The Way We Were Puns

I guess we were ahead of the curve

Then I noticed they were outside the mint.

but I said that would be boring.

This is what I got him for Christmas this year:

http://i.imgur.com/3luzi1J.jpg

Down south in the backwoods. Along my way I met a friendly family that took me in for the night. Despite being impoverished they insisted that I stay the night and have dinner.

When we had dinner it seemed they were serving a kind of stew. Quite aromatic. I asked them what it was and the reply I got was “It’s Ma’s Soup Y’all.” I shrugged my shoulders and started to eat. The food was good of course but the meat was quite gamey. So I asked what type of meat it was?

‘Possum.

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

We were talking about all of the songs with explicit lyrics on the new Ariana Grande album this morning and my 7-year-old son blurts out: “Her name should be Sweariana Grande!” I like the way this kid’s brain is growing!

The tigers were having a great time, roaring, baring teeth and in general having a great time. The cats were sitting quietly off to the side. The tigers asked the cats, “Why so quiet ? Don’t you like to have some boisterous fun ?” The cats replied, “Oh yes, we used to be tigers too. Until we got married.”

PS. (This sounded way better when my friend told me in the original Malayalam language slang poocha-pulee)

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

So my 1st Born came into this world on Monday night and we were discharged on Thursday. Upon leaving our room, we were given a metal cart to place our belongings on including our son (in his car seat). As we made our way to the garage, I noticed that when the cart was rolling his car seat would rock a bit. I took this opportunity to exclaim “hey (son’s name) you’re really rockin’ ‘n’ rollin’ now.” My wife then truly realized what is in store for her.

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

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

Scene- Me, at dentist, having teeth removed. She was having a bit of trouble with some of them and this was while she had instruments in my mouth. There's some pain after maximum amount of anesthetic she can give me. Asks me how I'm doing.

Me- There is some pain in the teeth after numbing but it isn't anything I can handle.

Dentist- Last time you were here we didn't have a problem but this time your teeth are being a major pain in the butt.

Me- My teeth are a pain in the butt? No wonder people say I talk out of my ass way too much.

She had to stop for a bit to finish laughing.

They were taking a walk but were way too close to each other given the social distancing orders. When I confronted them about the need to keep at least 6 feet apart, one of them looked at me dumbfounded and said, "We're just trying to flatten our curves!"

We were laughing all the way to the bank.

It was my son's birthday, and we were doing a Thomas the Tank Engine theme. Went to the party supplies shop, and one of the things we got for the party was a helium balloon with Thomas on it. Gave it to him, told him to hold on to it, otherwise it would float up into the sky, all the way to the moon as Peppa Pig phrases it.

Anyway, I'm looking around and I notice something weird... there are Transformers helium balloons, Peppa Pig helium balloons, Barbie helium balloons, Thomas of course, various superheroes... but I notice the complete absence of Elsa and Anna on these balloons. But Frozen must be the most popular theme ever for girl's birthday parties, I would have thought. So why no Frozen helium balloons?

I asked at the counter, and they told me that they used to have them, but they got too many complaints. Apparently every time a parent gave the balloon to a kid, she'd just let it go...

[from NPR-- this sub doesn't allow link posts]

The annual turkey pardon is a silly tradition, and President Obama knows it. On Wednesday, before pardoning turkeys named Tater and Tot, Obama summed up his feelings about this particular duty.

"It is my great privilege — well, it's my privilege — actually, let's just say it's my job to grant them clemency this afternoon," Obama said.

Not in attendance for the president's final turkey pardoning ceremony were first daughters Sasha and Malia Obama, who gamely laughed alongside their father last year. So instead, the president's nephews Austin and Aaron Robinson stood by for what Obama called his "corny-copia of dad jokes about turkeys."

And thus began a pun-fest for the ages. Here's a list of President Obama's groaners from this year's pardoning ceremony:

"Actually [Sasha and Malia] just couldn't take my jokes anymore. They were fed up."

"What I haven't told them yet is we are going to do this every year from now on. No cameras, just us, every year. No way I'm cutting this habit cold turkey."

"Tater is here in a backup role just in case Tot can't fulfill his duties. So he's sort of like the vice turkey. We're working on getting him a pair of aviator glasses."

"I want to take a moment to recognize the brave turkeys who weren't so lucky. Who didn't get to ride the gravy train to freedom. Who met their fate with courage and sacrifice and proved that they weren't chicken."

