A list of puns related to "Small Minded"
I said, “Actually, the process is the same. Apart from their tiny clothes.”
"Hey, barkeep!" he says, struggling to keep control of his quarry. "Any room for me and my friends?"
The bartender smiles and sets down some plastic cups. The man plops his friends inside, but the cups are too small.
"Um...barkeep?" the man says, pulling them out again. The bartender reaches for some larger mugs, but as he places them next to the cups, it becomes obvious that even these will be too small for the pigs.
Seeing the man struggle to continue holding them, the bartender runs to the kitchen for help.
A cook emerges, holding several large measuring cups. "Sorry, I just used these to make a batch of cheese dip, but they're all yours!"
The man carefully plops each pig into its respective gooey yellow cup.
Arms exhausted, breathing heavily, he drops into a stool at the end of the bar, between his tiny friends and a beautiful girl.
He glances her way, gasping coyly. "Hey...I'm...Tom."
She smiles, having watched the whole ordeal. "Hi Tom, I'm Liz. And if you don't mind me asking..." she laughs, looking over his shoulder, "what was that all about?"
He glances back at the bar. "Yeah...sorry," he pants. "I wanted...to impress you, but...it turned out to be...a pretty cheesy...pig-cup line."
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."
I guess you could say he was a bit small minded.
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡BREAKING NEWS: A midget mind reader recently broke out of jail! Be on the the look out for a small medium at large!
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":
When I was maybe 7 or 8 my dad was performing some routine maintenance on my mums van, probably an oil change or something. Anyway I asked dad what he was doing and he told me he had installed a time travel device that would take us back in time. My dad is still a geek and at the time the wizardry he could do with electronics left me with no doubts in my mind that he had in fact invented and installed a time travel device in my mums van. When finished he suggested we take it for a test drive.
The next morning we got up quite early, packed a picnic and loaded the family into the van to see the time traveling van in action, we drove for about an hour out of the city to a small town called......Middlemarch.
When we got there he said "Well we're in the middle of march now, and it was December when we left home!"
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.
My mom owns a store where she does flower arrangements and cakes in a small town where everyone gets married in the same Catholic church. We were sitting around when she informed us that a cousin asked her about being her wedding planner.
Mom: "Honestly, I wouldn't mind doing it. I'm tired of seeing people mess up the ceremonies because no one knows where to go."
Dad: "Sounds like mass confusion."
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