The bartender yelled “AU, get outta here”
It's a gross waste of resources.
I mine my own business.
He was loded!
Do you think if Matthew McConaughey was a Mr. Potato Head he would have said, “Ore-Ida, Ore-Ida, Ore-Ida?”
but I found it boring.
The blacksmith says "put the ore on the bench, then beat it. I'll do it once I've finished up at the grindstone". The man says to the blacksmiths assistant "that was rude" and the assistant replies "what can I say, he has an axe to grind".
Our ancestors called it the prime-ore-deal soup
It's called He Who Smelt it Dealt it
The heart is a vital ore-gun.
I asked her the other day: "Which metal do you prefer to work with? Gold or silver?"
She said: "Either ore."
There once was a greedy ore mining magnate who wished that everything he touched would turn into iron. He was careful to always wear gloves except when making huge loads of ore, except for one day when a mosquito landed on his knee. Not thinking, the magnate slapped his leg with his exposed hand. His knee immediately became metallic and the sudden change to his blood pressure caused almost instantaneous death.
Later in the morgue the Coroner noted that it was a classic example of situational iron knee.
“I didn’t have time to do my laundry last night, so my soot is dirty!”
I said “war, ore, door”
At first the curse just brought him bad luck, causing vital equipment to break and provoking frequent but small injuries to him and his crew. Soon, however, the curse darkened and diggers the man had hired to help work his claim began to die in bizarre ways.
One was killed by an African scorpion that should never have made it to Alaska, let alone have survived the cold. A second drank a gallon of the mercury used to separate the gold from the ore. A third was found with a tree growing up through his body.
The man himself who owned the claim became more and more pale. His eyes became all white. His skin began to give off an overpowering smell of sulfur. He slept all day and at night he wandered the mountain above his claim, coming back each day looking more like a beast than a man.
The curse became so bad the last worker alive ran away to the nearest town to tell the authorities what was happening at the claim.
In an attempt to save the claim owner's life and lift the curse, a priest was brought in by dogsled to perform an exorcism on the man.
A sherriff from the town came with the priest as a bodyguard.
The exorcism was long, but apparently successful. Immediately the man's color returned, the sulfur smell disappeared, and he was able to sleep through the night for the first time in six months.
After the man awoke, the sherriff immediately arrested the man and brought him back to town with the priest. Standing in front of the judge, the sherriff was asked what charge the law had against the claim owner whose life had just been so dramatically turned around.
The sherriff looked at the man, then looked back at the judge and said in a slow and rumbling voice, "Possession as a miner."
I was hit by a meaty-ore.
The man replies, “Either ore works!”
I was in complete ore the whole time
Because he was an ore fan.
Well, one is an orphan and the other is an ore fan.
...what a gneiss person
They approach a table displaying a wide assortment of rocks. The chemist points in the booth's direction and asks the miner, "Which is your favorite; cinnabar or cassiterite?" The miner thought for a moment and replied, "Either ore."
I'll see myself out.
Please, sir, can I have some ore?
He found it bOREing
I say, "l have a lot of ore. Want to trade for some?" He responds, "Do you have any And?"