[After touting positive economic indicators and the low uninsured rate] "That's worth gobbling about."

"We should also make sure everyone has something to eat on Thanksgiving. Of course, except the turkeys, because they're already stuffed."

"When somebody at your table tells you that you've been hogging all of the side dishes, you can't have any more, I hope that you respond with a creed that sums up the spirit of a hungry people: 'Yes, we cran.' "

"Look, I know there are some bad ones in here, but this is the last time I'm doing this, so we're not leaving any room for leftovers."

"And now from the Rose Garden, Tater and Tot will go to their new home at Virginia Tech, which is admittedly a bit hokey." (The Hokies are the Virginia Tech mascot.)

"And so let's get on with the pardoning. Because it's Wednesday afternoon and everyone knows that Thanksgiving traffic can put people in a foul mood."

[from NPR -- http://www.npr.org/2016/11/23/503178220/president-obamas-2016-turkey-pardon-dad-jokes-the-definitive-list?utm_source=facebook.com

So this needs a little backstory.

About 10 years ago my wife and I went to see the comedian Jim Gaffigan in Santa Rosa, CA where we live. About 2/3 the way through his set, he did an old Steve Martin bit. I leaned over to my wife and said quietly (or so I thought,) "Steve Martin called, he wants his bit back."

Apparently Mr. Gaffigan heard me, because he did the last 1/3 of his set staring at his shoes.

Flash forward to last night. We were at a public event with TONS of people, loud music, dancing, whatever. Some guy walked by wearing an outrageously funny outfit, and I leaned very close to my wife's ear to make a comment about it. She mildly upset and said, "Don't do a Jim Gaffigan," she said.

I blinked and leaned in again and said, clearly: "You mean...Don't make a Jim Gaffe Again?"

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.

“Maybe the real Horcruxes were the friends we made along the way.”

Once upon a time there were three little pigs, Pork Chop, Hambone, and Bacon.

The boys lived at home with their mother. One day their mother said, “I no longer have enough food to feed you boys, you need to go out on your own and find your fortunes.”

Not wanting to upset their mother they left the house together to seek their fortunes.

Several miles into their journey Bacon, the little pig everyone liked best, said, “Let’s build our houses here! This seems like a great place to start making our fortunes.”

Pork Chop and Hambone agreed. So they all began building their houses.

Pork Chop, the laziest of the bunch, decided to build his house out of straw, which he apparently stole from a nearby field. It was not a very sturdy building material, but Pork Chop didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play all day, and he didn’t want to spend too much time building.

Hambone was willing to work a bit harder and he decided to build his house out of sticks which he procured by de-limbing every tree within a 300 meter radius of their homestead.

Hambone and Pork Chop were happy. Now all they had to do was to play and sleep the rest of the day.

Now Bacon was a hard worker. He knew that his brothers had used bad materials and shoddy construction methods and he wanted to build the best house he could. He found several tons of bricks stacked in neatly ordered pallets in the forest which he decided to use for his building material. It took him several days, but when he was done Bacon had the best house on the homestead.

The next day a wolf, Scott Howard, happened upon the pig brothers and their new homestead. He spied the straw house and smelled Pork Chop inside and began to think to himself that Pork Chop would make a mighty fine meal, so Scott went and knocked on the door.

Scott said, “Little Pig! Little Pig! Let me in!”

Pork Chop replied, “No way José! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”

Scott, undeterred by the reply says, “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crappy straw house to the ground!”

Scott began to huff and puff. He was evidently having some sort of asthma attack, but after a few tugs from his handy dandy rescue inhaler, he was able to muster enough wind to blow Pork Chops straw house to the ground.

Pork Chop narrowly escaped Scott’s massive jaws. Scared, and now homeless, Pork Chop ran for the nearest shelter he could see. Hambone’s house.

Scott, undeterred, chased Pork Chop to his new hiding place. Scott was very pleas

In the version they're doing, the bass section plays a bit at the start, then just sits there til the final part of the last movement. So, they decide to leave the concert and go out for drinks.

While at the bar down the street, they meet a European nobleman, and they become good friends. Unfortunately, the guy had been gorging himself on crappy bar food, and he quickly falls into a food coma.

One of the basses drunkenly checks his watch and says, "crap! We're not going to get back on stage in time!" As they're sprinting back, one of them says, "actually, I thought this would happen, so I tied some of the pages of the conductor's score together - that way, he'll have to slow the tempo way down with his right hand while undoes the knots with his left!"

