Rather Be Puns

Beets the alternative.

I guess I'm more of a spokesman.

Dick Van Dyke

“What’s a matter baby?”

“Nothin’ much, what’s a matter with you honey?”

Between the two, I’d take the ladder.

easier to get a head

He's totally transparent.

Rather worried, Noah said “But my Lord, have the people not been good this time? Must there be another flood?”

“No, there will not be a flood, the people have been good.” Said the Lord.

“Then why another ark?” Asked Noah.

“I wish for this ark to only house fish.” The Lord replied.

A slightly confused Noah responded “Okay... I shall do as you wish my Lord.”

“But not just any fish; only carp.” The Lord said unto him.

Noah, now more bemused, replied “Uh- okay my Lord.”

“One more thing.” The Lord said unto him “it needs to have multiple levels.”

“Are you sure my Lord? What is the purpose of this? What on earth is it all for?” Noah pressed.

And God said: “I want you to build a multi-story carp-ark.”

Passed from my father unto me, to pass onto my son when he becomes a father.

Hopefully this is the right place for it - but I'm looking to create a wedding hashtag with our future last names. So far, we only have 'pining for macalpine' but, as someone pointed out, that has a rather negative connotation. Unfortunately, our first names don't lend to puns/rhymes.

Any alp would be appreciated.

Dad: You'd think it would be the arrrrm, but he's rather fond of the booty!

Due to lack of real estate options in their city, they all set up shop next door to each other. In order to convince customers to come to their store rather than one of the other Jacksons, they all put up signs to attract customers.

The one on the left puts up a sign that says "Jackson's clothing store (Best prices!)"

Not to be outdone, the one on the right puts up a sign that says "Jackson's clothing store (Best quality!)

The one in the middle thinks about it for a while, and eventually puts up a sign of his own.

"Jackson's clothing store (Main entrance).”

Years ago when my mum was at a hotel with my dad she forgot her swimsuit so she bought one at the hotel shop. She got it put on the bill rather than pay for it there and never checked the price as she assumed it would just be a normal, cheap costume. Turned out it was an Armani one and cost hundreds so my dad 'gave' it to her for the next few Christmases, and when I reminded him of this years later: 'remember that Armani swimsuit?' he replied 'yes, it did cost a lot of Armani' ('our money').....

it will be time for Hugh & Barbara, rather than Dan.

(I know its Muir/Robach and Stahl/Dickerson but I grew up with Mr. Downs and Ms. Walters. Anyone else?)

post time: 2300 GMT -5 12-31-2019

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

A Velcro salesman knocked on my door and said I should be using Velcro to tie my stuff down. I told him I would rather knot.

Else you might be in for a ride. He is known to be rather vengeful

A young man comes up with a great idea for a new shipping method. He designs everything himself, hires people to create models, and deduces that he can use old fashioned boating technology to increase shipping speeds by up to 350%. This is obviously a great innovation, so he calls up a former Business professor from college and gets into contact with a manufacturer. The manufacturer makes the man come in and present his design to the board of directors, so they schedule a meeting in two weeks.

At the meeting, the board is blown away. The man’s charisma, design, and equations all point to a massive innovation in shipping. The company is poised to make a huge profit. Construction starts immediately.

On his flight back, the man happens to sits next to his old buddy from high school, Jimmy. Jimmy tells the man that he has just blown the farming world wide open. His new GMO potato produces five times as much energy and has been the talk of the world. Jimmy says that all the news outlets have been reporting potatoes to be the next big superfood, and his design is poised to make him millions, if not billions of dollars. Jimmy pitches the man for the entire plane ride, and convinced him. They hop on the next flight back to visit the board of directors once again. The board is shocked. Both ideas stand to make billions of dollars for the company, but there is one slight problem.

The CEO says to the man, “we know you have these two ideas. However, we can only allocate enough resources to make one of them profitable. I recommend you take some time off and really decide which of these ideas you want our company to produce. We can schedule a meeting in a few weeks if that works for you.”

