Inhuman Swill : Puns

Happy Pi Day!

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My first summer job was in a cabinetry shop. I worked there all three summers throughout high school. My boss was a crusty old shop teacher whose sense of humor and store of aphorisms had stopped evolving on approximately V-E Day.

He could be one mean sonofabitch. In fact, I can't watch Reservoir Dogs without thinking about him because he looked so much like Lawrence Tierney and said things like "My way or the highway" in so similar a way.

But sometimes he would saunter up and tell a joke, deadpan, like that one with the punchline: "No, you idiots. Pie are ROUND." Then he'd allow himself a tiny smirk of satisfaction and walk away.

Stay rational out there today.

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Let's keep Horan around!

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Let's keep Horan around!
The other day Laura and I were out walking the dog when we spotted a campaign ad on top of a taxi:

Elect Judge Kevin Horan

Yes, our minds went there almost immediately. We imagined his future reelection campaign:

Let's Keep Horan Around!

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What goes up must come down

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Dear Miz Manorz,

I find myself flush with discomfort, and I hope you'll give my predicament a swirl.

At my shared workspace, a sign over the privy clearly requests that writers of the male persuasion put the seat down when finished, yet at least one of my upstanding colleagues consistently leaves it up. I'm about to flip my lid! It not just the effrontery that peeves me so. It's also the idea that my female colleagues, in toto, might judge me the culprit!

In loo of direct accusation, please advise me how I might call this breach of manners to the men's attention without upsetting the honeypot. Your priceless advice is of the first water, and I would be greatly relieved should you bowl me over with your insight. I can handle it, and I don't want anything to hit the fan.

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Eureka!

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Now that I am in the second week of a sometimes debilitating cold, and wondering if it's really something worse, I am reminded of the occasion a few years back when Laura was sick with something similar and visited a doctor in our neighborhood whom we had never gone to before.

He was, it turned out, a fat, hairy Greek doctor with his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a gold medallion, and who reeked of cigarettes. He sniffed near Laura's face.

"Eureka!" the doctor exclaimed.

"Eureka?" said Laura, nonplussed. What had he found?

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Mike Hunt is still Aiken

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Elect MIKE HUNT Aiken County Sheriff
Longtime readers may recall the hilarity that ensued when Laura and I visited Aiken, South Carolina during primary season three years ago. It seems that Mike Hunt was seeking the office of sheriff, and as we all know, what Mike Hunt wants, Mike Hunt gets.

Mike Hunt, snatched in the night.

Well, I'm happy to report that Mike Hunt has made the news again! Mike Hunt has been recognized as the best in South Carolina! Not only that, but Mike Hunt will be honored on Hilton Head. How appropriate!

I was quite delighted to see Mike Hunt getting more exposure than usual. Which is odd because at the same time Mike Hunt has greater coverage. Hmm.

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Pennydreadful Lane

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Confessed hobbit-lover Anthony Lane gets in some good digs at the expense of The Passion of the Lion in this week's New Yorker:

And so to the conceit that, for decades, has stirred both the souls of the faithful and the loins of professional Freudians: first Lucy, then Edmund, then all four children feel their way uncertainly through the folds of a deep, furry passage and into another world.
Yowza!

And later on:

And, if there is Deep Magic, as Lewis called it, in his tale, it resides not in the springlike coming of Aslan but in the dreamlike, compacted poetry of Lewis’s initial inspiration—the sight of a faun, in the snow, bearing parcels and an umbrella. That is kept mercifully intact in Adamson’s movie, its potency enriched by the shy, unstrenuous rapport of his two best performers: Georgie Henley, as Lucy, and James McAvoy, as Mr. Tumnus the faun. The dark joke is that Mr. Tumnus invites Lucy to tea only because he must turn his guest over to the enemy. Thus does Lucy, over toast and honey, learn the lesson known to the heroine of every horror flick: Don’t answer the faun.
Sorry, I don't know what came over me. Could you give me hand up?
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Mike Hunt is Aiken

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Elect MIKE HUNT Aiken County Sheriff
What a weekend Laura and I just had! We arrived back late last night from three days in beautiful Aiken, South Carolina. We were invited by our dear friend Shana, who lives here in the city and was going home for the annual Aiken Steeplechase, an afternoon of horseracing that is one of the biggest events in town.

Shana's father is a successful entrepreneur and state senator. His private jet was dispatched to Teterboro Airport in New Jersey to pick us up Friday morning. There were nine passengers: Shana, her sister, her brother-in-law, their twin infants, Laura, me, Shana's fellow Aikenite-in-exile Joe, and Joe's friend Matt. The jet seated seven passengers, so we were at capacity.

Laura and I stayed for the weekend in an upstairs bedroom in the senator's home in Aiken. We were treated to all the hospitality for which the South is famous (this was my first excursion into the real South), with far more caring and far less pretentiousness than I perhaps had expected.

Saturday afternoon at the Steeplechase was quite an experience. Thousands of cars pulled into neat rows around both the interior and exterior rails of the track, with boisterous but not rowdy tailgate parties everywhere. Wandering from place to place, we ended up at a central tent where Mark Sanford, the governor of South Carolina, dressed down in chinos and a plaid shirt, was shaking hands and breaking hearts left and right.

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The Accidental Terrorist 30th Anniversary Sale

Signed editions
that even a
missionary
could afford.

Order yours now!

William Shunn

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This page is an archive of recent entries in the Puns category.

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