And so they get back just in time to finish the Symphony, and the audience is none the wiser. The conductor, however, was furious.

After all, they'd left him at the bottom of the 9th, with the score tied, while the basses were loaded, and the Count was full.

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

Back a few decades, I was working in a program with a local college in the Middle East.

The name of the program for ExPats has the clever acronym of "IDEA" (hey, I said it was clever); which stands for "Inter-Departmental Educational Adjunct". It's interdepartmental because my particular specialty not only covers field geology but also paleontology and a bit of archeology thrown in for good measure. Everyone hopes to have a good IDEA...

ahem...

Well, we saddle up and head for the Dune Sea out in the west of the country, where the Precambrian, Cambrian, Silurian, Cretaceous, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and Holocene crop out and access is relatively easy and non-injurious.

Well, we caravan out, some 30 Land Cruisers, Nissan patrol, and the odd Mitsubishi Galloper strong. We all get our maps, compasses and split up into 5 or 6 special interest groups ("SIG's"); where each IDEA has his own GPS and LIDAR laser ranging apparatus. Reason being, that there are very few benchmarks out in the desert, and even those are constantly at the mercy of the shifting and ever-blowing sands.

Since we're split into groups and at any one time, ranging up to and including some 50 km2, when a real find is located, a device called the "DIME" (Digital-Interface Monitor Encoder) is attached and programmed into the GPS for location later; it is a digital sort of low-frequency transponder, developed from technology used by offshore drillers and jacket setters where benchmarks are even more transitory.

The way it works is rather simple. When something is to be marked for later retrieval, a series of wooden posts are pounded in a triangular manner around the find and the DIME is set, programmed with the GPS and attached to one or more of the posts.

That's the theory, at least.

Everything works well, especially all the hardened electronics and computer gizmos, but attaching the DIME to the stakes is the real problem. It can't be nailed, screwed or fastened with any sort of metal contrivance as that farkles the magnetic field and causes all sorts of goofy spurious signals. Zip ties don't last long in the heat and duct tape is right out. Many sites have been lost to the shifting sands this way.

Velcro doesn't work too well, as the sand fills the hooks of the receiving piece of velcro and soon renders it useless. String or fishing line work, but that's temporary (they melt). Glue or mastic are out as these are supposed to be temporary. Even plastic sleeves don't work due to the heat out

If your onion sang hip-hop, would that be a rapscallion?

I used to be an astronaut, but I got tired of eating out of satellite dishes. I wasn't allowed to eat the Milky Way, even though I had to look at it every day. The worst thing was, I never got to visit The Space Bar. Then, when I was visiting the dark side of the moon, I was bitten by a parasite. Now, you might think it's crazy, but the doctor who removed it called it a lunar-tick.

If "womb" is pronounced "woom" and "tomb" is pronounced "toom", shouldn't "bomb" be pronounced "boom"?

China recently tested a new steroid. It basically turns you into The Hulk. The side effect is it could turn you into a crazed zombie that tends to rip the upper extremities from people. People are saying that this could be the zombie apocalypse. In my opinion, lips have nothing to do with it. I call it ARMageddon. The only way to stay safe now is to not let anyone close enough to disarm you.

I recently was going to join the railroad union. I decided against it because it's complicated. If I received instruction on driving the locomotive, would they call it engineering, or training?

I got a sad story about a flower. I don't know who the heck she pissed off, but damn, now she's a Black-Eyed Susan.

I finally figured out what makes leaves angry. Fall. They get so mad they change color. Some are yellow. They're just afraid and run from their problems. The other ones usually just leave.

I went parachuting with my military buddies once. We landed on a department store. I told him I think we're at the wrong coordinates. He said: "Nope. We're right on Target"

I asked a psychologist if Native Americans have strong emotions. He said "Oh yeah, they're intense".

If a psychotic person thought something made sense, would that thought be psychological?

If Matt Damon were searching for a secondhand store, would he be Goodwill Hunting?

My friend is a Marksman for the military. One day, he went to the armory and asked for 3 snipers. They gave him a candy bar. It was a 3 Musketeers.

I want to be there if Dwayne Johnson ever uses a pizza stone. That way I can smell what "The Rock" is cookin'.

Christopher bought a lemon, and the car broke down. Now Christopher Walken.

Have you heard about the latest bank battle on Wall Street? Capital One and Chase got in a fight and Capital One.

You know what a pirate says to his wenches when he sees the shoreline? "LAND HO!"

