The Road Not Taken

I own a collection of puns that I picked up one day and, after opening it randomly to a couple of different entries, I was hooked.  I went to customer service to see if they had anything with which to remove the hook and they handed me a deck of cards and said "Here, go fish." and this was a branch of a large bookstore operation.   Just can't understand how these bookstores keep afloat. canoe?  Want to try punning?  Don't go there.  That road is not one for the taking.  Soon enough you will find yourself stuck, and it's a sticky business--branches or not.  

Not long ago, I was reading an article written by a local writer that I read on a semi-regular basis.   Her subject was couponing, and at first glance, when she described her mother's attachment to green stamps, and I reflected on my own mother's experiences with green stamps, I sized it up as at once a genuinely informative article on the present-day art of couponing and a wry reflection on how, despite ourselves, we are "becoming our parents" as we age.  I set the article aside for a more careful read when I would have some time and went on to other things.

When I picked it up again, I realized the direction the author had taken did not include the reflection on how we are taking on some of the characteristics, habits, idiosyncrasies of our parents.  I had read that into the reference to her own mother.   As has often happened, I misread the direction she was taking.  I wondered if this was simply because she had long ago accepted the notion that she was becoming like her mother?  Or did she not notice that her interest and apparent commitment to using the new variety of coupons that are sprouting everywhere around us was similar to her mother's green stamps habit?  Or, was her mother not really a coupon person and her interest in saving did not extend to coupons in general?  We'll never know.  Perhaps her article had included that discussion about following in her mother's footsteps and it wound up on the cutting room floor, so to speak, in the interest of brevity.  Or, like usual, I had no idea where she was going with the story.

But it gave me pause, and now I can hardly type--paws are just not made for keyboard work.  One of the similarities between I have observed in my own behavior and what I recall of my father's is a love of puns and associated malapropisms.  Often, I get distracted from what a speaker or writer has said or written, because I'm chasing a self-made pun.  The article described above started with a pun of sorts.  "Here's the deal (no pun intended)."  Which made me ask, what's wrong with intentional punning?    Why are puns like the Rodney Dangerfield of humor, they "get no respect."  But what is due the author of the following--"The Zen enthusiast said to the hot dog vendor, 'make me one with everything.'"  This one is just so right.  Who could put down such a clever expression?

I spend way too much time examining puns from all sorts of places.  They seem to fall on me and I collect them.  Most are not gems, but a few require a bit of thought.  Others are easily spotted as in the question, do animal rights activists prefer PETA bread?  Speaking of Spot, I really miss him--I spilled some spot remover on my dog and now he's gone.  Now I am worried about my pony.  He's got a cold and he's a little hoarse.  Make me stop....