There once was a land called Punt. It was the birthplace of puns.
The most sophisticated, creative, nuanced and subtle form of humor is, of course, the pun.
A remaining few on the fringes of serious literature still try to deny this, but are not taken seriously. Articles in leading literary journals unequivocally insist that the pun is ubiquitously recognized and iconic in its status as the sine qua non of top-quality word usage.
It is felt that most modern literature has become tiring and morose, and the publishing industry is welcoming with relief the new wave of punology that is boosting sales.
The modern editor may be bald, but more importantly, he is ribald. Surgeons may be cut-ups, but even better, they are side-splitting. National parks are the scene of campy hilarity.
No longer are the nation’s best humorists too funny for words. They are producing words by the bushel and feeling not the least peckish.
This bicycle had to stop for a rest. She was tired.
T-shirts are reflecting the new trend. One seen on a bearded man with glasses walking along Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley said, “You left me an opening for a science pun and I just lepton it.”
Even dogs are getting into the fun. Up the street, a air of fun-loving hounds entertain each other with puns.
“I have a bone of contention with you,” one told another.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” his friend replied.