A man finds a lamp in the desert and dusts it off. Poof! A genie p

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.)

She was talking about having guacamole for the super bowl and we were talking about going to trader joe's.

Me: Trader Joe's has some pretty good guac that we could pick up.

Her: No way, I make my own. I'm in search of perfection.

Me: So you not only talk the talk, you also guac the guac?

Some of them were pretty strange: only he could understand them and explaining the 'pun' to somebody else would take like half an hour. Anyway-

He said, "So I'll go first?"

I said sure.

I think he took "pun-a-thon" a bit too literally - he took out a marker and drew a point, and then he kept drawing this straight line (he's good at drawing straight lines) while taking how many ever steps back. I for one was concerned, because first off I didn't know how long I'd have to stick around for this, and second of all, I didn't know if I could clean the mess he'd inevitably leave behind.

He kept drawing this line! We stepped out of my living room, then my apartment which was on ground-level, and he kept drawing it. He drew his line all the way through the corridor, up until the entrance to the building, and when I kept asking him if he's done yet, he didn't say a word. I had to keep subtly reassuring security and everyone who was staring at my friend hunched over like that robot from Wall-E.

He stepped out of the building and kept on drawing his line. At this point I was trying to guess what the hell is the outcome. I kept screaming punchlines at him like "is this where you draw the line?", "are you going to punch me after this so this is a punchline?" and shit like that. There were people following us and two were taking videos and it was really fucking uncomfortable.

Right after he was outside the building and the premises, he started to draw this stunning drawing of the building right on the pavement. It was almost magical, as if he had been commissioned to make an ad for my place but for a million bucks. At this point the people who were following us didn't even get pissed off because they were so engrossed in his drawing. I was surprised the marker kept going on.

After about 20 minutes - he was a real quick draw (no pun intended) - he stood up and a crowd of two dozen clapped and cheered for him.

I told him, "Dude that looks fucking amazing, but I thought we were in a pun-a-thon. Why such a long set-up?"

He replied, "Yeah it was pretty drawn out."

(for more drawn-out jokes like this, visit r/feghoot!)

So this is a bit long, sorry about that.

Zorro and his best bud the Lone Ranger were riding through the desert one day, I forget where they were heading to or where they had come from, but we can safely assume shenanigans of some kind were the driving force.

They have been travelling for most of the day and are starting to get tired. There has been a discussion about making camp for the night, but as things are they have agreed to continue riding for a while longer, till the sun starts to set. Away and off to the west the Lone Ranger spies a plant that seems to have large pink flowers that hang in strips with white stripes running the length of them.

"Zorro, what's that over there?" he asks.

Zorro turns in his saddle and raises his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "Ah, it looks like a bacon tree, quite common in these parts. Let's ride on, there is a good place an hour from now to set up camp."

The two friends ride on and as the sun is beginning to descend the have stopped and are making camp. As Zorro begins to make a fire he says to the Lone Ranger, "You know, I quite fancy some pork. You ride back to that bacon tree and get some for supper, and I'll finish setting up camp here."

"No problem Zorro, I won't be long" replies the Ranger, jumping back into the saddle and returning the way they came.

Time passes, and the sun begins to get low in the sky. 'Odd', thinks Zorro 'he should be back by now.' Another hour passes and the shadows are growing longer. 'I might have to go investigate, it's not like him to take his time.' More time passes, and, just as Zorro has decided that he must go search for his friend in the dwindling light, he hears the sound of Silver's hooves. Looking into the gathering gloom he sees his friend riding towards him. As the Lone Ranger nears Zorro can see the Lone Ranger is injured, there are cuts and bruises and he has an arrow through his hat.

"What on earth happened, Lone Ranger? Did you make it to the Bacon tree?"

The Lone Ranger dismounts and sighs heavily.

"That weren't no Bacon tree, Zorro. That was an Hambush."

So we were driving to the Ikea and I saw a bunch of young cows getting released into a field next to the highway. I pointed it out on the way back but she couldn't see them right until the last moment. She said they were hiding. So I said they were camouflaged... cow-moo-flaged

The look on her face was priceless.

We were chatting in the car talking about how her brother wants to get into medicine as a doctor or become a teacher.

Her: Yeah he wants to either become a teacher or a doctor, I think he'd be best as a teacher because he has a lot of patience. Me: Well yeah he'd have that either way.

