501 VERY DAD JOKES & CORNY PUNS

 (My books are available on Amazon at this link.)

Almost a year old, I wrote 501 Very Dad Jokes & Corny Puns that escaped from the mind of David L. Hatton. This book doesn’t announce a departure from my usual soberness in writing but a peek into an area of my true personality as a wordplay addict. The first “dad” joke on the front cover is a sample of the silliness that awaits the reader inside the book. Happy groaning, if you choose to buy it, and try not to let them get stuck, if you roll your eyes as you read.

Below is an apology that you might want to read before investing time and money in my silliness. Or you may want to check out a few samples from the first few pages. This is easily done by going to its paperback webpage on Amazon and using the helpful “Look Inside” feature for a perusal. If you do decide to read the whole thing, which I hope you will, please leave me a comment here or give it a review on Amazon. Thanks!

501 Very Dad Jokes & Corny Puns

"Foreword, Preface, Introduction, Apology"

Those who’ve heard my sermons or know the kind of books, essays and poetry I usually write won’t find here my normal level of seriousness. If you bought this book anticipating gravity and sobriety, feel free to weep now or just read a few pages and then cry. Alternatively, you can say what my dad used to say after hearing jokes that were groaners: “Laugh??? I thought I’d never start!”

Actually, I’m not apologizing for this sad or bad attempt at dad humor in the common sense of the word apology. I’m trying to devise a defense (Greek: apologia, the word’s ancient meaning). I don’t know how saying sorry became its modern usage, but the closest the Greeks probably got to an apology was: “Sorry you can’t see my point, but here are my logical reasons to clarify everything.” My reasons may be more personal than clear and logical, but I offer them anyhow in my defense:

• Comic relief: I needed a break from the seriousness of my work as a hospital nurse and as a pastor of seniors. The great dramatist Shakespeare inserted episodes of humor to break up sad or serious parts of his plays. Perhaps he did so more strategically than I’ve done, but just as it became a habit with him, so it became habitual with me.
• Medicine: Proverbs 17:22 says, “A cheerful heart is good medicine,” and I believe it. But two other cautionary truths accompany that bit of wisdom. The most obvious is an old saying that may become true for many readers: “One person’s medicine is another person’s boredom.” (I had to substitute boredom for the original word poison, because only overdoses are lethal, although preventable.) The second caution is about self-medicating. Unless a healthcare authority you trust prescribed this book of “very dad jokes and corny puns,” be aware that the responsibility for choosing to read it is totally your own.
• Endorphins: I need ’em! We all need ’em! This part of my defense is mostly personal and even selfish. Endorphins explain the physiology behind “good medicine” in my preceding reason. True laughter releases endorphins from the brain, and they make you feel better physically and mentally. Straining at feigning polite laughter at these jokes and puns will produce only annoyance and stress… no endorphins. But, as for me, I usually laugh hilariously at my own jokes and can feel the endorphins flowing! If you can’t laugh authentically at my puns, try laughing at the silliness of my own laughter at them, and you’ll get the same beneficial endorphin effect.

A last apologia… If I’ve included a pun or joke similar to one you’ve heard, I claim no blame, at least, no more than poem-readers ignore. The locality of my originality is the same as came from the cerebral stores from which poetry pours. Language itself is the culprit shelf from which a punster draws to exploit its flaws.

Don’t worry, jury. With that last bit of pleading my case with rhyme, the defense rests....

— DLH