The man says right back to the CEO, “I’m going to take a walk and clear my head. This is a big decision” and walks right out of the room.

Not even five seconds later the man comes back into the room and says “I’ve made my decision. Let’s go with the shipping method.” This shocks the CEO, who says “are you sure?? This is a billion dollar decision and you only took five seconds to think about it.”

The man looks back at him and says “well, in this business time is money— so I decided to make my decision schooner rather than tater”

Apparently, my male offspring won't be able to drive but would rather stop the car whenever he sees an empty space.

I've got parking son disease.

So in Canberra people are picking their own mushrooms; which would be fine except for the rather hazardous Death Caps that seem to be plentiful right now. A local radio station asked their listeners whether hey thought mushroom sales at stores or restaurants would go down, and what people thought of the whole issue. With a decade of experience in hospitality I thought I'd call and while waiting to go on air, the presenters joked about calling up the head 'mushroom guy' for Australia and asking their opinion.

I go on air and assure them that no restaurant worth their salt would risk their name and business by buying mushrooms that weren't from an official farm. But just before They bid me farewell I said; "I hope you do get to talk to the head mushroom person, I bet he's a real Fungi".

There was silence followed by barely audible raucous laughter from what sounded like either outside their booth or over the intercom, I'm not sure. The presenters denied me an on air groan or laugh and just pretended like I had said nothing. But someone laughed... Someone...

[Edit: Wow, unable to log in to reddit for a day and I miss getting nearly eight times more up votes than I have since joining Reddit last year. Thanks all! I knew having a 1 yr old would pay off.]

I'm here today to tell you all a horrible story, so that none of you have to go through the same experience as my friend.

My friend, Hugh, is a very religious man, who is also involved in our community. 2 weeks ago, our local church burned down and Hugh believed it was his Christian duty to help them get back on their feet. Hugh allowed the friars of the church to set up a cart in his mall to sell their flowers. Every day, the friars came in at 7:00 in the morning with a bushel of beautiful flowers and began to work diligently to arrange them into bouquets. All was going well, the mall was generating more revenue and the church was making more money than they were by selling the flowers in front of the church on Sunday. Everyone was happy; until that first weekend.

Our town is kinda tourist-y, so we get some out-of-towners on the weekends. A gay couple came to the mall the first weekend that the friars had taken up shop (Typically, our town is pretty progressive, but the friars tended to be uber-conservative). The couple came over to the cart and admired the flowers; they tried to purchase a bouquet, but the friars refused to sell to them. The couple was outraged and went to see Hugh directly. They complained to him that the friars were being discriminatory, so Hugh promised to have a talk with the friars. When Hugh confronted the friars, they refused to sell to the couple on the grounds that “they were committing an atrocity in the eyes of the lord.” The couple stormed off and promised to boycott the cart.

This past weekend, the couple came back with a large group and a letter from the mayor, saying that the friars had to sell to them, regardless of sexual preference. The friars stood firm and refused to sell to them, so the group started a protest. They brought in signs and started chanting around the cart. The friars continued to sell their flowers and Hugh allowed them to remain, so eventually the protest began to boycott the mall, rather than just the cart.

By today, the mall had lost 50% of its normal weekend revenue. The group sent a letter to Hugh saying that they could forgive him if he shut down the flower cart within the week. Hugh was pretty broken up, but he had no choice. To maintain his livelihood, he would have to kick the friars out of his store. He talked with the friars this morning and revoked their previous agreement. The friars had their cart packed and left by 7:30, to huge cheers from the community. The mall has been pretty norm

However, this one's a gem!

You know, I heard that the geology department at MIT just isn't what it used to be; it's slated for removal.

All that I can say is that puns about geology are a diamond dozen.

Many geologists live a rather sedimentary lifestyle.

Are you bored yet? I have way Moh if you want.

"No, I'd rather you left me a human being."

John started working in a color pigment company which specialises in mixing and editing different color pigments according to their customers's demands. Once the color pigments were done, they would be mailed out to the customers with a detailed note commenting on the properties of the produced color pigments. John was placed in the 'Pink Pigment' department which was incidentally between the 'Red Pigment' and 'White Pigment' departments. He was really good at his job and was constantly praised for the great work he produced.

