A list of puns related to "That's The Way Of The World"
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 ➡He pasta way. We cannoli do so much. Theres nutelling what can happen next... His legacy will become a pizza history. Here today, gone tomato. I can only espress-so much grief, but lettuce romaine calm. How sad that he ran out of thyme. Ashes to ashes, crust to crust. There's just not mushroom left for italian chefs in this world... Sending olive my prayers to his family. His wife is really upset, cheese still not over it... You never sausage a tragic thing. Its such a shame good people die fusilli reasons. It was a farfalle from grace... My condolences for Roberto, who died in the spaghetto. May he rest in yeast🙏🏻❤️
Wow! Im so glad so many people laughed at this joke, I got so much happy feedback from everyone lol thank u sm for all the rewards and upvotes, my week couldnt get better!😁
So there was a man who considered himself the greatest fighter in the world. Every time he got in a fight growing up, he'd win, and it would never even be close. Eventually he ran out of people in town to fight, and he decided that he'd travel the world, looking for all the best fighters, and beat them in combat.
He travels to Japan, China, India, Russia, France, Ireland, going all about the world, fighting everyone who thinks they're the best fighters in the world- and beats them easily. There's no real sense of competition, he just defeats every challenger in humiliating fashion.
But travelling the world looking for the best fighters takes a lot of time, and there's always another person thinking that they're the best fighter in the world, so he issues a challenge to anyone in the world who thinks that they're the best fighter to come to his house and fight.
The day arrives, and HUNDREDS of people have shown up. All of the best practitioners of all the world's martial arts have shown up. There's a group of judoka from Japan, Israeli Krav Maga artists stretching out on one side of the room, the Muay Thai artists are doing light striking to warm up- everyone seems represented here. The guy who started all this says "OK, there are a lot of you here, and the only way we'll be able to finish this today is if we group you all up by discipline, you all form a line, and I'll beat each of you in turn."
So he starts with the wrestlers, who line up one at a time. One at a time they come at him, and none of them last longer than a minute before having their shoulders pinned to the ground. Not only do they all get beaten, but it seems like this guy is actually winning his fights faster as the day goes on! Some of the fighters from the other disciplines watch this display, and they start leaving.
The guy looks at his watch, and realizes that three hours have gone by in fighting the wrestlers. So he gestures to the Muay Thai artists and says "I'll now fight you, but I'll fight you four at a time!" The Muay Thai fighters figure they can knock this guy out quickly, then settle the honor of who the best fighter is amongst themselves, so they line up four by four, rush in, and in a flurry of elbows and knees, they all end up knocked out on the ground. Four by four the Muay Thai fighters rush in, only for this guy to remain standing after all of them. This is intimidating to the other fighters who are watching, and more people start heading home.
H
... keep reading on reddit ➡His best friend, Roy, was known around town for having an adventurous streak that a small town just couldn't satisfy. Roy yearned to travel the world, to rub shoulders with the well-to-do, and to squeeze every drop of excitement he could out of life. While most young folk in town, my grandpa included, were resigned to their lot, Roy was driven by his dream. He worked incredibly hard, taking every hired-hand and handy-man job he could find. He would walk five miles each way to clean a gutter if there was a nickel to be made. His hometown was always spotless, because Roy would pick up every glass bottle he saw to get the deposit back, and every can he found would get turned in for recycling.
The years stretched on. Grandpa settled down with his high school sweetheart in a one-room cottage and had my dad, and not much else. Roy kept hurrying from one job to the next, never spending a dime on a date. Everyone would just roll their eyes and quietly gossip about how poor Roy's obsession was robbing him of a real life.
One day, Roy showed up at Grandpa's house, all decked out in a brand new khaki safari kit, complete with helmet, binoculars, and elephant gun, and announced that he had finally saved up enough for passage to Africa to go big game hunting. He was especially proud of the fine leather boots he was sporting. "Indestructable" he called them, totally impenetrable to water, wind, and snow. No trench-foot for him while he tracked rhinos on the savannah!
Grandpa congratulated Roy on his achievement and wished him bon voyage. Over the next three months, the town felt Roy's absence. Litter lay where it fell, gutters overflowed in heavy rain, small-time farmers rose that bit earlier and bedded that bit later to cover the work Roy used to help with. Of course, the gossipers just turned their chat from how Roy needed a dose of reality to how thoughtless it was of him to just up and leave. Most folks were convinced Roy was gone for good. After all, how could he come back from such a high-falutin' adventure to his tiny, no-account hometown?
