Skip Over Puns

Then again, I never was that into currant affairs.

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

She told me she had everything, and I was in a rush. So it got left behind. Figured it out right away as we were getting him changed and messaged my wife. She said she would bring it right away. I told my son "You mom is going to run your jersey over"

Without skipping a beat, he replied "Well that won't work, practice will probably be over. I wish she would just drive it over"

Then he gave me a huge grin. I told him he won the dad joke of the day and he continued smiling all the way until bedtime.

Posted this on r/Talesfromretail and it was suggested I post here.

I used to work in store where we would ask customers if they had an account number at the check out. The number would be put in manually before putting the shopping through and the customer would get back one penny on every pound they spent.

One day a family who I hadn't seen before came in and while the mum and kids wandered off to start shopping. The dad came over to the side of my till while I was serving customers, announced his account number and then ran off to join his family without saying anything else. OK, that was weird, I went on serving.

About 10 minutes later the family are queued for my till. When it comes to the point where I should ask for their number the dad grins at me and I realise what's going on. Fortunately, I have a bizarrely good memory for numbers and, without skipping a beat, I reel off the one he gave me when he came in the store. The kids both gasp and their eyes go wide. They look at their dad in awe.

As I'm putting through the shopping, I hear the dad say:

>See? I told you they were psychic.

So at my school, we had a pipe burst.

Joke at the end of you want to skip

Now it's pretty normal in the midwest, where I live, to have this thing. It started with the fire alarm going off, because of the pressure decrease, and the school was evacuated. We were all eventually brought back, for it was cold. We sat in our gym for AN HOUR before being dismissed back to our classes.

So it's near the end of the day and I have gym class. And I'm having your normal conversation with a friend about the school's financial problems. And we were just talking about how the school is going to have to pay so much money for the new pipe and the ceiling tiles and the cleaning etc.

And then it was my moment to shine.

So the conversation is almost over and the friend says,

"It'll be a while before normal funds go back".

And I just say this:

"Yeah man, the school's money is going down the drain".

There is a world where everyone is a cheerio and there are 4 main ranks. There is the plain cheerio then the chocolate cheerio then then the rainbow cheerio and then finally King cheerio himself. In this world there is a man called Steve, Steve was a plain cheerio working at a Mc. donalds. He found working there very boring, so he saved up enough money to get a surgery to become a chocolate cheerio. And so he got the surgery and now he was able to be manager at the Mc. Donalds he was working at. However he still didn't feel as if this was enough so he saved up enough money to get another surgery to become a rainbow cheerio. Now that he was a rainbow cheerio he owned Mc. Donalds itself. As a celebration king cheerio hosted a party at his mansion for Steve's new job. During the party Steve got a chance to speak with the King and he asked him how it was to be a the king, but the king replied that it was extremely exhausting to be the king. So Steve decided that he didn't want to be king. After his conversation he felt thirst so headed over to the drinks building. On the first floor he new he could get bear which he wanted, but as he arrived he noticed that the line was too big. So Steve went up to the next floor where there was wine, but again the line was too big. On the third floor there was Coke, but just like the other floors the line was too big. He also new that on the 5th floor there was milk which was his favourite. So he thought that might as well skip the 4th floor to get milk. But he changed his mind has he walked by the 4th floor as he saw the sign that they where serving punch and as he realised there wasn't any punchline.

EDIT: I somehow JUST saw the Mod Sticky post from last week, where a lot of users have expressed similar sentiments to these. I apologize to the mods if this is not appropriate and respect your decision if you want to delete it. I just wanted to see if people were thinking the same kind of thing. Still, read it if ya like.

It used to be that /r/dadjokes was a place to post actual stories of real dad humor. 'My dad pulled out this groaner at dinner.' 'Just became a dad...I think I get it now!' These are the things that warm my heart and tickle my corny bone. And I don't think I'm alone.

Now, we're arrogant enough to think we know the formula for dad humor, so we can post anything reminiscent of it, and it counts as a dad joke. It's as if we think we own dad humor now, and we can bend it and shape it at will.

Let me tell you, folks. WE DO NOT OWN DAD HUMOR.

Even the dads among us don't own it. I think the universe just channels it through them in brilliant, glorious, involuntary sneezes. Some are more deft than others, and are seen by the universe as more worthy outlets. But they do not own it.

We can get close to elusive heart of dad humor, we can approach it, we can dance around it...but we can never touch it. This is where I take issue with posts like this one, which currently has over 4000 upvotes and 2000 net karma. Is it reminiscent of dad-like punly-ness? Would a dad chortle heartily at reading it? Yes, almost certainly yes. But does that make it a dad joke? No...I would argue not.

Dad jokes are also not just about the jokes themselves. They're about the response--that he manages to be surprised at his own genius, even on the eightieth repetition. They're about the face-palms and straight stares of family members. What is a dad joke without context?

My proposed solution: ban link/image posts. I wish it wouldn't have to come to that, but I can't see another way to get back on track to the real goal here. I have hover zoom--I understand the desire for instant gratification. I've skipped over interesting looking videos because they required a click.