We were at the dinner table with my adult children and my son said he was teaching his physics class the concept of simple machines. He had given the class a brief intro about their usefulness and how they can be found everywhere. Then he asked the students to come up with all the examples they could think of.

My daughter, barely containing herself to wait for a pause in the conversation, said with only the slightest of grins, "So the lesson would be 50 ways to love your lever?"

My dadness has been passed on. Nothing left for me to do here.

Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.

To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.

I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.

Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.

You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.

The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.

The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.

Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.

Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.

But so far, I've quit cold turkey.

My family was taking our grandmother back to a town in New Jersey. On the way there we were discussing how we were getting there, and our grandmother remembers a town we have to pass through on the way there. The town is called Mahwah.

So she says, "Does this road go to Mahwah.

To which my dad replies, "It sure does, but it also went today and yesterday".

If you don't get it, try reading it out loud.

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

A young lady approached my wife and me at the park while we were watching the kids play. She asked if we would like to buy some Girl Scout cookies. We happily accepted and talked to her for a moment while she showed us the options and told us about each type of cookie. We made our selection, and she went on her way.

I failed to ask her which ones were made from real Girl Scouts.

I sincerely apologize for this oversight, everyone. Can I still be a Dad?

I got a hostess at Disney today.

As we were checking in for a dining reservation, the hostess asks, "Does anyone have a Birthday?"

To which I reply, "We all do... but none of them are today."

My wife's eyes rolled so far, I think they went all the way around.

I was out to lunch with a few colleagues at a local Chinese buffet. The way seating is laid out, we four were seated at a long table with a couple on either end of us. The couple to my left received their fortune cookies and the lady cracked hers open. I heard her disappointment as she told her husband in anguish "There's no fortune in mine! My fortune cookie has no fortune!"

I looked at her and said "Ma'am, that's unfortunate." All my colleagues collectively sighed, and my buddy across the table from me said "You know what scrovak, that was so bad, she gets your cookie now."

The lady was delighted both at the joke and the new cookie.

His jeans were still tight. We were at lunch and he said, "you know what these jeans and a small hotel have in common? No ball room." I'm 33 with my first son on the way and my dad can still get me.

Hi Folks, If you are a linguist then I am selling your dream car! I’m selling an Accent, a 2004 Hyundai Accent to be precise. Even if you don’t know a bunch of languages, this car is still great for you.

Just like me, it’s been around the birthday block a few times, but there’s still lots of life left in both of us, I guarantee! If you are looking for the perfect body, seek out a surgeon. If you’re looking for a car that will love you just the way you are, this is it. Now I know what you’re thinking, “I bet this is a junker”, but you’d be wrong. Next to my wife this is the best body I’ve ever had my hands on.

What’s wrong with it mechanically you ask? Nothing! It drives great, A/C & heat still work like a dream, breaks work, transmission shifts good, and the 1.6L engine runs great. With its age, the engine has had some parts replaced. All the belts have recently been changed, that happens with age as I just went up a few sizes myself. The washer fluid pump has been changed because it’s important to be able to have a good cry once in a while. I did an oil change in the summer and depending on how long it takes for this car to finds it’s new match, I will do another in the next month or so.

Since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I’ll give you a run down of what the interior is like. It’s what’s on the inside that matters anyway right? I am the 3rd owner of this car and the previous owner was a smoker. I don’t believe there is a cigarette smell anymore but the cloth seats do have little holes in them. I mean hey, when you play with fire you get burnt right? The stereo head unit has been replaced with a modern Pioneer as the original just wasn’t in tune with my musical needs as a Dj. The only real problem this pretty young thing has is the passenger rear seatbelt does not retract. Since I have two mini controllers I taxi around, I’ve had car seats in the back and have had no reason to replace the seatbelt yet. A new one is only a cool $250 from Hyundai but will take some time for delivery. There are still 4 working seatbelts in the car so if you’re traveling with another couple, I’m sure they’ll love to cuddle up in the middle and behind you, the driver.

The trunk is spacious enough for the average trunk but just doesn’t work out so well for hauling Dj gear. The rear seats fold as easy a poker player having their bluff called, so it will give you extra room. Not much more that I can think of to tell you about but take a look at the plethora of p

To annoy a female housemate we were flicking bits of sweetcorn at her hair. In response, she escalated the game and threw an orange into my face.

The only way i got through the ordeal was because of what another of my housemates said next. After a long silence, as im holding my face he says "..hell hath no fury like a woman corned".