But return Roy did, and everyone crowded around at the bar to hear his account of his safari. To their surprise, Roy told them that, for all the time he had been away, he only bagged one trophy that was currently on a slow boat back. It turned out, once Roy got a close-up look at the elephants, rhinos, giraffes, gazelles, and all the fine animals of the African savannah, he lost all heart for hunting. He just couldn't imagi
... keep reading on reddit ➡He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, "My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?" The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, and even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound. A sound unlike anything he's ever heard before.
The Sirens that nearly seduced Odysseus into crashing his ship comes to his mind. He doesn't sleep that night; he tosses and turns trying to figure out what could possibly be making such a seductive sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk." Distraught, the man is forced to leave. Years later, after never being able to forget that sound, the man goes back to the monastery and pleads for the answer again. The monks reply, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk.” The man says, "If the only way I can find out what is making that beautiful sound is to become a monk, then please, make me a monk." The monks reply, "You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of grains of sand. When you find these answers, you will have become a monk."
The man sets about his task. After years of searching he returns as a gray-haired old man and knocks on the door of the monastery. A monk answers. He is taken before a gathering of all the monks." In my quest to find what makes that beautiful sound, I traveled the earth and have found what you asked for: By design, the world is in a state of perpetual change. Only God knows what you ask. All a man can know is himself, and only then if he is honest and reflective and willing to strip away self deception."
The monks reply, "Congratulations. You have become a monk. We shall now show you the way to the mystery of the sacred sound." The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, "The sound is beyond that door." The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone. The man is given the key to the stone door and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. And so it went that he needed keys to doors of emerald, pearl and diamond. Finally, they come to a door made of solid gold. The sound has become very clear and definite. The monks say, "This is the last key to the last door." The man is apprehensive; his life's wish is behind that door! With trembling hands, he unlocks the door, turns the knob, and slowly pushes the door open. Falling to his knees, he is
... keep reading on reddit ➡[and posted a picture of him and his bike on a rest day.] (https://i.imgur.com/IapqomG.png)
Edit: Whoa this is getting popular. I live on the other side of the world, and am about to go to bed, but I am just going to put his [donation page] (http://ccf.convio.net/site/TR?px=3433802&fr_id=1580&pg=personal) at the top of the post if anyone is interested. It is no big deal, but if someone is looking, I thought I'd put it at the top. Either way, you all are going to make his day when I show him how many people appreciated his joke. I just hope this doesn't mean that I have to laugh at all of them from now on...
He asks the assistant “Do you have ‘European Vespidae Acoustics Volume 2? I believe it was released this week.”
“Certainly,” replies the assistant. “Would you like to listen before you buy it?”
"That would be wonderful," says the expert, and puts on a pair of headphones.
He listens for a few moments and says to the assistant, “I'm terribly sorry, but I am the world's leading expert on European wasps and this is not accurate at all. I don't recognize any of those sounds. Are you sure this is the correct recording?”
The assistant checks the turntable, and replies that it is indeed European Vespidae Acoustics Volume 2. The assistant apologizes and lifts the needle onto the next track.
Again the expert listens for a few moments and then says to the assistant, "No, this just can't be right! I've been an expert in this field for 43 years and I still don't recognize any of these sounds."
The assistant apologizes again and lifts the needle to the next track.
The expert throws off the headphones as soon as it starts playing and is fuming with rage.
"This is outrageous false advertising! I am the world's leading expert on European wasps and no European wasp has ever made a sound like the ones on this record!"
The manager of the shop overhears the commotion and walks over.
"What seems to be the problem, sir?"
"This is an outrage! I am the world's leading expert on European wasps. Nobody knows more about them than I do. There is no way in hell that the sounds on that record were made by European wasps!"
The manager glances down and notices the problem instantly.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir. It appears we've been playing you the bee side."
When I walked in the place was great, everything was perfect apart from the kitchen. There were gas mains but no cooker! Work surfaces and water pipes, but no sink; empty plugs and spaces for where the fridge and freezer should sit.
When I bought the house I was told it was fully furnished! Furious, I called up intending to give whomever answered an earful.
I was told that everything should be arriving individually, and the house is being used as an experiment for completely autonomous, self thinking kitchen appliances!
