Amphigouri: varnished nonsense

My dad has a weird sense of humor.

This was the opening line for one of my college application essays, written ’bout 15 years ago, give or take a couple years. It was not a particularly well-written discourse; I rambled on about some words of wisdom my father used when we were young, a phrase I found highly amusing at the time, and the actual merits of the words (I suspect the essay was something along the lines of ‘tell us about a time when you learned a lesson’ or some such). Despite the questionable quality of my writing, the opening sentence is quite true. My dad does have a weird sense of humor. As kids, we were often subjected to what many other people consider to be one of the lowest forms of humor [or so I gather from their reactions ]: the pun. Unfortunately for others, I have inherited this sense of humor (or have merely been brainwashed - you decide), and it is often with what can only be described as perverse glee that I read these “jokes.” Increase this glee five-fold to measure my delight in inflicting the pain of a particularly nasty pun on friends, acquaintences, and coworkers. There’s nothing remotely so satisfying (ok, so I exaggerate. slightly.) as sharing a particularly wretched turn of phrase and having it met with under-the-breath curses, groans, and an immediate acknowledgement that it will be passed on to several other unsuspecting “victims”.

I’ve collected many puns over the years, many of which I also found listed at
http://www.ahajokes.com/funny_puns.html . Below I’ve included the best renditions of three of my favorites. Read at your own risk, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.

You know that all potatoes have eyes.
Well, Mr. and Mrs. Potato had eyes for each other and they finally got
married and had a little one — a real SWEET POTATO whom they called “Yam”.
They wanted the best for little Yam, telling her all about the facts of
life. They warned her about going out and getting half baked because she
could get Mashed, get a bad name like, “Hot Potato”, and then end up with a
bunch of Tater Tots.

She said not to worry — no Mr. McSpud would get her in the sack and make a
Rotten Potato out of her! But she wouldn’t stay home and become a Couch
Potato either. She would get plenty of food and exercise so as not to be
skinny like her Shoestring cousins.

Mr. and Mrs. Potato even told her about going off to Europe and to watch out
for the Hard Boiled guys from Ireland and even the greasy guys from France
called, French Fries. They also said she should watch out for the Indians
when going out west because she could get Scalloped.

She told them she would stay on the straight and narrow and wouldn’t
associate with those high class Blue Belles or the ones from the other side
of the tracks who advertise their trade on all the trucks you see around
town like Frito Lay.

Mr. & Mrs. Potato wanted the best for Yam, so they sent her to Idaho P.U. –
that’s Potato University where the Big Potatoes come from and when she
graduated, she’d really be in the Chips.

But one day she came home and announced she was going to marry Walter Cronkite.
Mr. and Mrs. Potato were very upset and said she couldn’t marry him because
he’s just a COMMON TATER!

Bell Ringer

A priest puts an add in the newspaper for a new bell-ringer and
the only applicant to reply is some fellow with no arms.

“You realize what this job requires,” asks the priest.

“Sure do,” replies the no-armed man, and I can assure that I am
the best man for the job.”

The priest is perplexed. “How do you plan to ring the bell with
no arms?”

The no-armed man, of course, cannot pull the bellrope and instead
he rushes to the top of the bell tower and proceeds to dive
head-first into the side of the bell. The bell peals beautifully.

The alarmed priest rushes to him. “My God, man, if you can do
that every hour your hired!”

And so every day, on every hour, the no-armed man dives at the
bell and smashes it head-first. Until one day he misses and flys
out of the belltower, falling 300 feet to his death. On the
ground a crowd gathers and one of the onlookers rushes to the
side of the fallen man.

“Dear Lord!” he screams to the gathered throng, “does anyone know
this poor fellows name?!”

From the crowd, the priest says, “Well, I don’t know his name,
but his face rings a bell!”

The day after the tragic accident, the priest put another ad in the
paper requesting applicants for the job. Shortly thereafter, a man
came to his door to ask about the ad.

“Father, I’ve come to ask a favor. It was my brother who was recently
your bellringer and met with his untimely death. I would like
very much to be allowed to ring the bell in his honor today.”

The priest, being very sentimental, of course agreed, and led the
man to the belltower. Wanting to ring the bell just as his brother
had done, the man took a running start and collided with the bell
head-first. Unfortunately for him, he had not the same constitution
as his sibling and was knocked quite senseless by the blow;
in a dazed state he stumbled around the belltower and accidentally
fell out the tower window to his death.

The crowd once again gathered around the fallen bellringer, a concerned
onlooker once again wondering aloud who might _this_ fellow be.
The priest replied,

“I don’t know his name, but he sure is a dead ringer for his brother!”

Hale

One day, an elderly woman was walking along the street, coming home from the supermarket. Her bag of groceries was especially heavy
that day, and as she passed Nathan Hale’s Used Cars, she got an idea that she could drive herself to the store and save a lot of shoe leather, time and aching muscles. She walks into the car dealership and, as it just so happens, gets the owner himself. He asks her what kind of car she wants and she replies,

“Well, sonny, I can’t remember the name exactly, but it has something to do with hate or anger.”

The owner replies, “Well, let’s see… Oh yes, you want a Plymouth Fury! We have a couple on the lot. What color do you prefer?”

The lady has some trouble explaining the exact color to him, so she reaches into her shopping bag, takes out an ear of corn, strips
down the shucks and says, “I want this color sonny.”

To which Nathan replies, “Ma’am I’m sorry, but we don’t have any in this color. Could I show you a nice blue one?”

“No son, I want this color.”

“But ma’am, they didn’t make that color! Maybe a cherry red one would suit you?” says the owner, obviously worried about losing a sale.

By this time, the old lady gets mad, and starts throwing things at the owner, thereby chasing him out of the office and into the lot. One of the salesmen, coming into the office from the back door, notices the disruption and asks the secretary what the old woman was so upset about.

The secretary replies, “Apparently, Hale hath no Fury like the woman’s corn!”

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