But that's not why I come here.

I understand that there are legitimate dad jokes transmitted via text, or perhaps requiring a bit of visual context. At this point, though, I think they are a necessary sacrifice for a righteous cause. They can always be transcribed into text, or included in a self-post. Maybe it seems a bit extreme, especially in the face

Years ago I used to use a LexisNexis database of companies that would give corporate information like name, address, and general business description. While most of them were pretty bland, there were a bunch of them with some really cheesy puns, and over a few years I built quite a collection.

Today I share with you "NEXIS IS RIDICULOUS.txt":

• Bucyrus International caters to those who mine their own business.
• It would be logical for Mr. Spock to boldly go to Vulcan International for rubber products. He might even live long and prosper -- in comfortable shoes.
• What do manufacturer Electro-Motive Diesel (EMD) and 1970s band Grand Funk Railroad have in common? They both want you to do the locomotion!
• Peter Piper can pick more than a peck of peppers or pickles from B&G Foods.
• Toray Plastics America could sing "foam, foam on the range, where the polyester and polypropylene materials are made" all day.
• Break out the Tums, because things are awfully gassy over at Air Liquide America.
• If a tree falls in a Weyerhaeuser forest, someone is there to hear it -- and he has a chainsaw.
• Although not a pushover, you can walk all over Wilsonart International.
• Here's a HEICO haiku: HEICO companies/ Providing for jet engines/ In flight or on land.
• American Italian Pasta Company (AIPC) uses its noodle in many different ways.
• The golf industry doesn't mind when Aldila gives it the shaft.
• Rat-a-tat-tat and a ringa-ding-ding. What's that? Answer: The sounds emanating from Pearl, one of the world's foremost makers of drums and other percussion and musical instruments.
• Saint-Gobain Ceramics & Plastics deals powders and crystal, but there's no need to call the cops.
• Pamida Stores Operating Company offers more small-town values than a bandwagon of Republicans on the campaign trail.
• Like a tight end, offshore drilling contractor Transocean dreams of going deep but doesn't mind eating a little mud.
• Rittal me this, Batman!
• Utility Trailer Manufacturing is spreading its own brand of reefer madness.
• Who is the Fresh Prince of Sullair?
• If GrafTech International were a bard, it could wax poetic in an ode to the electrode.
• When it comes to adhesives and vibration control products, LORD knows.
• You might say that Deere & Company enjoys its customers going to seed.
• Pfizer pfabricates pfarmaceuticals pfor quite a pfew inpfirmities.
• Stripping is OK at Spraylat.
• Don't think Seton is

My Dad was in the process of renting a car at the airport when the agent asked if he wanted to upgrade to Sirius™ radio. Without skipping a beat, my dad responded: "No thanks, I think we'll stick with the lighthearted radio today."

It went right over the agent's head.

So, my dad could be considered a regular jokester. He had his dad jokes, his dirty jokes, clean but provocative joke, setup jokes, everything. He never missed a chance to turn something into a joke for hinself, even, and perpahs especially, if it only amused himself. I found out at an young age that no situation is too serious for him.

I was around 9 years old and I was in the cub scouts, and it was box car derby season. I was in the dining room, carving away at my block of wood when the blade in my right hand skipped the wood and carved my left thumb. It fucking hurt and bled like a sonofabitch. I immediately starting screaming and my dad raced into the room and found me covered in blood, my left hand now with two thumbs. We get it wrapped and he drives me to the emergency room. By the time we got there the bleeding had stopped and I have stopped crying. As we pull up, my dad looks st me, shakes his head and says "We can't go in there like this, we'll end up waiting forever to see a doctor. You need to cry once we're in there and that'll help" I said ok, and he said as we were walking up, "I'll give you a signal to start crying." How will i know, i asked him snd he just said i'll know. We go inside and walk up to the admittance desk. I'm short, so at the time my head just cleared the desk. My dad tells the nurse that we have a cut, and need to see a doctor right away. The nurse pushes paperwork at him and he tells her again, this time that its a real bad cut. The nurse finally looks at me for the first time and she frowns, because im relatively normal looking, even though im hurting and nervous, waiting for my dads signal. My dad pulls me back a bit and her eyes widen really big when she sees all the dried blood caked on the lower left side of my body. She starts getting excited and says "Ohmygoshohmygosh" over and over and this point im starting to get scared when my Dad, in a serious voice says "Its even worse than it looks! You're going to have to take the whole hand!"

Then I start crying.

She comes over and introduces herself as April. Without skipping a beat dad says "Well that's next month". Facepalming insues.

I should preface this by saying this was on of the best dates I've ever been on, but the relationship also subsequently fell apart because of it.

Anyway, a few years ago, my girlfriend and I had been going out for a few months, and things were great. I met her through a mutual friend of mine at the hospital, weirdly enough. Our friend had gotten in a very bad accident and had to get a glass eye. He would always dab it with cotton to stop the bleeding at the beginning. Anyway, this is all relevant because my girlfriend (not girlfriend at the time) bonded over how disgusting our friends eye was. This got us to talking, and before you know it, we started going out. Things got pretty serious months and months down the line, and I was just laid off from my job. This meant that in general, we would go on cheaper dates. Nothing too drastic. Just like a movie and dinner instead of say the Opera and a fancy five star restaurant.