Before I could reply there was a knock on the door. I opened it and a stove strolled in, tilted forward in a bow, slid past me and set itself into its spot! Even attaching itself to the gas mains!
Later that day another knock at the door signalled the arrival of the fridge and freezer.(who had travelled together) They bowed and sat themselves perfectly in place in my new kitchen. I was beaming!
That evening I was explaining to my wife how the appliances had arrived, when came another knock at the door. “This technology is going to change the world, I swear it!” I told her. “Can you answer the door? I’ve been on my feet all day”
“Yeah,” she replied, less enthusiastic than I,“but it’ll get to a point when humans are completely inferior.” She explained “When these machines develop such sentience, what’s stopping them from overthrowing us?” “Treating us as slaves, like we to them now?” She asked, distraught at theses ideas.
Knock knock
“It’s best not to worry about these things,” I said in an attempt to alleviate her fears.
“There are people- professionals developing contingencies for any possible future robot uprising!” “That future you’re frightened about is purely science fiction right now, and the way our collective knowledge and application of technology has advanced, (Even in the past 50 years!) our own scientists and engineers will be able to crush any worries we may have when the time comes.” I explained.
She sighed, agreeing somewhat reluctantly. “Don’t think on it now, have some faith!” I told her.
Knock knock
“Now let that sink in!”
There are now over a million subs for this silly, corny, beautiful feed of dad jokes.
Link to PROOF: http://imgur.com/ksprvA1
A million subs is a big number.
If we put a million subs end to end, we'd be able to reach a very small part of the way around the Earth... Double that if they were foot long subs, and we'd make it all the way around and more if they were the kind of subs that go under water.
That's why I'm amazed.
Well done everyone on being amazing dads with amazing dad jokes. No matter what kind of dad you are - inside or outside expected dad norms - keep the world laughing and shaking their head.
(I'll keep this stickied for a short period of communal celebration and then go back to the shadows as normal. Keep doing you, dads.)
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 ➡I'm Australian, in Australia, specifically southern Australia. Very specifically, southern Victoria. Anyway. I took a long drive on Friday, out to Halls Gap, which is a beautiful part of the world. Oddly, I noticed along the way a significant amount of dead crows on the side of the road. Now I'm of county stock, and I know well that crows (although technically ravens I believe) are an extraordinarily intelligent bird, and it's very rare that you see one fallen by the roadside. As such, it was obvious to me as unusual. So I looked it up, and as it happened there'd been a study conducted regarding the very road I'd driven down. Turns out, this particular road was notorious for dead crows on account of two very basic reasons, the first, it's proximity to bushland which ensured a considerable amount of regular road kill (possums, kangaroos, etcetera) and second, the road was a significant trucking route. It follows logic, although I did not see it at the time, that it was determined that the trucks, rather than the cars which used the road were to blame regarding the amount of dead crows. How so, you ask? I, too, was interested to know. You see, the front of the average car in these modern times is made of plastic and paint whereas the Australian cross-country truck is equipped with a large alloy bullbar. A crow, when hit by a car will have chips of paint transferred onto its feathers whereas one downed by a truck will have none. Now crows are not usually struck by vehicles, as they are a very intelligent bird. As such, they employ a sentry bird, which looks out as the others eat from the road, and warns them of any approaching danger. Such is the intelligence of the crows! So why should they perish by truck in such numbers? The answer amazed me. As it turns out, a sentry crow sees the approaching vehicle and calls to his friends CAR! CAR! CAR! but he can't say truck
[Austin, TX, November 1, 2020] - Although traditionally held outdoors on a single day in the spring, the first portion 2020 the O. Henry Museum Pun-Off competition known as Punniest of Show was conducted via video in October. Now on Saturday, November 21, 2020, PARD will bring you their most popular second segment, O. Henry Museum Pun-Off World Championships Punslingers Competition: Online Edition
This free, fun, and family friendly event will take place online this year, but with special twists, turns, and surprise modifications to make it the perfect 2020 event for the world's competitive wordplay community.
The O. Henry Museum Pun-Off World Championships have been an Austin institution for 43 years. As usual, the contest will feature a cavalcade of word-class wordsmiths from across the globe, all worming their way into your art. Join and enjoy us as they compete to spontaneously spit out the most absurd words you’ve ever heard.
The event will be live streamed at PunIntensive.com.
