Punstoppable
A list of puns related to "Swing About"
So I wake up in the morning and I step outside and I take a deep breath and I get real high and I scream from the top of my lungs ‘WHAT’S GOIN’ ON?’
Edit: so happy that one of my home-made dad-jokes is so well-received :) thanks, everyone!
I go back and forth on them.
Save them to your Phone and always have witty jokes at the palm of your hand.
3.14 percent of sailors are pi-rates.
5/4 of people admit they’re bad at fractions.
A bartender broke up with her boyfriend, but he kept asking her for another shot.
A brain walks into a bar and takes a seat. “I’d like some wings and a pint of beer, please,” it says. “Sorry, but I can’t serve you,” the bartender replies. “You’re out of your head.”
A cheeseburger walks into a bar. The bartender says, 'Sorry, we don't serve food here.'
A college education now costs $100,000, but it produces three very proud people: the student, his mama, and his pauper.
A couple of cups of yogurt walk into a country club. “We don’t serve your kind here,” the bartender says. “Why not?” one yogurt asks. “We’re cultured.”
A friend of mine didn’t pay his exorcist. He got repossessed.
A friend of mine is known for sweeping girls off their feet. He’s an extremely aggressive janitor.
A guy walks into a bar, and there’s a horse serving drinks. The horse asks, “What are you staring at? Haven’t you ever seen a horse tending bar before?” The guy says, “It’s not that. I just never thought the parrot would sell the place.”
A guy walks into a bar...and he was disqualified from the limbo contest.
A pirate walks into a bar with a paper towel on his head. The bartender says, “What’s with the paper towel?” The pirate says, “Arrr! I’ve got a Bounty on me head!”
A turtle is crossing the road when he’s mugged by two snails. When the police ask him what happened, the shaken turtle replies, “I don’t know. It all happened so fast.”
Armed robbers—some say they’re a drain on society, but you’ve got to give it to them.
Barbers…you have to take your hat off to them.
Can February March? No, but April May!
Cooking out this weekend? Don’t forget the pickle. It’s kind of a big dill.
Dad, can you put my shoes on? No, I don't think they'll fit me.
Dad, can you put the cat out? I didn't know it was on fire.
Dad, did you get a haircut? No, I got them all cut!
Dad: Did you hear about the kidnapping at school? Son: No. What happened? Dad: The teacher woke him up.
Daughter: I have a lot of friends named Nathan. There’s Nathan Miller, Nathan Radcliff, Nathan Lewis… Me: When they are together, do you call them the United Nathans?
Dear Math, grow up and solve your own problems.
Did I tell you the time I fell in love during a backflip? I was heels over head!
Did you hear about the aquatic sea mammals that escape
... keep reading on reddit ➡Update: Thanks for all your applications! Give /u/parin89 and I a few days to take a look and confer!
(if you haven't put your application in yet, you've still got time)
-
Greetings /r/dadjokes subscribers,
Years have passed since this sub started up, and there are now literally millions of you. Whoa.
Two million people is just two many two handle for two moderators. Especially these days, when both /u/parin89 and I have two many other responsibilities and a whole lot less time. I'm 200% sure most of you would agree that more mods are needed.
So we're looking for 5 more moderators to get involved. If you're keen to apply, read the rest of this post and answer the three questions in your comment response.
Answer these 3 questions in your reply:
Only apply if:
We'd benefit from a few practical things as well, it would be great if:
Don't apply if:
We'll leave this stickied for a week and then come back to message a few people and make some selections.
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡He slams the door and returns to bed.
"Who was that?" asked his wife.
"Just some drunk guy asking for a push." he answers.
"Did you help him?" she asks.
"No, I did not! It's three in the morning and it's pouring out!"
"Well, you have a short memory." says his wife. "Can't you remember about three months ago when we broke down and those two guys helped us? I think you should help him and you should be ashamed of yourself!"
The man does as he is told, gets dressed, and goes out into the pounding rain.
He calls out into the dark, "Hello, are you still there?"
"Yes." comes back the answer.
"Do you still need a push?" calls out the husband.
"Yes, please!" comes the reply from the dark.
"Where are you?" asks the husband.
