Euty, might the punchline go something like this:
“Budapest String Quartet”? That was quite clever; I had to sound it out a few times. I salute you.
Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused his dentist’s anaesthetic? He wanted to transcend dental medication.
A guy entered his local paper’s pun contest. He sent in ten different puns, in the hope that at least one of the puns
would win. Unfortunately, no pun in ten did.
You should be strung up with cat gut, and made to both bow and finger for a thousand nights of festivals. From Santa Fe to Spoleto, your name will be one with all that is atrocious and fouled.
Damned fine pun. I’ll send it along to my entire in-law family, all of whom are string players.
Cartooniverse
<<I’ve been looking for a place to drop this one.
What did the Buddhist monk say to the hot dog vendor?
Make me one with everything.
>>
So the monk took his hot dog, and gave the hot dog vendor a $10. The vendor took it with a smile.
Where’s my change? said the monk.
Ah, said the vendor, change comes from within.
Corr
Did you hear about the country and western singer who moved to Central America to paint surrealist art?
Haven’t you heard of El Salvador Dali Parton?
This pun was created, oh…2 minutes ago. The story I’m kinda making up as I go along. I think it’ll be very long and pointless. Enjoy. I’ll be somewhere far far far away by the time it hits the board:
There was a decorating company that had hit upon hard times. The foreman was about to close up shop when along came Juan who told them he could save the company.
“Juan can save company” Juan said.
“How can you do that?” the foreman asked.
“Juan know what customers like. Trust Juan.”
And so the foreman did. He had nothing else to lose and he hired Juan on for a temporary position hoping, praying, that Juan could get them all back on their feet again.
And get them on their feet again he did. In one month, he increased business by 200%. The next month he increased business by 300%. Everyone was profiting and the customers all loved Juan.
The foreman went to him one day and asked Juan how he did it.
“Juan have good smell,” Juan replied.
“I don’t understand.”
“Juan smell out good pictures. Juan smell out good vases and lamps. Juan just know decorating.”
And the foreman couldn’t argue with that. But it couldn’t be all his smell, could it?
It turned out this wasn’t the case at all. Oh sure, Juan had a naturally good idea of decorations, but his inspiration, as it turned out, came from a disco dancing ant named Ant. Juan wasn’t too original with names. Well, Ant would dance on up to Juan and whisper in Juan’s ear and Juan took over from there, going on instinct and advice.
Well, other companies caught onto this and they ALL wanted Juan to decorate for them. And while Juan was off on another project, a fur supplier called up the foreman and said “We absolutely must have Juan and his Ant decorate our office.”
The foreman said “I’m sorry, he’s on another project right now.”
“We’ll pay you 1 million dollars and all the fur you can handle.”
“Done!” the foreman shouted enthusiastically.
“But remember, it must be both Juan and the Ant. We want this job extra special and so neither alone can do it.”
But, alas, the day came for his job and Juan could tell his sense of smell was deteriorating. And it got worse and worse throughout the day. He couldn’t decorate under such conditions and he came to the foreman.
“Fur makers fired Juan.”
“Fired you? How could they? You’re the best there is!”
[sub]This is long and contrived enough, I sure as hell hope it’s worth it…[/sub]
“Juan’s smell stop foreman! Juan’s jive ant’s steep for mink hide.”
A zoo recently received a donation of a gnu. Unfortunately, at the time there were few spaces available for the creature to live. In fact, the only unoccupied habitats were still under renovation. Until they could give the new gnu a permanent home, they placed it in an area with an unfinished tile floor. In the corner was a pile of tiles and a quantity of mortar.
The next morning the zookeepers were astonished to discover that overnight, someone had finished the tilework in the gnu’s pen. Nobody on staff would admit to having done the work - and since there were several other unfinished pens in the area, no one could figure out why someone would choose to tile a pen with a large, potentially dangerous animal in it, rather than an empty one.
Eager to solve the mystery, the zookeepers moved the gnu to another unfinished pen, and installed a closed-circuit camera to watch over the area overnight. The next morning, while reviewing the tape, they discovered that the gnu itself had installed the tiles!
Of course this was big news, and the media poured in from all over the country to see the strange animal. When asked to comment, the director of the zoo had only one thing to say:
“Well, he’s a typical gnu and a tiler, too.”
Then there was the biologist who discovered that dolphins have no natural life span - that they can live indefinitely if they do not succumb to accidents or acute illness - if they are fed a diet of seagulls exclusively. He was experimenting with a pair of dolphins at a zoo’s oceanarium, and every day he would walk to the beach near the oceanarium, capture some seagulls, and bring them home to feed the dolphins. One day, however, while returning he found a large escaped lion from the zoo lying across his path, sound asleep. He stepped gingerly over the lion, and was promptly arrested for transporting gulls across sedate lions for immortal porpoises.