However after a month or so, John found that a number of his work was being duplicated and mailed to almost all of his customers. Worse of all, instead of a proper note commenting on the color pigment properties, these duplicated products were accompanied with rather bad puns and jokes. One repeating joke which irritated him the most was: 'What do you call a country with only pink cars? A pink car-nation.'

Upset, he went to his manager to complain about the problem. After listening to John, his manager said, "Oh boy, looks like I need to talk to the manager of the 'Red Pigment' department again. This is not the first time that it has happened. Those Red-editors in that department love to copy and repost other people's original work as their own."
John then asked, "How are you so sure that it was them who are responsible?"
His manager replied, "Well, you can be certain that it is them as they always love jokes or puns especially in the comment section."

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’

There once was a man who had a job driving a passenger train between two large towns. It could be a very dull job to some, but as the old saying goes, one man's trash is another's gold; he wanted to be a railroad man since he was a boy.

He was a wiz behind the controls of the train, and commanded the 15 car vehicle effortlessly as if he had been born to do the job. He prided himself on the fact that he could bend the rules and speed through curves and grades that made other motormen shiver and back off.

One day however, he wasn't so lucky and came round a bend too fast and derailed his train. He backed off the throttle and braked as much as he could, managing to only have one fatality out of 500 passengers on his train.

Months later there was a trial and he was found guilty of manslaughter in the highest degree, a capital offence in that land, and sentenced to die by electric chair. Punishment came swift, unlike most places, and 3 days after sentencing the former railroader was asked for his last meal.

"I'll have a banana," "Just a single banana?" said the perplexed guard. "The warden will grant you a feast and all you want is that?"

"Just a single banana." he said.

After he downed the fruit, he was strapped into the electric chair an hour later.... The warden hit the switch, lights flickered, and the crackle of electricity could be heard for over a minute...

...but our train jockey instead rose from the chair looking more like he got a stiff massage, rather than be put to death! Well in that nation, the law of the land states that if a man somehow survives being put to death, they must be set free...

...And so it came to pass that our engineer was let go...

And for whatever reason, he got his job back!

So he was back railroading again doing the job that he loved. You'd think he'd have been more cautious with this second chance he'd been given, but you'd also be wrong. Speedy Gonzales with a train license decided to gun his locomotive to hard and send it off the tracks again!

Of course, this time he was tried for the same crime, but at a different time (his was a fair commonwealth and double indemnity was simply unheard of!) So fair was their nation, that the jury came up with the same judgement and punishment. So three days later, when asked for his last meal, the engineer simply said "I'll have 2 bananas..."

Not less than 60 minutes after consuming the last morsel was he strapped into the chair and the switch thrown... And....

NOTHING.

As a Boy Scout, we would camp a lot and go on hikes.

One night, we had to do a night hike, alone, for a merit badge. I had left the campsite about an hour earlier and a terrible storm rolled in. The sky opened up and the ground was quickly saturated. I tried to continue my hike for another few minutes, but it got cold and I was chilled and soaked to the bone, so I decided to try to head back to camp.

Lightning was starting to crackle above me, so I thought I should try to take a shortcut to make my hike back quicker. I pulled out my compass and found my direction, but the rain made it impossible to see more than five feet in front of me.

I was looking down at my compass, not paying any attention to where I was going, and suddenly felt weightless. The feeling didn't last long as I thumped down on slippery earth a second later.

I had fallen onto a ledge on the side of a rather steep cliff, the bottom of which was at least fifty feet down.

I sat there, contemplating on how to get back up this cliff as water rolled over the edge ten feet above me. There was nothing to grab onto to pull myself up. I was stuck there.

After a few minutes, I noticed the little ledge I was standing on was slowly getting smaller. The water was coming down so hard it was eroding the tiny bit of safety I had.

I dug through my pockets, thinking maybe I had something, anything, to help me out of my precarious situation. All I had was my compass, a cough drop, and a match. I was screwed.

