I walked passed a rock shop the other day with a rather indie friend of mine. He mentioned how he really doesn’t like gemstones, saying that “They’re like the top-40 of the rock world.”
I said, without hesitation, “So, you prefer the indie rocks then?”
I think I’ve gotta marry a guy who appreciates puns as much as he did that one.
I kill me!
I collect tribute albums. One I bought several years ago was for the heavy metal legend Judas Priest, and featured songs by underground acts like Iced Earth, Angra, Stratovarius and Virgin Steele. I’d never heard any of these bands before, and since their contributions weren’t very good, I figured that they all sucked. How wrong I was…after downloading several mp3s and buying a few CDs, they turned out to be some of the best metal bands to emerge in a long while.
In other words, I learned never to judge a band by its covers.
I’m sorry but these puns aren’t that bad, in fact that last one was pretty clever. Now this one is just awful… it’s so bad it hurts.
One night my friends and I were disusing the fact that urine is sterile and safe to drink. One of my friends offered that he had to make use of the restroom and would gladly whip up a glass for any of us. Apparently the reptilian portion of my brain failed to prevent the transmission from reaching my lips, and I replied:
“No thanks, it’s not my cup of pee.”
Oh man… I told you it was bad.
I’m not sure what the worst pun I’ve ever heard was, but I got a well-deserved series of punches for one I made a few weeks ago:
So anyways, CLAYTON_e was at my house, and for some reason he likes to wear old political pins. Anyway, he made a remark about how his Hoover pin kept falling off and he couldn’t keep it pinned to his coat anymore. My incredibly intelligent and witty nature as it is, I replied with “Damn Hoover”.
I still want to know what the deal with the OP pun is. Would somebody please explain?
I’d poke *The Man With the Golden Gun with my machete to explain it, but everyone knows the pun is mightier than the sword.
To mobo85:
Read what the project was about.
One day after our Chemistry class was just too…high-school-studentified for our teacher, Mrs. Dunn. she snapped and launched into a fifteen+ minute tirade about how we were rude, lazy, loud, disrespectful, mean, the decay of western civilization, etc.
She closed it with the fateful lines, “Okay. I’m done.” (awkward silence). “Mrs. Dunn.”
Getting collectively ripped into for half a half an hour I could take, but it took a real excersize iof self-control not to burst after that.
A professor of genetic engineering proceeded to clone himself, with partial success. The clone was his equal, with the exception that his foul, evil, and nasty qualities were brought to the maximum in his clone.
The clone was doing great damage to the professor’s image, such that the professor invited his clone to a meeting at a high point overlooking the valley, pushed his clone over the edge, to his death.
Thereby he observed the first obscene clone fall.
There was this guy and he had a girlfriend called Lorraine who was very pretty and he liked her a lot. One day he went to work to find that a new girl had started. Her name was Clearly and she was absolutely gorgeous. He became quite besotted with her and after a while it became obvious that she was interested in him too. But this guy was a loyal man and he wouldn’t get involved with Clearly while he was still going out with Lorraine. He decided that there was nothing for it but to break up with her and get it on with the new girl. He planned several times to tell Lorraine but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. One day they went for a walk along the river bank when Lorraine slipped and fell in to the river. The current carried her off and she drowned.
The guy stopped for a moment by the river and then ran off smiling and singing: “I can see Clearly now Lorraine has gone”
That’s what I thought! It’s a play on “fetus,” right? Funny.
You got it.
Here is sick pun.
Q: What did the chicken say when it had sex with the farmer?
A: It cried foul.
bastard.
So many puns, so little time: These are all from the school at which I work:
That’s all I can think of at the moment.
One day in the Vatican, a cardinal runs up to another cardinal and says, “I just had the greatest idea! Even better than the Virgin Birth!”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“Joshua, son of Nun!”
“I don’t get it.”
The first cardinal then realizes they were speaking in Italian, where the pun doesn’t work.
Isn’t this against some sort of pun code, using names that aren’t really names? (A person named “Clearly”?)
What about “Claire Lee”?
My proudest moment in punnery came when a co-worker told me that her husband was “an inveterate punster.”
I said, “You mean he’s got no spine?”
An extended version of this is on one of Nancy Leibowitz’ buttons:
Invertebrate punster. Spinelessly unable to resist a pun. So Slug me.
My pun story addition:
An orchestra was playing a Beethoven program, finishing up with the Ninth Symphony. Since they had so little to play, the Bass Viol players used to sneak out for a drink near the end, coming back for the finale. On one occasion, they got severely snockered, and were unable to make it back in time. In order to prevent the conductor from finishing without them, one of them had secured the last pages of the score with string. As the conductor plowed through to the last movement, he noticed with alarm that part of his string section was missing. His concern was only natural because…
It was the Last of the Ninth, the Score was Tied, and the Basses were Loaded.
Real-life bad pun:
I was working in the optical lab, trying to index-match some solid material to a liquid. In this situation, the solids virtually disappear, becoming invisible. I was going to look for them afterwards by using interferometry, looking for the small variations in index by noticing distortions in the interference fringes.
The mixture of solid and liquid was, of course, a “slurry”. This caused one co-worker to triumphantly announce:
“Oh, I get it. You’re looking for The Slurry with the Fringe on the Top!”
They didn’t find the body until many weeks later.
In Italy, time goes so fast…
Everywhere you look a Dago’s by.