Man, I'm three kids into my adult life. Dad jokes are my bread and butter; Wait, Wait is the mead I wash it down with. I do have the self respect to groan whenever Paula Poundstone makes a joke, though.
I'd like the New Yorker Radio Hour more if David Remnick didn't sound like such a milksop. Dude talks like he has little suspenders for his socks that attach to his underpants