So, I sat there, watching the edge of the ledge I was on get closer and closer to my feet, when suddenly I felt something pushing on my back.

I turned slightly and saw a wooden box sticking out of the cliff behind me. It was working its way out of the side, the rain surely helping it along. I tried to move away from it, but the ledge wasn't very wide and the box kept coming out, pushing me farther to the weak and failing edge.

As more of the box came out, to my horror, I realized it was a coffin! I had no idea how old it was, but it looked rather rotten. All I could think of was being pushed off this ledge, and the rotten coffin breaking and dropping a skeleton onto my broken and battered body at the bottom.

The coffin crept closer, my foot began to slip. I grabbed onto a root that was sticking out of the cliffside and dug in my pocket once more.

I hurriedly tore the wrapper off the cough drop and stuck it in my mouth. It stopped the coffin.

This joke has been told to me

My phone displays a line of text at the top, even when the screen is off. Rather than have it show something boring like my name, I thought a pun would be cool.

Needs to be short. Otherwise, let's get some punny puns r/puns! (sorry)

My girlfriend and I were driving for a long while and under my coercion she was reading Dune to me. After the first chapter she grew rather tired of the amount of large words mixed in with made-up sci-fi words. She demanded that she be exempt from large words for the test of the day. I replied, "So I guess defenestration is out the window."

She hit me. A lot.

First and foremost, I've decided to add a rule 7. Please, for the love of God, have the slightest bit of creativity and do not put the punchline of the joke in the title. The reasoning being as follows.

Most importantly, putting the punchline in the title ruins the joke, unless it is a one liner!
*
Secondarily, this is a puns subreddit dedicated to wordplay, if you lack the creativity to restate something in a humorous way rather than regurgitating the punchline as the header, perhaps this isn't the subreddit for you...

#Secondarily,

I've made a few minor spam filter tweaks. Your post will be caught in the spam filter if:

1. Your account has less than +3 combined comment and link karma.
2. Your account is less than 7 days old.

What will happen if your post is filtered is it will automatically go into the spam queue, and I'll try to have it unfiltered in the span of a couple of minutes/hours, but sometimes I do sleep so sadly it may take longer.

My post isn't appearing! How do I fix it?

If your post is not appearing and it has not violated any of the rules, feel free to drop us a mod message and I'll get a mobile notification within 30 minutes or so of the post removal, putting it on the fast track to being restored.

After a rather silly joke to lighten the mood

Him: Dude, you're testing my patience.

Me: But [his name], how can I be testing your patience if I'm not a doctor.

Him: Please stop.

Dad: We should sell the house and just store oil somewhere..... Then again that'd be a rather crude way to live!

He then began chuckling to himself for 5 minutes.

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

She's taking an intro paralegal class to find out if that's something she wants to do. She was talking about it earlier, and all I had to say was "could I be a single legal if I wanted to? Rather than a paralegal?"

She laughed! But she totally denies it, saying "that was the dumbest thing..."

Coworker 1: Would you rather be blind or deaf for the rest of your life?

Coworker 2: Deaf, because you can always get cochlear implants.

Me: Oh, so in this scenario we can cheat deaf?

There's a new golf course that was built inside of a submarine. It's small, but people enjoy the novelty of it. The quality of the course isn't great though, so the general consensus seems to be that the whole experience is rather sub par.

I didn't come up with this but its been flying around reddit for a while...

A day before his 15th birthday, the son of a wealthy family was asked by his father, `Well my son, what would you like for your birthday?' The son hesitated a moment and his father's thoughts leapt ahead to a new computer and similar things. However, his son had had a new computer only recently and could have a new one any time he wished.

Finally, the son said, `Father, I have everything a boy could wish for, but there is one thing I would really like. I would love to have a pink ping pong ball.'

The father was rather astonished at this wish, but said, `If it is a pink ping pong ball that you want, a pink ping pong ball you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his bithday present a pink ping pong ball.