So, about a year and a half into the relationship, Joe, the mutual friend of ours, suggests a double date with us and his girlfriend. He knew the situation I was in and offered to pay for the whole thing. Great right? Well... no. I was actually planning on proposing to my girlfriend. Except Joe suggested the plans in front of my girlfriend too, so she accepted for both of us. I didn't want to propose to her on a double date, so I pulled her aside and told her to just skip the date and come over instead. Joe had bought us all tickets to a baseball game, and believe it or not, my girlfriend chose the baseball game instead of me. I stayed home alone as she went out with Joe and his girlfriend. Moral of the story is, if it hadn't been for Cotton Eyed Joe, I'd been married a long time ago.

My roommate's girlfriend is currently participating in a study abroad program in Seoul, SK. She had posted something to my Facebook wall and my dad asked me over the phone what she is doing overseas. I told him and he asked what she studies. I said international affairs and without skipping a beat he said "Ah, I see: Boyfriend here, boyfriend there..."

She came over to my house for a bit tonight and were getting kinda frisky. Her glasses fell off the top of her head and got tangled in her hair and we had to stop to get them out. When she finally did, she said "Sorry my hairs a little knotty." Without skipping a beat i said "I love it when you're 'knotty'." Que the end of frisky times. Worth it.

So My dad and I went out to grab some lunch today and we got some food from the grocery store. At the register the cashier asks "Do you wan't a bag" and my father, without skipping a beat, says "That depends, does she work?". Woosh, right over the cashiers head. He was majorly confused and we walked away laughing.

You can get an app on your iPhone/iPad that acts as a remote control to Apple TV. Using this, I have convinced my kids that you can control the Apple TV by thought alone. They practice by yelling out commands to the TV which I then do from another room.

In addition to that, I sometimes pause shows, fast forward, rewind, skip tracks, etc., at random times. I have the kids convinced that the other one must have accidentally thought something a bit too loudly. They fight over it while I sit the other room, silently laughing myself to death.

We were at the register and the cashier says "Oh my gosh! You *pointing at my sister* look like the girl from The Last Exorcism!"

After a little semi-awkward dialogue, I asked if the cashier was talking about the person who gets exercised in the film, and she says yes.

Without skipping a beat, I look over to my sister and say "THAT MAKES YOU MY EXORSISTER!"

She then digs her face into the counter with the "Yup. This is what I live with" face

So there I was in the process of helping him walk back to his room. During the walk I happen to look over and he is grimacing in pain with a look of disgust. As a worried healthcare provider, I ask him,

"Patient, you look like you're in pain, how do you feel"?

Without skipping a beat, he looks up into my eyes and with a trembling voice through the pain he replies..

"with my hands"

I was taken aback, not realizing what had just happened to me. He then smiled and startled to chuckle, and only then did I realize I had just been had by a dad and started to laugh myself.

One of them fell over and an ear broke off. Without skipping a beat my dad says

"That deer will have a silent night without it's ear"

The bus ride to the station had been very stressful. I spent the entire time worrying if the bus even stopped at the train station. I ended up spending nearly an hour making two loops around the city before I finally realized that I had to hop off near the station. Public transport. Jesus.

I'd missed the train I wanted to catch due to my hour-long bus ride, so I had some time to kill before the next one arrived. It had been cold and raining when I left in the morning, but by lunch time it was warm and I was sweating, standing on the station in a big yellow hoodie and jeans.

I had overslept and skipped breakfast earlier, so I resolved not to let the loud farts coming from the old man next to me kill my appetite. I was desperate for a snack.

Initially the vending machine told me it would accept "EXACT CHANGE ONLY". Slightly annoying, but no real problem: I just fished out my change, inserted some alternative coins and punched in the number. I watched the object of my desire inch forwards, ready to drop into the bottom where I could collect it. For some reason I was terrified that it might get stuck. Robbed by a robot, how embarrassing. Luckily the packet fell into the tray. Finally something was going my way.

As I reached into the bottom of the machine and pushed open the metal door, it suddenly stuck. It was wedged in place and the gap was too small for my snack to fit through. "Motherfucker..." I whispered under my breath.

But I was too invested to give up now. Determined not to be beaten by a bloody machine, I pulled hard and the packet burst, spilling chips into the tray. I managed to salvage about half of the crisps and ate them greedily. Partially crushed, but still deliciously cheesy.

At this point it occurred to me that perhaps I should tell the station operator that the vending machine was broken. I walked up to the ticket office and saw a bored, tired looking man in his forties. "I just thought I'd let you know the vending machine is jammed," I announced.

The attendant got up, walked over over to the vending machine and gave it a solid kick, dislodging the little metal door which had foiled me. When he turned to me again his expression had changed from boredom to amusement. "So what flavour was it then? Strawberry?"

I groaned, but couldn't resist a smile.

I knew it was going to be a good day.