There was, for instance, the time he conducted a crew of new S.A.R.H. (Society for the Aesthetic Rearrangement of History -BJ) recruits – all from late twentieth-century Terra – on a training study of Carter’s World, a newly established agricultural colony attempting to support itself by the export of edible nuts. Barely into their second generation, and having yet to show a profit, the colonists were technologically backward. Nevertheless, they showed a surprising ingenuity in the use of their few advantages. It was this resourcefulness that Feghoot was demonstrating to his rookies.
“Look at the perfection with which these streets are graded”, exclaimed one student. “Earth-moving machinery on this scale is strictly high technology stuff. How can they do it?”
“A new alleyway is being constructed, nearby”, said Feghoot. “Let us walk that way while I explain.” As they strolled, he told his students that countless centuries before, the Carter’s World system had been inhabited by a now-vanished race of giants. This very planet had served them for a nursery, and among the many artifacts they had left were thousands of childrens blocks, immense and precision-cut. You simply jack one up onto logs, bring it where you want it, put collapsible jacks underneath, snake out the logs, spread soil more or less evenly beneath, and collapse the jacks.
“I see”, said the student. “It’s not graded road at all; its a simple hammered-earth base.”
“That’s right,” Feghoot went on smoothly. “You just hit the road jack and don’t come back no mo.”
His students registered dismay and anguish.
“Isn’t that right, old-timer?,” Feghoot demanded of an ancient Carterian standing by the mouth of the newly completed alley they had just reached.
“Ahm afraid not, suh”, said the senior citizen, and the students giggled at Feghoots discomfiture. “Oh, we used to do it that way, but it was far too much trouble. It’s the soil heah. You see, the very same soil which produced our famous cashews is so high in clay content that a child could roll out a road of it. Then, we simply use a system of lenses to bake it into hardness. Ahve just completed this alley mahself, and ahm just a retired professor of Sports History, much too old and feeble to handle hydraulic jacks.
“So you see,” he finished, eyes twinkling, “Mah hammered alley is really cashews clay.”
Howls of agony rose from the students, but Feghoot never hesitated. “And he”, he said, turning to his students, “is clearly the gradi
... keep reading on reddit ➡A number of years ago I was in a rock band. We were hugely successful, playing some of the biggest venues and entertaining swarms of fans.
The last shoes we ever played were on our world tour. We played the Americas and then flew over to Europe. We played our way through Russia and even a couple of gigs in China, before selling out our final show in Japan.
It was a hell of a Journey, but it was time for me to hang up my guitar. I retired from the rock star life and got an office job in Tokyo.
I made a few friends at work, and grew close with one in particular, Narada-san. One day Narada had the day off for a funeral, but that wasn't enough; he needed more time. He was torn between his obligation to return to work and his desire to have more time at home. He asked me what he should do.
The answer was simple. I picked up my guitar and played a Japanese version of our biggest hit from 1981:
Don't Stop Bereaving
So once upon a time, there was a planet shaped like a cheerio. A small moon made of milk or tied the planet, going through the center of the donut shaped world. On this planet, lived an interesting species. They acted and lived similarly to us humans? But looked just like large Cheerios (with footings hands and feet like miis) Within this society there were levels of Cheerios: original, honey nut, and finally frosted. The originals were the backbone of the economy, doing the herd labor while the honey nuts ran the businesses and the frosted Cheerios (the top of the top) led the world. Our story today focuses on a single Cheerio. Born into an original Cheerio family, this lad learned the hard way how to work. From a young age, he was forced to get a job in the local milk refinery, where his dad worked. He grew up, and soon had a family of his own. His wife, son, and daughter all worked hard, but were happy. One day walking home from school, the kids found a runaway honey nut Cheerio pup, and decided to keep him. It wasn’t much, but it inspired our little Cheerio friend here. One day, he got fed up with taking orders, and demanded a raise. His entire family has worked in this one factory for three generations, and he wanted to move up in the world, not just for him but also his kids. His old boss however, did not have the power to promote this Cheerio, and he was forced to make a life changing decision: he would go to the refinery company and use every penny in the family savings account (under the bed) to try and get a higher position. After waiting on line for over a week, his appoint was finally here. After bickering and bargaining for hours, the refinery company boss saw a spark in this lad’s eye. He agreed to give this Cheerio a promotion to the honored honey nut glaze in exchange for everything this man owned, including the family’s prized honey nut dog. Was it worth it? Well pretty soon he owned his own milk refinery and was able to breed his own honey nut dogs, so yes, yes it was. Owning and operating the refinery went smoothly. Milk was transported from the moon to the planet using space busses, and the milk itself was funneled down to the refineries using large straws. After the milk was ready to drink, it was shipped off to be sold. He was happy working here, but eventually he realized it wasn’t enough. This Cheerio, once a simple original Cheerio wanted to follow the “American dream” and do the best he could. He wanted to become a frosted Ch
... keep reading on reddit ➡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 ➡John Deavensmit was not having a good time. After an incident involving a coffee spill, he'd been sued for $50 million, and somehow the jury had ruled against him. There was no way he could pay that much money; he'd go bankrupt.
