One for the Pundits

[Wombat]

Why do we cringe when someone produces a string of puns?

It doesn't seem to matter whether the puns are individually good, bad or indifferent. Or does it?

[Innocent Bystander]

Because we speak English.

The whole evolution of English from its original creole has demanded that its speakers be more accepting of strange and distorted words. More precise languages, like German, do not accept puns. They are simply incorrect. Since a major part of English-speaking humour hinges on puns, English tend to have the impression that German-speakers are humourless. German-speakers, for their part, have the impression that English-speakers are frivolous, innaccurate people with grasshopper minds.

For a pun to be accepted as humour, in English, it needs to be in context. Generally this means in the context of some shaggy-dog story where the pun is the punch-line.

A pun on its own is not clearly identifiable as humour, - it may simply be a mistake -therefore we do not laugh, but groan.

[fearfaoin]

Depends of which "we" you speak.
Among certain nerdly communities
punnery is practically high art.

[Nanohedron]

Why do we cringe when someone produces a string of puns?

It doesn't seem to matter whether the puns are individually good, bad or indifferent. Or does it?

Let's try a case in point, and see:

Recently during a session's group smoke break a fellow mentioned that he'd always wanted to try a stint on a fishing trawler just to see what it was like. "So, just for the halibut, then," I snappily rejoindered.

Of course a direct hit without collateral damage is not as sweet, so the pitiful cries of all the maimed were too gratifying to measure and I wore a feather in my cap for the day. But the pun was too easy. It was a "gimme" that anyone should have come up with; other than the sheer happenstance that permitted a slick delivery the only thing that earned me my assassin's stripes was the accident of timing, which may only mean everyone else had taken their fingers off of the trigger.

The slick part of the delivery included saying it as if I were unimpressed by such a confession of a dilettante's mettle, and that was an important part of the package I couldn't pass up. The opportunity was nothing less than a gift from on high. For my tastes, to have said it brightly as if congratulating myself for being such a "wit" would have been uncouth and ruined it for the best of its possibilities, which would have been an ingratitude to the fellow who had handed me the context on such a big freakin' silver platter. BUT: that's just me. Another situation might have been different, and while for me there's always a time and place for innocent, unadorned silliness, from anyone else I would never begrudge it; whatever the subtlety of its flavor, a pun's a pun for a' that, and my groans would be just as honest. Sometimes a raised eyebrow is enough.

We know that the purpose of puns varies with culture and setting. In certain poetic traditions for example, well-crafted puns are serious business; they are admired and supposed to graces, deepening the scope of interpretation and reference. But the workaday thing seems to be all about the cheap thrills whether you're in the Amazon, Ōsaka or the Bronx. I think the question of why we cringe at "street" puns is easily answered by their intent: if groans are the measure - and it never seems to be otherwise - the best puns are by definition appallingly bad ones, and good puns hurt (hence I call it punishment), and when we are in pain, we cringe. What I think is more interesting, and we can refer to my tale and observations above, is WHY we pun. Personally, I think it's sadism. I know it is for me.

But what makes a pun so bad that it's good? These are deep waters.

[The Weekenders]

Not too many bites so here we go:

People groan at punsters because it's just a few that utter so many. It causes a kind of "resentment annoyance" because not everyone has that talent, i think. If most people uttered them it would be so ubiquitous.

[mutepointe]

That was too much to read Nano, so I didn't. I groan at the worn out puns. I laugh my butt off at the clever newer puns.

[Nanohedron]

Not too many bites so here we go:

Yeah, well, I probably threw a wet blanket on it what with my overburdening the topic.

People groan at punsters because it's just a few that utter so many.

A good theory too, and those that fit it don't seem to have, shall we say, impulse control. I prefer to think that I offer gems over devalued currency, but of course that's as good as just an excuse for being underproductive.

It causes a kind of "resentment annoyance" because not everyone has that talent, i think.

Okay, NOW I'm calling "sour grapes".

