March 17, 2008
I have long thought that wordplay is the mother of invention. We see a need and some pun, some malapropism; some verbal error somehow triggers the idea to meet the need. Now I know this is foolish, but the thought lingers, probably because it is my penchant to pun, as well as my punchant to pen (a pungent pun, for sure it stinks.)
Turning this into a thesis is as foolish as trying to explain a joke. I’m sure that only people who don’t get it explain it. I tease my wife with intentionally bad puns. Why do I do that? It’s the gentlest tease I know and she knows, even while irritated that it’s a foolish expression of love.
It gets in my way when I see the wordplay instead of the words, lose the sense in the game in the playing. Some people can’t read without unconsciously editing. I play. I see peculiar letter combinations, like in bookkeeper and worthwhile. I see lovely sounds like nevertheless and windowsill.
I have a fondness for typos, because sometimes they result in lovely unintentional meanings – I remember I once wrote about a peculiar day and I said, “unusual circustances.” Can’t get any better than that. So here’s my punclusion. Have fun. Play. Practice invention.
On the serious side, spread the word. My coaching classes are great – Some puns; lots of difference making.
The goodness of the true pun is in the direct ratio of its intolerability.
Edgar Allan Poe
A pun is the lowest form of humor, unless you thought of it yourself.
Hanging is too good for a man who makes puns; he should be drawn and quoted.
In the pun, two strings of thought are tangled into one acoustic knot.
I love puns so much that my wife made a sign I hang over my desk:
Caution! Incorrigible Punster. Please Don’t Incorrige.
The teacher dances ‘round me, blowing bubbles,
with me upon my mat in twisted Yogic huddles,
straining every part
to meet with every other .
He swirls the filmy soap in glee, as bubbles
emanate from nowhere and glisten
even in the dim-lit room,
exclaiming “cool,” as a bubble baby comes to float
within another, cradled in the empty sphere.
play; dancing next to effort.
Nothing, forming wisps of nothing,
bursting into space upon the floor,
launching illusions in emptiness
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Contributing Coaching - Creating New Futures
Blogging for the Reading - Making a Difference in how we Create
Michael's Articles - articles that don't fit anywhere else.
Michael's Poetry - Words From My Fingers
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