Naturally, he filed for an appeal, but the winner of the case was already beginning to hound him for money, hoping to get at least something before the judgement was overturned. John was nearly at his wit's end before he found an unusual package in his mailbox.
It was from a couple of his friends, who all went on to law school when John left to create a startup. They'd all been very successful, and had gone on to be justices at various levels, from courts in a small county in Wisconsin all the way to the Supreme Court. When he opened it up, he was surprised to see an ink drawing of a thick wooden stick. It was signed by his friends, and accompanied by a note:
> Hey John, > > We're sorry to hear about your loss in court last month. We met up at a judge conference in the Davison Center, and we thought that we'd do something special for you. We met up in the Grapefruit Room and all worked together to draw this. We hope you enjoy it! > > Your friends
Now, John had been to D.C. a few times, and knew about the Davison Centre. It was renowned for its very offbeat architecture. The Grapefruit Room was one of the weirdest: it had been constructed by taking a world-record grapefruit, carving out the flesh, and preserving the rind. The result was a walk-in fruit, and it always smelled of citrus.
It took John a while to work out the significance of the gift, but when he realized it, he was overjoyed. His good friends had seen fit to grant him a stave judge-men penned in a peel.
A Retiree's Last Trip to Sam's Club
Yesterday I was at Sam's Club, buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Owen , the Wonder Dog and was in the check-out line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.
What did she think I had an elephant?
So because I'm retired and have little to do, on impulse, I told her that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn't, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.
I told her that it was essentially a Perfect Diet and that the way that it works is, to load your pants pockets with Purina Nuggets and simply eat one or two handfuls every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete, (certified), so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care,because the dog food poisoned me.
I told her no, I had stopped to pee on a fire hydrant and a car hit me.
I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard. Sam's Club won't let me shop there anymore. Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the world to think of crazy things to say.
My dad has this habit of pretending he didn't hear what you said, and then "repeating" it. Like if I said I was going to see an art show, he'll say, "You're going to a FART show? I had no idea you'd have any interest in that!" Lots of jokes along those lines, amongst others.
When I was younger I would laugh because he was kinda funny, and also to make him happy, but as I've gotten older I laugh not JUST because he's funny (in a corny way) but because the fact he still makes these jokes makes me so happy and really warms my heart. My mom is physically disabled, my dad has a bunch of health issues, we've all suffered terribly at times because of all this illness. And no matter how bad it gets, my dad is always there trying his hardest to put a smile on other people's faces and to lighten the mood a bit with his jokes. I've always been the type of girl to mope and be depressed when things are hard, but as I've gotten older I've tried to be more like my old man because I think it's something really special and admirable and selfless about stepping outside of your own negativity to give others something to laugh at or smile about. My dad is such a fuckin hero, I love him so much, and I can't imagine how unbearable this world would seem at times without him trying to make us all laugh.
So to all you dads telling your corny dad jokes, don't ever stop. Your kids and wife might groan or roll their eyes, but inside they love their corny old man and appreciate the goofy puns and fart jokes you tell!
Why did the scarecrow win a prize? Because he stood alone in his field! He stood there for years, rotting, until he was forgotten.
I tell my kids, you’re allowed to watch the TV all you want… Just don’t turn it on! This way they will begin to understand the futility of all things.
How does a penguin build a house? Igloos it together. Like all animals, it is an automaton, driven by blind genetic imperative, marching slowly to oblivion.
Why don’t skeletons go trick or treating? They have no body to go with them! The skeletons are like us: alone, empty, dead already.
I don’t really like playing soccer. I just do it for kicks! Like all of humanity, I pretend to enjoy things, and others pretend to care about my charade.
You hear about the moon restaurant? Good food, no atmosphere! If you eat there, you forfeit your life, which would make no difference to the universe as a whole.
