Billy K. Baker -- On Bad Puns

I’ve heard puns are the lowest form of humor; yet they are my favorites … which says something dreadful about me, I guess. In case you care, my second favorites are “backwords”—words that when spelled backwards yield another recognized word. Take, for instance, the name of the anti-acid product, “TUMS,” or the beer, “STROH’S,” or the first name of actor, LIAM Neeson. I suppose enjoying a backword is itself pun fun, but a backword seems different from your standard, run-of-the-mile pun. Maybe that means there are various types of puns: a subject I refuse to pursue, or vice-versa. The worst thing about my puns, I guess, is that they are bad puns, or so people have told me … although you have to wonder about someone who stoops to judge the goodness/badness of a pun. Surely those who disdain puns would disdain to judge the merits of particular puns. Wouldn’t that be like having an accomplished musician judge a belching contest? But, I suspect that even the loftiest among us enjoy puns, especially bad ones. If true, that confirms what I have long assumed: that there is a little perversity in all of us. I make no claim of originality, by the way. With millions of minds grinding away on our common lexicon, the same puns must surely have been produced many, many times. And it is likely I’ve heard such puns and forgotten them, only to be delighted when they surface in my mind and I momentarily take credit for thinking of them. Besides, puns aren’t composed, like a Beethoven symphony; they’re discovered, like the Pythagorean Theorem. When viewed in that light, maybe puns aren’t so low after all. ~~~~ Here are some outrageously bad puns: Is a sick elk an “ilk”? An elk clings to a cliff, holding on for deer life. I always “let sleeping dogs lie”—don’t know how to make them truthful. A ship’s officer from a European republic—Czech mate. Why oysters won’t share their beds—they’re selfish shellfish. ~~~~ Then there’s the guy admiring a nearby mountain, “Its top may be flat, but it’s a real butte!” Home is where the hearth is. A hockey player serving penalty time is a jock in the box. The original Pony Express was probably the Pawnee Express. Nowadays, the Pony Express is celebrated with a demonstration run, sort of a Puny Express. ~~~~ Have you heard of the Westerner so anti-Catholic he named his ranch “Bar Nun”? The feline I purchased insists on voting. Guess the pet shop sold me a poll cat. Too many crooks spoil the broth. Last night I went to a saloon and saw black birds sipping beer. Guess it was a crow bar. An enthusiastic cheese maker shouts, “Whey to go!” ~~~~ As the frustrated bachelor said while trying to mend his hosiery, “Darn those socks!” Wake up and smell. Transylvanian stew: ghoulish goulash. Transylvanian street market: bizarre bazaar. Confucius say: Skunk stuck in cactus makes for yucky yucca. A neighbor told me I could thaw my icy sidewalk by spraying it with skunk oil. Result: ice melt. ~~~~ A favorite dish on an African safari: lion loin. What has feathers and flies? Why, a dead chicken, of course. Neckwear for a hog: a pig’s tie. When the barrel of oil arrived at our banquet wearing a checkered suit, everyone said it was crude. A freshman arriving home after failing every class. “Hi dad. Long time no C.” ~~~~ Wildcat crawling out of a sewer: lynx stinks. If the opposite of satisfaction is dissatisfaction, why isn’t the opposite of eased diseased? Boisterous voting to select a nominee: raucous caucus. All politics is loco. ~~~~ Smelly Egyptian statue: Sphinx stinx. There’s one thing you can say about repetition. It bears repeating. Man doing push-ups in church. Preacher asked him why. His answer: “I was told to exercise religiously.” It is better to have a cross to bear than vice versa. Question: What Carthaginian crossed the Alps to eat Romans? Answer: Hannibal the cannibal. ~~~~ As Napoleon said to his troops, “March 4th!” As the Scandinavian ox said to its partner, “I guess the yoke is on us.” An actor struggling to put on his footwear: “The shoe must go on.” There once was an ancient man famous for two things: he predicted future events, and he had an enormous nose. I think his name was Nostrildamus. If you are finished being pensive, does that makes you ex-pensive?       Never miss the local news -- read more on The Fallon Post home page. If you enjoy The Fallon Post, please support our effort to provide local, independent news and make a contribution today.  Your contribution makes possible this online news source for all things Fallon.