"Over here, on the swing."
My mom was in surgery about a half hour away, and my dad was with her. Once her surgery was over, my dad texted me and told me that she was alright. I said I was going to swing by to see her. He said the drugs were still hitting her pretty hard, and that no matter what she asked for, she was only allowed to have clear liquids. Naturally, I asked him if this means vodka is a go. His response: Absolutly.
One of the guys is about to chip onto the green when he sees a long funeral procession on the road next to the course. He stops in mid-swing, takes off his golf cap, closes his eyes, and bows down in prayer.
His friend says: “Wow, that is the most thoughtful and touching thing I have ever seen. You truly are a kind man.”
The man then replies: “Yeah, well we were married 35 years
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡My youngest daughter hates wearing shoes to the point where I hardly ever see them on her. As a result she often loses them. A few weekends ago my girlfriend dropped me and the kids off at the local outdoor pool so we could get some energy out before a long drive to see family. As expected my youngest barely made it out of the parking lot with her shoes on, and as soon as we hit the grass by the pool she kicked them off and we all ran into the water to play and stuff.
I looked up at that big incomprehensible clock they have at swimming pools and saw that we were running late for that long drive, so we fled the pool rushed around getting dressed, only to discover one ... one of her shoes was missing. I was like ... how the hell do you lose one shoe? So we looked all around, then we went to the lost and found. Strangely there were several other single shoes in the lost and found but not hers. We went back and I called her mom to see if we could swing by and grab a spare pair of shoes.
Some kid next to us overheard me on the phone and said, "Hey did you lose a shoe?" I said, " ... yeah ...?" He said, "Yeah I found it over here -- " pointing like 10 feet away -- " so I took it to the cashier's office." (not the lost and found). My oldest daughter, always helpful, ran to the cashier's office and got the shoe, and all was well! We were only about 20 minutes late. Afterwards I was pondering what I could have done to avoid all that and then it hit me. I just needed to make sure that after my kids take off their shoes they are all in one place.
In other words I had just failed to put shoe and shoe together.
Paul has a shitty life, his wife constantly berates him, his job sucks, his boss is a bully, his car is a shitty 85 ford pinto with a cracked windshield and is in bad need of a new transmission and to top it all off he's chubby, balding, and he has a small penis.
The only thing good in Paul's life is his friend Artie. Artie isn't the brightest bulb in the world, but he's always been there for Paul in the tough times. On October 5, 1953 Artie stood up for Paul against his bully in 7th grade. Artie got his ass handed to him at that time, but so did Paul. That incident resulted in a life long friendship. Paul and Artie went to the same High School together. They traveled around Europe that one summer in college. Artie was Paul's best man at his wedding. Everyone thought speech Artie gave was terrible, But Paul loved it Artie was his best friend.
Artie's life wasn't much better either, he never had the smarts for that great Job. In fact he was stuck in a dead end job as a construction labourer. Artie's car was pretty shitty too. Artie never married, but he was happy in the knowledge that at least he didn't end up with Paul's shitty wife.
For Paul's 46th birthday Artie was pretty broke, so all he could get his friend was a single lottery ticket. Artie being the sentimental guy that he was picked the date of the start of their friendship, and their respective ages (46, 45). Paul loved the present, and thought that the two of them should go to the Legion that friday to split a round of beers and listen to them call out the numbers.
On Friday they are both sitting there at the Legion having a laugh over a couple of beers when the cute lottery girl comes on the t.v. to read out the numbers. Paul pulls out the ticket and spreads it out on the beer stained table in front of them. The lottery girl starts reading out the numbers, 45, 10, 05. Both of Paul and Artie's hearts start beating, thats 200$ already. 53, Holy crap thats like a 10, 000 ticket. They both start losing their shit. 46....... Paul feints. He just won the jackpot. 37million dollars.
Two minutes later Artie finally revives Paul. Paul and Artie celebrate the night away, buy round after round for the people at the Legion and get absolutely shittered. They close out the bar and as the ugly lights come on they stumble blitzed, singing, onto the street arm in arm with the winning lottery ticket in hand and start the long walk back to Paul's place.
