When Chopin — one of my favorites — died, he began to decompose.
No one is born with a sense of humor, and you can’t order one online. Some people are funny and some people aren’t.
Some people who think they are funny, aren’t.
One of my sister’s husbands thought he was funny. Being around him was painful. I had to bite my tongue.
His jokes about German sausages were the wurst.
He said he worked at a bakery because he “kneaded the dough.”
This isn’t going to get any better. My friend Barb Dwyer sent me a bunch of puns, and now that I am through groaning, I thought I would pass them on to you.
There is no such thing as a “funny bone.” Your upper arm bone, however, is called the “humerus,” a homophone of “humorous.”
But tibia honest with you, I know a skeleton who can predict bad weather.
He can feel it in his bones.
All seriousness aside, I took a communism class in college. I am afraid I didn’t do very well. I got bad Marx.
I had a beard in college. After all, it was the 1960s. I didn’t like it at first, but it grew on me.
I met a girl the other day who said she recognized me from a vegetarian club, but I’ve never met herbivore.
When E.T. finally made it back home, his mother said, “Where on Earth have you been?” Isn’t that just like a mother?
My mother once ordered 2,000 pounds of Chinese soup. It was won ton.
I couldn’t remember how to throw a boomerang, but eventually it came back to me.
When we met, I told Jennifer, “I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.”
I told her, “I was once caught stealing a calendar. I got twelve months.”
A friend of mine is a mathematician. Ironically, he’s afraid of negative numbers, and he will stop at nothing to avoid them.
I wrote something for the stage about puns. It’s a play on words.
I just found out I’m colorblind. The news came out of the purple.
I went to see the doctor because I thought I was invisible. The nurse came out and told me, “The doctor can’t see you know.”
On the way out of the clinic, I heard two doctors joking about sutures. They had each other in stitches.
I know sign language. Sometimes it comes in pretty handy.
Arthur Baer said, “It was so quiet, you could hear a pun drop.”
Doug Larson said, “A pun is the lowest form of humor, unless you thought of it yourself.”
I have a friend who is addicted to brake fluid. He told me, “I can stop any time.”
What did one eye say to the other eye? “Between you and me, something smells.”
You won’t hear me tell any insect puns, and you want to know why? They bug me.
When I was in college, a friend of mine set me up with a blind date. He said, “There’s something I have to tell you. She’s expecting a baby.”
I felt like an idiot in the bar wearing nothing but a diaper.
Craig Marshall Smith is an artist, educator and Highlands Ranch resident. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Other items that may interest you
We have noticed you are using an ad blocking plugin in your browser.
The revenue we receive from our advertisers helps make this site possible. We request you whitelist our site.