Indians were bored sitting around a campfire..." [repeat until murdered by joke victims]

At a wedding reception where the chocolates on the table were in nice looking package.

• Dad: Don't throw that way; I'll take them home.
• Mom: Great another of one thousand useless items that'll be on a shelf.
• Dad: Aaaaw, Honey -- I'd never put you on the shelf.

While watching a baseball game:

• Mom: Are they "boo'ing?" Nobody "boos" anymore.
• Dad: Hey can I have a blow job?
• Mom: Shut up.
• Dad: Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

In regards to meatloaf my mother made:

• Mom: Sorry the meatloaf isn't that good.
• Dad: It's Ok. But next time try adding some Alpo.

While eating at relatives' house:

• Mom: Wow. This is really good! We used to eat like this all the time growing up.
• Uncle: Really? Where I come from we just call it Hamburger Helper.

In regards to an inappropriately shaped child's toy:

• Me: Did you buy that at one of those special stores you guys got in San Francisco?
• Grandfather: What?! Of course not! God no - that's not mine!
• ...
• Grandfather: It's too small...

When my brother and I were screwing around instead of helping in the garage:

• Dad: You know, twice, twice! I thought I got it out quick enough but some must have dribbled back inside.

After listening to a 3 minute voice mail from my mother:

• Me: What did she want?
• Dad: You want the long or the short version?
• Me: Short.
• Dad: Nothing.
• Me: Ok long version.
• Dad: Nothing much.

"Son i'm so glad I had a son over a daughter. When you have a boy you only have to deal with one dick; if you have a daughter you have to deal with a thousand." I love my dad.

Let me preface this with some info. Firstly, me and my father are idiots; our jokes can become insensitive if we aren't careful, as we have few filters. My parents live in a tiny town amidst a thousand other tiny towns. One of the tiny towns right beside us (let's call it Townsburg) has a lot of forest and extra land, so towards the end of the summer when it's still hot but the land is starting to dry out, it's rather susceptible to fires. The other day, Townsburg caught fire in a few different places. The town my parents live in (we'll call it Cityville) is the sausage capital of our state. Yep. Sausage capital. Like brisket and such. Our proudest export is meat. Meat is what we are most proud of. I don't live there anymore, thank the universe.

So I went by my parents house on the way home from work one day to check on my retired, sick father, and watch the news with him (something I try to do whenever I can). And what happened next, well, it all just happened so fast...

Me: "Whoa, Townsburg is on fire again. I guess Cityville isn't the barbecue capital anymore, AYO." Dad: "Nope. Looks like they're about to be the barbecued capital." Me: "...we may need to stop hanging out so much."

"I don't have a reddit account."

"You should make one. Comment on random stuff."

"Why? There's no point."

"What do you mean? You get thousands of points!"

'Hey, see if you can work this one out. It's a crossword clue: "hard-working postman".'

'I have no idea. How many letters?'

'He delivers thousands.'

I just told my dad I don't know what to do with the cantaloupe because it's too much melon for one person, and he responds "those melons have been responsible for hundreds of thousands of dollars being spent on a party for people that cantaloupe."

Like can't elope. My father everyone.

After a few days of doing this, he realizes he is simply not fit for this type of job. On his final day of trying to chop down trees, he notices an old scrawny man chopping down trees as if he was a woodpecker, the amount of hits he made grew more and more each swing. The first swing was one hit, the next, ten hits, the next one, a hundred hits, and the next one after that, a thousand. He kept swinging until the tree he was swinging at was chopped down. Amazed, the young man walks over to the old man and asks, "Sir, what is your secret, how do you chop them down so quickly?"

The old man turns and says, "It's all about the rhythm." Puzzled by the old man's answer, the young man returned home pondering what he said.

The next morning, he was motivated to keep trying to be a lumberjack. "If an old scrawny man can do it, so can I!" he thought.

So he went back to the forest, and tried to use his advice. Trying to time each swing, he realizes this simply doesn't work. Later in the day, he sees the old man again, comes up to him, and asks, "I tried to time my swings, but it does no more than just chopping normally. How do you do it?"

"You can't just make up any old rhythm and follow it, you have to find a very specific one," he says, "you have to find the Logger-rhythm."