I Owe You Guys

So, sometimes I get readers who ask why I write about certain stuff or why I don’t write about other stuff. My answer is always, “I have no idea.” I write whatever pops into my head while drinking coffee in the mornings. It’s really no more complicated than that. But here lately several people have asked me why I stopped doing the dad joke thing. Well, for one thing, I wasn’t aware that I had stopped doing dad jokes. But upon further review, it turns out that I had stopped doing a lot of dad jokes. It wasn’t intentional. I guess while I was in Maine I didn’t feel the need to cheer myself up as much. That’s the purpose of dad jokes and always has been. When the stresses of life start getting overbearing, I look for something funny, preferably in a ridiculous sort of way. Well, there’s nothing funnier than a ridiculous dad joke, in my opinion. Now that I’m back in the real world with all of its uncertainty and anxiety, I’m back to searching the world over for the very worst, most ridiculous dad jokes I can find. Sometimes the search is fruitless. Just like sometimes when you go fishing you don’t catch anything. I’ve got to admit, I’ve burned up quite a lot of my valuable time to come up with what follows, so I sure hope you like them. Besides, it 

has been a while so I figured I owed you guys.

I recently bought a toilet brush.

Long story short, I’m going back to toilet paper.

My wife asked me if I had ever heard of Quasimodo.

I said, “the name rings a bell.”

Guy hears a knock on his door. He opens it and there’s a snail on the porch. He picks up the snail and throws it as far out into the yard as he can. Three years later the guy hears another knock, opens the door, and the same snail is back on his porch.

The snail says, “What the hell was that about?”

Its only a five minute walk from my house to my favorite bar, but strangely, it takes 25 minutes to walk home.

The difference is staggering.

I can’t stand people who take drugs.

…the TSA, for example.

What kind of exercise do lazy people do?

Diddly-squats.

Doctor: Do you want the good news or the bad news?

Patient: Tell me the good news.

Doctor: Alright. We’re going to name a disease after you.

What do pessimists and people with sausage phobias have in common?

They both fear the wurst.