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Punning Dreams
I used to be a terrible punster. I still have friends who are punsters, but I have spent many decades reforming myself. I don’t think I have originated or cracked a pun in at least a decade. Unfortunately, I do not seem to be fully reformed, since I just woke up from this dream:
A companion and I were walking around the outside of the White House. (I’m not sure who my companion was, just that I knew him in the dream.) Somehow, we had gotten quite close. In fact, at one point, we walked by a window and I saw a very Simpsons-like tableau with the current President and First Lady in bed. The President was thoroughly asleep and catching flies as he snored. (Of course, it was an inaccurate dream, since they wouldn’t sleep in a room on the ground floor.)
We both realized we would be escorted out soon, but for some reason in this dream world, the Secret Service had a reputation for escorting unwanted visitors out very gently. As expected, a Secret Service Agent found us. He was carrying some decorations, and acted as if he needed some help. At first, he asked us if we would carry some of the decorations, but then changed his mind as if he were not sure they would go where he was supposed to put them up. He had us drop the decorations and come to look with him. Of course, he was really escorting us so we would go out the gates and leave the property. We knew what was going on, but played along so we wouldn’t wind up on a list somewhere.
When we exited the gates, there was another formidable building just ahead. (Hint: this building only exists in my dream. It certainly was not in Washington last time I was there.) There were many people coming and going from the main doors, so we walked up to see what it was and read: Richard M. Nixon Aquatic Museum.
My companion was slightly behind me, so I turned to face him when I reached the doors and proudly said, “This must have been where he gave that famous speech. You know, the one where he said, “I am not a crappie!'”* And then I went inside.
Have you ever caught yourself telling jokes or punning while you were dreaming? Any good ones?
* Note: The author of this discussion is not responsible for his sub-conscious as expressed in his dreams.
Published in Humor
I should also admit that it could have been worse. I was planning on perpetrating more Nixon fish puns, but that was when I woke up.
Probably caused by my psychic cry of pain.
Or the whole world’s psychic cry of pain.
Probably – a lot of weird stuff goes on in there, but it all fades away…
Unlikely.
I hate to carp, but now that I’ve had time to mullet over, I have to say that something about this post smelt a bit off.
It occurs from time to time.
I was on a mission to report to this group of people on the dangers of promoting devil worship in public schools. (Why this was up to me, or how I knew, are details I can no longer recall.) After overcoming all obstacles and finding the group I had to reach, I found them in a room, yawning, drumming their fingers on the table, and throwing paper airplanes at each other.
It wasn’t until I woke up that I realized that they were the Bored of Education.
Really, my porpoise was not to encourage you.
Read it anyway, just for the halibut.
This conversation is floundering.
But if Rob Long showed up, it would be foundering.
A tuna-ful interlude:
You people insisting on focusing on one theme for your puns is making me crabby.
Snappish? Or lousy?
You piked my interest. There is something fishy about that dream I hope you are finished. I had to say it just for the halibut .
Don’t cock a snook at me, croaker.
Must not reply. Must restrain myself. Must not encourage them. Must not school them.
Nice! Who was singing bass?
Have you been weighed in the scales and found wanting? The difference between a “good” and a “terrible” punster is in the fish-eye of the beholder.
Like a sturgeon, touched for the very first time.
This conversation needs to go to the main feed, so the trouter world can suffer its turbots.
I comment on posts like this for purely eeleemosynary reasons (I may have spelled that incorrectly, but not by much.)
Would write more, but it’s getting cold outside and about to snow, so I have to find the tractor and put the tarpon.
That one hurt me a bit, Arahant. When I came across She’s puns I could almost see the superior, smirky look on her face when she wrote them.
Punsters are shameless and cruel and ought to be banned from polite society. Of course, Arahant and She would never know because they’ve never been a part of that class.
I hope you two have them out of your system.
As I said, Kent, I tried for more than a decade. It’s just that they come out, even in my dreams. You’re showing your bigotry against Punnish-Americans.
If you think, @kentforrester, that you can just mussel your way into this conversation and tell me to clam up, you’ve got another think coming. I’m not going to let you skate on this.
OMG, She. Quit that. Just quit it!
In this thread, Kent, you’ve got to fish or cut bait.
I had to go feed the cats. Has Kent changed his tuna, yet?
I don’t mean to carp on this, but may all your children be below average and sit on the bench all season when they go out for the high school basketball team. And then grow up to be internet gamers who live out their lives in your basement.
(I had to italicize my pun because I didn’t think either of your two would catch it.)
OMG, you’ve got me doing it.
As close as I come:
Admittedly, though, they are pretty lazy…unless you pop open a can of fish.
Holy mackerel! A cat lover and a punner. They just seem to go together. And not in a good way.