Background: My wife is pregnant with our first, and her great grandmother had over 20 single births. So we were talking about labour:

Me: Don't worry, love, you've got great genes for labour.

Her: Yeah, I know. : S

Me: But you're really going to have to take them off. They'll definitely get in the way!

I live in South Carolina, sort of near the coast, and Hurricane Florence is headed this way. My two youngest children--total cowards--were helping me clear out all of the storm drains and curb gutters on our street to help the expected 10-20 inches of rain drain as best they can. Any time any insect flies past them, they scream bee and run away screaming. I'm talking like they're afraid of butterflies. My youngest says that Winter is her favorite season because all the bees are dead.

So, we finish up, and I go inside ahead of them, making them put the shovels away, and I hear, from inside, them running and crying/shrieking across the front porch and inside the house.

My youngest, amidst her sobs, says, "It was as big as a baseball" and holds the one I keep on my desk up for comparison.

I think make the B sign in ASL with both of my hands, stand up and say "BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ" at them while they run away in fear, and when the middle child says, "THAT'S NOT FUNNY" I keep moving towards them with my B hands while saying, "DO YOU WANT ME TO JUST LET YOU BEE? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

I'm a great dad.

In science today we were discussing chemical reactions, more specifically ones resulting in light.

Science teacher: "Have any of you seem that show '1000 ways to die'?

Most answer yes.

Teacher: "Well one episode some guy decided to inject himself with the contents of a glow stick to make his veins glow. He died."

Without thinking about it, I stand up and loudly blurt out: "He wasn't too bright, was he?"

Groans galore. I was so proud.

This is the story of Jack and the Beanstalk, after the story ends. After chopping down the beanstalk, Jack realizes that he’s actually pretty damn good with an axe, and casual vegetative vandalism really struck his fancy, so he began chopping down other trees for a living. He became a traveling woodsman, and he enjoyed many years of his simple life of manual labor.

One day, as he chops wood, he hears screams from a nearby cottage. Hurriedly breaking in (because recall: jack has no problem with entering houses uninvited), he sees a cross dressing lycanthrope attempting to devour a little girl dressed all in red and her little grandmother too. Wielding his trusty axe, Jack murdered yet another fantasy creature, and safely led Little Red all the way back home. Answering the door was a beautiful woman of around his age. After sending Little Red to bed, the two of them talked for hours.

One thing led to another, and a year later they were married with a child on the way. They had a beautiful little boy named Jack Junior who followed in his father’s steps to become a woodsman. This was fortunate, because as Junior grew up, Jack was feeling the pain of his previous adventures. An old back injury from jumping from the beanstalk was haunting him, and over time his posture grew more and more hunched. He had a tough time working, but at least Junior was becoming a strapping young man.

One day, Jack and Junior took the long road to the grandmothers place to bring her a meal, just like that fateful trio Red took so many years ago. When they arrived, the grandmother greeted them cheerily, welcoming them in and making conversation. “Oh Junior,” she said, “you’ve grown into such a handsome and strong young man. It’s so kind of you to handle all the work so your poor father, with his bad back and all, doesn’t have to. Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?” Junior hesitated. “Well Grandma,” he replied. “It’s because... I’m gay”. The close-minded, set-in-her-ways grandma’s expression became stormy. She pulled poor hunched-over Jack into adjacent room, and whispered angrily: “Jack, your life is a mess! Your posture is terrible and your son isn’t giving me any grandsons!” Jack replied: “Ma, we’re happy, you can’t just-“ But she interrupted. “No excuses!” She snapped. “You need to straighten your lumbar, Jack!”

So I work in a restaurant and one of the duties shared by the servers is marrying ketchups, which is basically just pouring half full ketchups into each other so we don't end up pouring new ketchup on top of old ketchup.

A new server asked me the best way to do this so I took her back to the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of ketchup and proclaimed:

"If anybody knows of any reason why these two ketchups should not be joined in holy condimony, let them speak now, or forever hold their mustard."

She laughed, other servers were unimpressed.

Two friends from Boston getting ready to go to a party, Mike and Doe. They decided to make a few large sized bowls of guacamole for the party since there were going to be several people there.

It took them some time to prep and make, but in the end they had about five punch bowl sized bowls of guac. Mike looked Proud of their accomplishment but his friend started to freak out.

"How are we going to get this to the party? We can't take the bus, or the sub, and we sure as hell can't walk all the way there! Mike what the hell are we going to do?"

And Mike said.

"It's ok, Avocado."