Wake up America, they are coming for your puns. The American dream, passed on from father to son since our Forefathers (or was it five?), has revolved around the use of puns to teach, boost morale, and keep our families safe. But not for long. Now it’s being called “assault with a dadly weapon” and there’s a call for “common sense pun control.” They call me a “write wing” activist, and try to limit the number of jokes in my magazine that I thumb through in my down time. This is punconstitutional.
Just the other day I was shopping for some new furniture and I told the sales associate that my recliner and I go “way back,” but it’s time for a new one. What I received in return I’ll never forget–the manager accused me of “excessive farce.” I met his cold stare and reminded him that verbal “assault” could use a little verbal “pepper.” I left before more words could be exchanged. They thought I’d take their harassment like a lazy boy, little did they know I am a lazy man, and I refused to be PUNished for my clever wit.
The media has been relentless with their pun buy-back programs leveraging a pundemic hoax–all of which was punconstitutional. It was as if they opened pundora’s box. I tried calming down by grabbing some breakfast and a coffee at a local spot frequented by hardworking dads. I told the waitress my omelette was “egg-sellent.” No smiles. Even a local cop at the counter, who always enjoyed a good pun, looked away. I said “easy with the coffee, that’s police BREW-tality.” To my dismay, I chuckled silently to myself in complete silence.
Wake up America, they are coming for your puns.
big bear, circa 2020
As a proud father and American it only increased my desire to make light of the situation with my God given right to puns. “Why do you stink so bad officer, are you ON DUTY?” The next thing I knew I was on the ground being kicked and spit on by two women and a homeless man as they said, “You’re gonna get us all in trouble! Times have changed. Give up your puns.”
Driving home with what felt like a broken rib I had to stop at a road closure. Desperate for connection, I rolled down the window and asked the construction worker how long the delay was. Before he could answer I said, “road work… I sure hope it works.” I saw a slight smile on his face before he went back to pretending he didn’t hear me. Jobs are tough to get these days, can’t say I blame him.
As I drove up to my door I saw my cow ‘Moo moo’ in the field, and whispered, “isn’t it pasture bed time” and imagined a world which still accepted a dad’s need to own his own puns.
When the SWAT team showed up at my house after members of the coffee shop made allegations that I was a write wing satirist, I yelled out the window, “Swat? No flies here sorry!” I heard a knock at the door and I yelled “who’s there?” They said, “police open up.” So, of course, I gritted my fists tightly and responded, “police open up, who?”
“Fight, fight against the dying of the light,” I thought to myself as the door broke open.
big bear, circa 2020
Before I knew it they had a knee on my back. I yelled “you’re like the energizer bunny, you’ll be charged with battery!” As they attempted to gag my mouth I got out: “I bet you guys show up to protests three hours early to BEAT THE CROWDS!”
What people rarely understand is you can’t negotiate with the alligator–you just get eaten last. Those same police desperate to confiscate my puns now face a “DEPUN the Police” movement.
I’ve been through hell and back but I’ll never give up my puns. They’re uplifting, especially on a hot air balloon. We are all in this together. No one wants to live in a world without dad jokes. They give men of all walks of life a little extra spark to keep going. That very cop who turned away from me in that coffee shop was accused by the media of shooting an unarmed man. I told him I’d chip in for some prosthetics for the unarmed bastard. I could see a smile spread across his face. He had a mustache, and it seemed to be growing on him.
