Well, did you heifer see so many kinds of kine?
What’s your beef?
Who’s asking for a cow pie?
May I please have a Moon Pie instead?
Shall I give you a full moon or just the half view?
Moon pie: is that what you get when you take green cheese and divide its circumference by its diameter?
Isn’t it easier to flatten the cheese with a mallet and then multiply the width by the length?
Do Sam’s moon moves inspire you to cheese abuse?
As in “Whip it, whip it Gouda”?
Are we not menonita?
Are some of us not femme fetas?
Cheesy AND lame!
Is there anything as delightful as a good cheesy joke, unless it’s receiving those text pictures from Brett Favre?
Are we grateful for jokes au gratin, or are they punsona non grata?
Isn’t it time for someone to take the bull by the horns?
Wasn’t that a WW2 movie: Toro! Toro! Toro!?
May I give this an award for a punful grand slam? 
Does the Professor have room on his trophy shelf for another award?
Can’t you tell that from stalkerishly peering in his window, or do we have to steal one of his Pepperdrones besides?
You are aware I’ll have to let Mr. Kent know if one of them goes missing?
Would you have Mr. Kent bring me a Moon Pie while he’s out looking for your Pepperdrone?