Are you dead yet? OK, here’s another one:
Three squires returned from the Crusades having been rewarded for their valour with new saddles created from the skins of exotic animals. Squire Christopher had a saddle made from lion skin; Squire Julian had a saddle made from the skin of a tiger. However, Squire Bartholomew weighed as much as the other two put together, so he had to have a special reinforced saddle made from hippopotamus skin. The moral of this story is: the squire on the hippopotamus is equal to the sum of the squires on the other two hides.
Ouch !
There was once a very wealthy king who lived on a small, very very small island. The people of the island thought it wasteful for the king to build a home for himself, and a hut for his throne and all of his royal business. So the king hired the best architect on the entire island to create a system of levers and pullies so that in the day his bed would lift up into the top of his hut, replacing it with the throne, and at night his bed would come down from the rafters and replace his throne for a good night’s rest. Well one night, while the king was sleeping, the pullies broke and the throne fell, killing the king. The moral of the story?
People who live in grass houses shouldn’t stowe thrones.
*stow even…
You must have read the papers. Of course they did.
But Papa Wong still wanted his boy to look like the other kids, so they started him on a beta-carotene-high diet, in order to try to get his skin tone closer to the uh, “local color”. It did work, but when the boy would walk down the street in his neighborhood, the people would point and say
“Hey, there’s Sum Ting Wong with hue!”
A man crash his private plane deep in the Australian outback. He awoke to find himself covered in bandages and lying in a bed in a small white room. A woman he recognized as a nurse leaned over him and asked how he felt.
“Where am I?” the man asked.
“You’re in a hospital in Mercy. You were in a terrible accident, it’s lucky that you survived.”
“I feel pretty beat up. And hungry…may I have something to eat?”
“Of course,” replied the nurse, and left the room. She returned several minutes later with a small bowl from which steam was rising.
“That smells like soup,” the man remarked. “What’s in it?”
“It’s more of a broth, but we here call it tea. It’s made from a few things, but mostly koala meat.” The man thought it a bit odd, but he was so hungry that he quickly drank the concoction. But he was put off by the bits of bone and animal hair he found floating in the broth.
When the nurse returned, he asked for another bowl. “But this time, could you pick out the bits of bone and such?”
The nurse was indignant in her reply: “Sir, the koala tea of Mercy is not strained!”
A bun is the lowest form of wheat. I thought this thread needed some meta-humor.
Now excuse me while I find a hunk of fire hose to make up a shilelagh so I can administer one redheaded stepchild beating.
A fella went to the barber for his annual checkup. The dentist noticed that there were some problems with some of the dental work, in particular, his plate was corroded severely. He wondered what it might be that’s causing it.
“Say, I’ve noticed some corrosion on your dental work. Do you have any unusual foods that you like?”
“No, not really… I eat a normal diet”
“Do you eat eggs benedict by chance?”
“Why yes, yes I do… Why?”
“Well, I thought as much. You see, eggs benedict has hollandaise sauce- and hollandaise sauce has a lot of lemon juice in it, which is highly acidic. I’m going to have to give you a new plate, a chrome plate to be exact.”
“Why Chrome?”
“Well, there’s no plate like chrome for the hollandaise”
Ive got it bad, i hurt all over, opiates dont help, muscle relaxers dont help, i think if i were to stick a 2 guage up my anus and blow myself away, i would be in the afterlife with an insanely bad headache
Ghandi, as we know, went everywhere barefoot, which caused his feet to become very toughened by the terrain. He also, due to his periodic fasting, was frail and emaciated, and bad dental hygiene resulted in fetid breath. That’s why he will always be known as:
The super-callused, fragile mystic blessed with halitosis.
In my younger, more artistic days, I tried my hand at glass-blowing, which can be a dangerous hobby. I was working on a particularly ornate piece, one that required a lot of concentration, and I was sort of oblivious to the goings-on around me. I was in the midst of a critical blow when someone suddenly tapped me on the shoulder. It startled me so that I drew in a sudden breath. Not only was my piece ruined, but I got a pane in my stomach.
I’ve gone over that about twenty times, and I still don’t get it. Must be something I don’t know the original of. So what is it?
I’ll be like the cat who ate cheese and sat by the mousehole: waiting with baited breath.
A hint, Rilchiam–think of an astronaut.
What did the Chinese monk say to the Japanese monk?
“That was Zen, this is Tao.”