Halfway home, Paul comes to two drunken
... keep reading on reddit ➡short conversation about me swinging by and spending tomorrow with her
Me: should I bring anything?
Her: No? Why?
Me: I dunno, I was trying to keep the conversation going, because I'm kind of a fan of you
Her: aw
Her: sorry, I suck at being sappy
Me :luckily for you, I'm a tree
Edit: formatting
So my boss and I are painting a large room and we tend to talk aimlessly about random stuff when working.
We start talking about what the best way to die would be and the topic comes up about beheading and the different methods throughout the ages.
Me: "Guillotine is kinda cool because your head gets sheared off and your still alive and they hold your head toward the cheering crowds and apparently you can still see them, and even move your eyes.
Him: what about by axe?
me: Beheading by Axe would be painful because not only do you not die right away, but sometimes it takes multiple swings to take your head off. It even gets stuck sometimes.
Him: So the Executioner would be having to pry the Axe back and forth like its stuck in a log?
Me: yeah.
Him: What a pain in the neck.
I heartily bellowed in laughter , guffawed even, and gave him props for it.
I start with just having a normal conversation like normal people do while I wait for an opportune time to slip in this story of mine.
The Story:
Did you hear about that kid on the bridge with the brick about a year ago? Yeah, this kid was apparently on an overpass for I-95 (nearby interstate. Locality makes it believable.) with a brick tied to a rope. He just sat there swinging it at passing cars, breaking their windshields just for a laugh. Eventually, the brick got caught in one and didn't come back out like it usually did. Instead, this time, the rope got wrapped around his arm and the sudden yank pulled his arm clean off. The driver tried to sue, but got nowhere because it was a kid. However, the driver was arrested for armed robbery.
Gets groans every time.
I still wore it to the party some of the guys were having.
The night was going well, but this couple kept arguing with each other. I get bumped and my watch falls on the floor. The boyfriend yells, “I’ve just about had it!” As he steps on my watch. He raises his hand ready to swing at his GF and I stop him.
“Hey,” I say to him. “You will not be hitting a woman, not on my watch.”
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."
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."
The man gets up and goes to the door, where a drunken stranger, standing in the pouring rain, is asking for a push.
"Not a chance!" says the husband. "It's three o'clock in the morning!"
He slams the door and returns to bed.
"Who was that?" asked his wife.
"Just some drunk guy asking for a push." he answers.
"Did you help him?" she asks.
"No, I did not! It's three in the morning and it's pouring out!"
"Well, you have a short memory." says his wife. "Can't you remember about three months ago when we broke down and those two guys helped us? I think you should help him and you should be ashamed of yourself!"
The man does as he is told, gets dressed, and goes out into the pounding rain.
He calls out into the dark, "Hello, are you still there?"
"Yes." comes back the answer.
"Do you still need a push?" calls out the husband.
"Yes, please!" comes the reply from the dark.
"Where are you?" asks the husband.
"Over here, on the swing."
I walked into a forest to cut down a tree, once I arrived, I was about to take a swing at a tree, when it shouted, “Wait I’m a talking tree!”
I smiled and said “ And you will dialogue.”
A man and his wife are awakened at 3 o'clock in the morning by a loud pounding on the door. The man gets up and goes to the door where a drunken stranger stands in the pouring down rain.
"Can you give me a push?" he asks while hanging onto the door frame.
"Not a chance" says the husband -- "It's 3 o'clock in the morning!". He slams the door and returns to bed.
"Who was it?" asks his wife.
"Just some drunk wanting a push" he answers.
"Did you help him?" she asks.
"No, I didn't -- it's three in the morning and raining like crazy out."
"Well, you have a short memory" says his wife. "Can't you remember about three months ago when we broke down on vacation and those two strangers helped us? I think you should help him."
The man does as he is told and gets dressed and goes out into the pounding rain and calls out into the dark, "Hello, are you still there?"
"Yes," comes the answer.
"Do you still want a push?" calls out the husband.
"Yes, please!" comes the reply from the dark.
"Where are you?" asks the husband.
"Over here on the swing!" the drunk replies.
Please note that this site uses cookies to personalise content and adverts, to provide social media features, and to analyse web traffic. Click here for more information.