The boy took the ball to his room and the next morning the pink ping pong ball was gone. The father was mildly surprised but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong ball, however, was never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 16th birthday, the father asked his son what he would like for his birthday.

Father,' replied the son,I have everything a boy could possibly wish for, but there is one thing I would really, really like. I would love to have a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was more surprised than the year before, but kept his curiosity at bay, for he knew that his son had a right for privacy. he said therefore, `If it is a tenpack of pink ping pong balls that you want, a tenpack of pink ping pong balls you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.

The boy took the tenpack of balls to his room and the next morning, not a single ball remained, merely the empty husk of the tenpack. The father wondered where ten pink ping pong balls might disappear to, but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong balls, however, were never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 17th birthday, the son was asked by his father what he would like for his birthday.

Father,' said the son to this,I have everything a boy could wish for, but one thing would make my happiness complete. I would dearly want a carton of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was beyond surprise, but decided to make sure he had not misheard. `A carton of pink ping pong balls?'

`A carton of pink ping pong balls,' the boy confirmed.

I can't understand your fascination with pink ping pong balls

I had some pain in my side, so i figured i'd rather be safe than sorry, so I went to the ER. The physician was doing an ultrasound to check for internal injuries, and he was like, "so that's your spleen, we check for this black line right there. This here is your kidney, which looks fine." and I replied "You gotta be kiddin-ney."

my mom thought it was funny as hell.

I was helping my grandpa today to plant new grass at the grave site of my great-great-grandfather.

Grandpa: You know, I like this landscaping kind of work. I could work in a cemetery like this.

Me: I don't know. I'd rather work in a livelier profession.

Grandpa: Yeah, but you'd be working with so many people under you!

Me: I'm heading upstairs to pack, I don't want to be rushin' around later before we head to the airport Dad: what, you'd rather be Greek?

Dad: It's so cold out here! We should get into the sun!

Son: It might be a little hot inside the sun.

Dad: Hey, is that a sonjoke?

both say hey! rather loudly several times

Scene: Mum, Dad, and I, at party/bonfire thing, sitting outside in a gazebo, attempting to enjoy the relaxing night. Wind is making things rather chilly.

Mum (wrapped in blanket): "It would be rather nice if it wasn't so cold." *sighs* "This wind sucks."

Dad and I, simultaneously: "No, it blows." *high-five*

We were talking about what to do for Halloween and my wife and I said we'd rather chill at home.

BFF: Guys, we can't be old farts.

Me: I actually don't mind being an old fart.

BFF: That's cuz you guys have someone to be old farts with. I'd love to be an old fart with someone but I don't want to be an old fart alone.

Me: You should start a Lonely Farts Club.

For some time many of us have wondered, just who is Jack Schitt?

We find ourselves at a loss when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt!'

Well, thanks to my personal genealogy research efforts, you can now respond in an intellectual way.

Jack Schitt is the only son of Awe Schitt.

Awe Schitt was married to O. Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, and owner of Needeep N. Schitt, Inc. They had one son, Jack.

In turn, Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt. The deeply religious couple produced six children: Holie Schitt, Giva Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Bull Schitt, and the twins Deep Schitt and Dip Schitt.

Against her parents' objections, Deep Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school dropout.

After being married 15 years, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced. Noe Schitt later married Ted Sherlock, and because her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name. She was then known as Noe Schitt-Sherlock.

Meanwhile, Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt, and they produced a son with a rather nervous disposition who was nick-named Chicken Schitt.

Two of the other six children, Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt, were inseparable throughout childhood and subsequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony.

The wedding announcement in the newspaper announced the Schitt-Happens nuptials.

The Schitt-Happens children were Dawg, Byrd, and Horse.

Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world.

He recently returned from Italy with his new Italian bride, Pisa Schitt.

Now when someone says, 'You don't know Jack Schitt,' you can correct them.