Why did the blonde focus on an orange juice container? It said concentrate! She realized that society’s depictions of her were like the juice: formulaic, insipid, fake.
My wife told me to put the cat out. I didn’t know it was on fire! By the time I could act, it was incinerated, a harbinger of the path we all must take.
How come the invisible man wasn’t offered a job? They just couldn’t see him doing it! This man stands for all of us: unseen, misunderstood, irrelevant.
Today I gave away my old batteries… Free of charge! No one wanted them, so I became angry and threw them in the yard. The battery acid now leaks into the soil, killing a colony of ants. A sparrow eats their bodies and is poisoned. Somewhere in the Serengeti, a lion devours his rival’s cubs. Then the lion is shot by a poacher and sold to an unloved rich man whose father was an unloved rich man. In five billion years, the Sun will become a bloated giant, boiling the oceans and consuming our pointless cruelties with flames. I wake sweat-drenched and screaming, staring at the visage of a faceless god. “WHAT HAVE I DONE?! HOW COULD I BRING A CHILD INTO THIS WORLD!?” But this god, like all gods, is nothing—just my son’s Wilson baseball mitt, sitting on my dresser, mocking me.
Will February March? No, but April May! Soon we become ash, and time forgets us.
Source: https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/nihilist-dad-jokes
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":
So, I'm at the counter in a liquor store, where I see that the cashier is wearing a mock Sons of Anarchy shirt that says, "Sloths of Anarchy" and has a sloth as the logo. As he's ringing me up, I'm trying to think of the perfect way to compliment his shirt. AHA! THIS WILL BE PERFECT
He hands me my receipt and I say, "Hey man, I like the shirt" falling for my trap he replies, "Oh thanks dude, do you watch the show?" My genius reply:
"Yeah I did, but it was kinda slow"
He doesn't even notice and continues to ask if I watched the whole thing. Maybe the world isn't ready for my dad jokes.
NOTE: My friend, the same one from this post, has a sister who's only 6. She has not yet learned the ways of the world, and the fact that it contains me and my terrible jokes.
I stumble into the living room, clutching my stomach and groaning.
Friend: What's wrong with you?
Me: I don't know, but I think I have a serious case of updog.
Friend's Sister: What's updog?
I stand up straight, with a big smile on my face.
Me: Not much, how about you?
Friend: Oh, Christ.
EDIT: Formatting and grammar.
So me and my family were on our way to Florida for a trip to Universal and Harry Potter world. The five of us were crammed in one of the shuttles that you ride to get to the airport from the far hinterland where you park your car. My little brother, ever the curious one, is asking my mom about our upcoming flight. He asks "So where are we sitting on the flight?" My dad, who up until this point hadn't contributed much to the conversation, got the gleam of a dad in his eye. He gave a smirk and, before my mother could reply, said "Well I don't know about you, but I'll be sitting on my ass."
A man is driving down the road and his car breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, "My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?"The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound. A sound unlike anything he's ever heard before. The Sirens that nearly seduced Odysseus into crashing his ship comes to his mind. He doesn't sleep that night. He tosses and turns trying to figure out what could possibly be making such a seductive sound.The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk." Distraught, the man is forced to leave.Years later, after never being able to forget that sound, the man goes back to the monastery and pleads for the answer again.The monks reply, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk."The man sa,ys, "If the only way I can find out what is making that beautiful sound is to become a monk, then please, make me a monk."The monks reply, "You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of grains of sand. When you find these answers, you will have become a monk."The man sets about his task. After years of searching he returns as a gray-haired old man and knocks on the door of the monastery. A monk answers. He is taken before a gathering of all the monks."In my quest to find what makes that beautiful sound, I traveled the earth and have found what you asked for: By design, the world is in a state of perpetual change. Only God knows what you ask. All a man can know is himself, and only then if he is honest and reflective and willing to strip away self deception."The monks reply, "Congratulations. You have become a monk. We shall now show you the way to the mystery of the sacred sound."The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, "The sound is beyond that door."The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone. The man is given the key to the stone door and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. And so it went that he needed keys to doors of emerald, pearl and diamond.Finally, they come to a door made of solid gold. The sound has become very clear and definite. The monks say, "This is the last key to the last door."The man is apprehensive to no end. His life's wish is behind that door!With trembling hands, he unlocks the door, turns the kno
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