h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

well thats not much pun then, is it

We need to make these into a .

We've had pages to come up with them after all (that works even without the pun though). And some of them should be left out, they are absolutely sh€€t.

So lets leaf them alone and and try to spined the best one.

A blonde girl enters a store that sells curtains. She tells the salesman:
- I would like to buy a pink curtain in the size of my computer screen.
The surprised salesman replies:
- But, madam, computers do not have curtains...
And the blonde said:
- Helloooo.... I've got Windows!!!!!!!!!

*drags self to corner and hides under blanket*

Oooops - am I late?

I do hate not being Pun-tu-al



Bassman

You're such a joker.

I like to sit at my computer and eat
pie a la modem.

Sherlock Holmes had to be THE consummate White Anglo-Saxon Protestant stereotype. Born to privilege, endowed with finances that afforded him luxuries and status, a mind of genius proportions, observation skills that missed not even the minute details of common living; all these things made him a legendary sleuth of the Occidental world. After many years, and countless adventures, the perennial bachelor finally decided to settle down and make his own family. Marriage to a beautiful woman of high-borne lineage brought a sweet bliss to Holmes’ life, and she even graced him with a fine young boy.

The lad grew and, fueled by his scholarly environment and the memoirs written by Dr Watson, began a career of criminal investigation in keeping with his father’s former trade. He was even beleaguered by his own generation’s archenemy, Les E. Musical, who would leave a tune playing at the scene of each crime—inevitably with lyrics appropriate to the nature of the misdeed. Holmes’ son eventually took it upon himself to bring this nefarious nemesis to justice and did everything within his power to track him down. He followed his trail across Europe, to America, doubled back through Iceland, and lost the spoor after returning to London, England.

At his wit’s end and nonplussed by his own inability to bring the case to resolution, he approached his father for assistance, knowing he would surely see something that had been overlooked. True to form, Holmes narrowed the scope of investigation with a few specific questions. It came down to a set of footprints his son had examined shortly before the trail grew cold.

“Son, did you note the type of rock embedded in the prints? Its structure is particular to a region of Dover, near the coastline. That’s where you’ll find your man.”

“But father, all the evidence I have points to his return to Iceland…”

“That is simply a red herring to through you off his track, my lad. Iceland is a volcanic island and composed of igneous rock. The residue you found in the footprints clearly points to the rock shelves of Dover. Please tell me that your heritage stands you in good stead to finish the deduction process!”

“If this isn’t igneous rock, then what kind is it?” asked the young man querulously.

“Why, sedimentary, my dear WASP son. It’s sedimentary…”

B4isettledown

Recently, the Minnesota Orchestra was doing Beethoven's Ninth under the baton of Milton Katims.....
Now at this point, you must understand two things: Firstly, there's a quite long segment in this symphony where the bass violins don't have a thing to do. Not a single note for page after page. Secondly, there is a night club right across the street from the Minnesota's Orchestra Hall, rather favored by local musicians.
It had been decided that during this performance, once the bass players had played their parts in the opening of the Ninth, they were to quietly lay down their instruments and leave the stage, rather than sit on their stools looking and feeling dumb for twenty minutes. Well, once they got backstage, someone suggested that they trot across the street and drink a few brews.
After they had downed the first couple rounds, one said, "Shouldn't we be getting back? It'd be awfully embarrassing if we were late."
Another, presumably the one who suggested this excursion in the first place, replied, "Oh, I anticipated we could use a little more time, so I tied a string around the last pages of the conductor's score. When he gets down to there, Milton's going to have to slow the tempo way down while he waves the baton with one hand and fumbles with the string with the other."
So they had another round, and finally returned to the Opera house, a little tipsy by now. However, as they came back on stage, one look at their conductor's face told them they were in serious trouble. Katims was furious! And why not? After all...

It was the bottom of the Ninth, the basses were loaded, and the score was tied.

I expect he told them to guitart of there.

What do you get when you drop a piano down a mine shaft?
A flat minor.

What do you get when you drop a piano on an army base?
A flat major.

Why is an 11-foot concert grand better than a studio upright?
Because it makes a much bigger kaboom when dropped over a cliff.

Why was the piano invented?
So the musician would have a place to put his beer.

Crushingly funny.

I think it's time for some humble pi,an'no 'but's this time!

*taking notes*

"Osgood is the pianist..."

"I didn't know Osgood played an instrument."

"He doesn't. He just goes to the bathroom a lot. He's the pianist one induhvidual that I know."

B4

"Of course it's a good idea to put a bell on the cat! But which of us is going to do it?"
---A. Nonny Mouse

I've always wanted to play piano, but just don't have the talent.

Would this be a case of pianist envy?

My aunt called me the other day and asked, "Does it do anything but rain around there?"
And I said, "Yes, sometimes it's windy."