Sincerely,

Crock O. Schitt

Just a few weeks ago I was on a camping trip with my friends and we were staying in a friends cabin out on their private property. During the day when there wasn't much to do it was fun to get on a few ATV's we had and drive around. Through no fault of my own, I incidentally couldn't make a turn and crashed through a barb wire fence and sliced open my Neck, during the time I was being prepared for a helicopter ride to a Hospital rather far away I poked up from the stretcher while my friends watched and stated: "With all this Adrenaline and this IV, I guess you could say I'm feeling pretty 'wired'. " It was the proudest moment of my trip.

Today she's being a rather well known blonde from "Frozen", working outside at a festival in the wind and rain. She sent me a picture of herself dressed up and looking a bit miserable, to which I replied:

"You look like you'd rather be somewhere.....ELSA"

He said he'd rather be dated, then gave himself a hearty chuckle.

"Would you rather be Dan, or Dan Rather?"

I... I don't even know.

Me: You're being rather affectionate tonight. What's gotten into you?

Her: I don't know. Maybe I'm seeing a different side of you!

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."

Professor: In the past, only contracts that involved a certain degree of formality were enforceable by the court. This required a business person who wished to create enforceable contracts to have to bring a seal around with them. Does anyone realize the practical difficulties of carrying around a seal with you?

Class: (No answer)

Professor: Well you would have to bring fish to feed the seal, a trainer to watch the seal while you are away conducting business. It would be rather ridiculous

Class: ....

So we were having dinner last night, and we got to dessert. So my mum turned round and asked "Does anyone want Madeira cake?". Without missing a beat, I answered with "that depends, how much dearer was it?". I was met with groans from all except my mums boyfriend, who happens to be rather great at dad jokes.

Bought some pizza slices and while I was filling up my drink from the soda fountain, there was a family of four talking about, of all things, medical professions. The daughter at the table said she thought a proctologist was basically a pervert since they'd be focused on butts all day every day.

The mom explained that you wouldn't call a heart surgeon who uses tools to literally crack open a person's chest cavity and muck around with things a serial killer, so why would you call a doctor who specializes in proctology a pervert?

The dad then chimed in "No that's not right... a serial killer is someone who uses Captain Crunch to murder another person!"

Silence at the table, and the daughter groaned rather loudly. I happened to make eye contact with the dad and just smirked and nodded, which made him beam, and walked out the door to hear him say "Right? Right guys?"

Well done, sir.

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.

Dad: I have been conditioned at work to not call stuff stupid, but rather to say it is funny. Mom: Must be why you think your jokes are funny.

"I don't want to be linked in! I'd rather be linked out!"

I've heard him say this about three times in the past two days.

My sister is a single mum and has been having trouble with love.

Mum: What do you want for Christmas?

Sister: A husband

Dad: Wouldn't you rather he be single?

She walked right out of the room.

Dad: "Yeah, I'd rather be a box than a ceiling."

Me: ???

Dad: "A fan. At least box fans get moved around."

Me: "…Dad…"

My brother was picking his nose rather obviously when my mother yelled at him to stop. Then my grandfather says

"Yeah, you got to be union to Picket!"

I went out to eat with a friend and his family

Friend's mom: "That guy over there is the local coroner. I sometimes have conversations with him."

Me: "What's it like to talk to a coroner? I can image the conversations to be rather dead."

We were driving to a friend's place when my brother points out a house with a rather large window and says, "That window must be a pain to wash." It took us all about 3 seconds before we all groaned.

As I was driving and receiving directions from my friend in the back seat while my other friend was in the front seat I knew he would be a great dad.

Me: so turn here?

Backseat: yep take a left on Nichols (the street)

Frontseat friend: well I would rather turn on Dimes....

Followed by his own brand of slight chuckle. It was marvelous

This would happen way too many times during my childhood and I never learnt... maybe because I couldn't actually find another way to express it.. anyway:

My eye would be sore and hurting really bad

Dad: What's the matter? Me: I've got something in my eye. Dad: Yeah, your eyeball.

-seriously unhelpful while I can't even see properly...thanks Dad-

I have however used it to friends as I got older... they also found it to be rather unhelpful and annoying lol.

True Dad jokes are only funny if you're on the outside of the problem haha.

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.