The Revels Puns

He was dissed by the prose at a rave.

Certain related tribes in sub-Saharan Africa often raided each other's villages when most folk were herding animals. Sometimes they would take vegetables and water, but more often taking little things, to gently mock each other. It was all in good fun. After a successful raid, the "winning" tribe would celebrate by dancing under the stars, or in one of their large, grass-covered spirit houses.

One day, the Imaqi took their Satari shaman's sceptre. The following day, the Satari not only stole the sceptre back, but also the Imaqi chief's regalia.

It went back and forth, until, on a rare and daring escapade, three Imaqi warriors stole the Santari chief's throne. They put it on display, above their chief's throne in the spirit house.

The Imaqi thought that this was hilarious, and as it was beginning to rain, made merry and danced in the spirit house. Suddenly, the heavy throne on display fell down and killed a number of the dancing revelers.

The moral should be obvious: those who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.

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

more like dad revelations. I was pulling up carpet and padding Sunday because we adopted two very rude Husky puppies last year that like to urinate in the house. As I was working, I was listening to Parliment Funkadelic on Pandora and I came to the realization that I was listening to P-Funk as I was dealing with pee funk.
Another thing that happened the same day was I took an opened bag of bird feed out of the closet to pull the carpet up and when I looked at it a bit later, I saw beetles all over the bag and crawling on the counter where I had set it. Probably 40 of the little suckers. I had to text my wife about that one. "Honey, I've got bad news. Our bag of bird feed has been infested with beetles. Yes, our bird feed has been infested with... more bird feed."
Anyway, just thought I would share. Carry on with the groaners.

Being tired and weary, the lawyer-onion isn't sure whether to go, but decides he needs cheering up.

So he dresses smartly, puts on his favorite aftershave and heads over to his friend's.

He gets to the party to find it quite a packed affair and heads over to the bar - fighting through crowds of reveller-onions - to get a drink.

As he gets to the bar, he notices in one corner a slightly out-of-place female onion.

She looks a bit sad and being the compassionate onion that he is, he heads over to talk to her.

This is quickly affirmed as a good move, as they hit it off immediately; she was abandoned by her friends shortly after arriving and had been minding her own business ever since, but over a night of drinks and talking, they quickly fall into an infatuation and soon end up spending an oniony night of passion together.

When they awake in the morning, they don't find it awkward and a steady relationship between the two is struck.

This lasts a good while, having its ups and downs like any college relationship, but eventually the day comes when they both graduate.

The two couldn't be happier!

They both get jobs close to one another and move into an apartment together.

One day, the partner-onion is anxiously awaiting the lawyer-onion at home.

She's been ill all day and checking has confirmed her suspicions.

She tearfully - and joyfully - breaks the news to the lawyer-onion; they're going to have a tiny baby-onion together.

A shallot, if you will.

A few days later, this prompts the lawyer-onion to propose to his heretofore girlfriend-onion.

They are soon wed, having a fantastic wedding-day and husband and wife-onions are on top of the world.

The day comes of the birth and no complications - a tiny, healthy baby onion is born to two proud parents.

Seeing this little bundle of oniony love in their arms causes them to fall deeper in love than ever.

Over the next few years, husband-and-wife-onions' lives are fantastic.

He's prospering at work, she's really enjoying taking some time to raise the baby-onion and over time the baby-onion grows into a hale and hearty toddler-onion, who then becomes a child-onion.

One day, the idyll of the onions' lives is shattered when tragedy strikes.

The lawyer-onion (now a partner-onion in a prestigious law firm due to chance and hard work) is at work, and mother-onion is washing dishes and watching her child play in the yard.

She glances away to take another plate and turns her vision back to

http://imgur.com/ybauBYJ

Log on to Facebook, look at the post from your father, cringe a little at your parents on Facebook, once you're over that... cringe at the joke, and finally revel in the always wonderful dad humor.

My parents are both immigrants from Taiwan and came in the mid 80's. We've always owned restaurants (currently have a Japanese steak house this is important for later) so their English isn't all that bad and has improved over time. I've never gotten a single dad joke from him. Ever.

Que yesterday we are driving home from a family dinner to celebrate his birthday. We all get into the vehicle and my mom says in Chinese "You've got something hanging onto your shirt, it looks stringy. Is that a spider web?"

I respond, "What? That's his pet, he can't raise a pet spider?"

Dad says, "Yeah I raise them really big and fat so we can make spider rolls at the restaurant." (Spider roll is typically softshell crab in a roll with other stuffs for the non-sushi fans out there)

I groaned, chuckled, then reveled in all that was my first dad joke. It was awesome. Thanks for reading guys! Sorry it's so long.

I did laundry earlier (the dreaded task) and afterward I was putting it up. When I was just about done, I noticed there was only one sock left. I said to my roommate "Never fails. I always lose a sock when doing laundry." Then a second or two later I lifted a shirt up and the missing sock fell out. I then said "Would you look at that? It's the last sock. I guess you could say that was a socking revelation." Even I groaned slightly because of that one.