I’m Planning On Being More Spontaneous In The Future.

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”

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Pun Day is here again.

I’m sure you’re delighted!

So here is the latest assortment of word play jokes.

Enjoy or endure.

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Did you hear about the scarecrow that won an award?

He was outstanding in his field.

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The dealer asked me ‘how much are you willing to pay for the car?’

‘1500, tops’, I responded

‘OK,’ he replied, ‘but they better be short sleeved’.

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If I had a penny for every time someone

gave me their dog to look after,

I’d have a pound!

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I phoned 911 to report my bike being stolen in the park.

They asked, “What does it look like?”

I replied, “It’s big, green and full of swings.”

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Isn’t it odd that funerals always begin

not with sorrow but with fun?

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Female Ninjas

Now there’s something you don’t see.

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The case against a donut thief

turned out to be full of holes.

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When the TV repairman got married

the reception was excellent.

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I’ve been sleeping with this bloke’s wife and today he sent me this text:

“You go near her again and ill have you dead! Mark my words!”

To which I replied:

“8 out of 10, I’ll requires an apostrophe and a capital I.”

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When Vincent van Gogh cut off his left ear,

his right ear was left.

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I failed my medical school entrance exam because of nerves.

The correct answer was blood vessels.

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To some – marriage is a word…

to others – a sentence.

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Saw a dude squatting behind a gravestone in the old graveyard.

I thought “What is he doing? I’m letting him know that I see him”

So I shouted “Morning!”

And he shouts back, “Nah, just taking a dump.”

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Headline taken from the Peterborough Evening Telegraph:

“MPs call for jobs blow to be reversed”

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Never mind the fifth Beatle, what about the other

three hundred and fifty seven Degrees?

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Oh Bits!

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”

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One would imagine that cemeteries would be rather sad and sullen places, and at the time of a bereavement I suppose they are for the relatives concerned. 

But with the passage of time or if you aren’t personally involved they can also be places of great historical interest. 

And they can be places where one can find a great deal of humor. 

Nowadays people seem to be less and less emotionally prepared and equipped to handle and understand death.

In the past this was not the case. 

If proof of the latter were needed all one has to do is to look at the inscriptions on some of the headstones found in old cemeteries. 

Here are a few examples of what I mean. 

Enjoy.

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Ann Mann 

Here lies Ann Mann, 

Who lived an old maid 

But died an old Mann. 

Dec. 8, 1767

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Here lies my wife:

Here let her lie! 

Now she’s at rest

And so am I.

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He was young

He was fair

But the Injuns

Raised his hair

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Here lies the body

Of Margaret Bent

She kicked up her heels

And away she went.

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Rebecca Freeland

1741

She drank good ale,

good punch and wine

And lived to the age of 99.

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Stranger tread

This ground with gravity.

Dentist Brown

Is filling his last cavity.

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Here lies the father of 29.

He would have had more

But he didn’t have time.

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Here lies the body of poor Aunt Charlotte.

Born a virgin, died a harlot.

For 16 years she kept her virginity

A damn’d long time for this vicinity.

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Here lies the body of Mary Ann Lowder

She burst while drinking a Seidlitz powder.

Called from this world to her heavenly rest,

She should have waited till it effervesced.

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Blown upward

out of sight:

He sought the leak

by candlelight

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His foot it slipt

and he did fall.

“Help; Help” he cried

and that was all.

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Sir John Strange 

Here lies an honest lawyer, 

And that is Strange.

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She lived with her husband fifty years

And died in the confident hope of a better life.

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Here Lies Mary Smith 

Silent At Last

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Here lies

Johnny Yeast

Pardon me

For not rising.

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Memory of an accident in a Uniontown, Pennsylvania cemetery:

Here lies the body

of Jonathan Blake

Stepped on the gas

Instead of the brake.

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In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery:

Here lays Butch,

We planted him raw.

He was quick on the trigger,

But slow on the draw.

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Lester Moore was a Wells, Fargo Co. station agent for Naco, Arizona in the cowboy days of the 1880’s.

He is buried in the Boot Hill Cemetery in Tombstone, Arizona:

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On Margaret Daniels grave at Hollywood Cemetery Richmond, Virginia:

She always said her feet were killing her

but nobody believed her.

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Owen Moore

Gone away

Owin’ more

Than he could pay.

Battersea, London, England

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In a North Carolina cemetery on the headstone of a spinster postmistress:

Returned–Unopened

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