If most people uttered them it would be so ubiquitous.

And either the gods would have struck us flat for being a race so inane, or else we would have all killed each other off out of unrelieved outrage.

[Nanohedron]

That was too much to read Nano, so I didn't.

Yeah, I know.

I suppose I should say I'm sorry, but on the other hand think about the opportunity you've missed. I rather admire it; you could, too.

And at the very least it's a target as broad as a barn in case you're not sure where to aim.

I laugh my butt off at the clever newer puns.

You might like this one, then:

I walked up to [name-dropping edited out because Nano has at least some self-respect] who is notorious for being a career punner without any proper shame or repentance, and I asked him: "So, if you're sexting, is that phone-ication?" He didn't even blink, and said, "That gets you four stars out of five." Coming as it did from the very Guru of Groaners himself, I was like, Yessss.

Of course five stars would have been if he'd said it. I think this needn't even be pointed out, but someone's bound to ask.

[mutepointe]

I laughed. See. It was new. New to me anyway.

Sorry I didn't read your essay, my eyes are hurting, I've looked at computer screens all day.

[Nanohedron]

Sorry I didn't read your essay, my eyes are hurting, I've looked at computer screens all day.

That's quite all right. It would have only made for a fool's thesis at a drunk's university, anyway, and I'm over it myself.

EDIT: I just looked at it again and all I can say is, Gawd, Nano. Caffeinate much? But I'm gonna leave it as an object lesson on how not to post. So, at least it's good for something, anyway. Yeesh.

[fearfaoin]

EDIT: I just looked at it again and all I can say is, Gawd, Nano. Caffeinate much? But I'm gonna leave it as an object lesson on how not to post. So, at least it's good for something, anyway. Yeesh.

I read it all and enjoyed every second. It was
better than Cats.

I think the best punsters do not call attention
to their puns. They add no extra emphasis; they
do not pause for laughs/groans. They never
say "no pun intended". They drop the pun mid-
stream in a conversation and move on as if
nothing untoward has occurred. If people catch
it, all the better, but they're too cool to care.

[Nanohedron]

It was
better than Cats.

That's not all that ringing of an endorsement. But, I'll take it.

I think the best punsters do not call attention
to their puns. They add no extra emphasis; they
do not pause for laughs/groans. They never
say "no pun intended". They drop the pun mid-
stream in a conversation and move on as if
nothing untoward has occurred. If people catch
it, all the better, but they're too cool to care.

Excuse my bluntness, but please hear my caution that I think that that aesthetic flirts too chummily with courtly decadence. A miss being as good as a mile, theoretical exercises do not bring home the heads. I think (and I wager that if Sun Tzu had written The Art of Puns he would agree) that the lay of the land must be taken into account in considering one's victi....I mean, audience. After all, if I'm slick but my volley whizzes harmlessly over their lance-tips, then don't I fail in my purpose? But again, MY purpose is without exception outwardly-directed, for the blow to unerringly hit its mark, and to count my harvest by a wailing and gnashing of teeth.

As Confucius said, when the Superior Man (sorry, ladies; let's just work with the anachronism) is at archery and misses his mark, he pauses to look within himself. Of course elegance is a plus and to be striven for, no question; I do that myself. But if the times require that for a strike to count it has to be on the butt-ugly side, the simple truth remains that it's results that enter into the record.

The main thing is, no pain, no gain. Their pain being my gain, of course. But I do allow that one's technique shouldn't be any more crude than needs must; unless the field of honor is under the Big Top, there's no worth in delivering your champion by trebuchet and fanfare when simply pointing him in the right direction will do the job.

[fearfaoin]

A miss being as good as a mile, theoretical exercises do not bring home the heads.

Perhaps, but the comparative return when
a hit is realized (sometimes several sentences
on) will often make up for the trail of misses,
in my experience. Audiences are more appreci-
ative, for some reason, when they feel they've
caught you trying to sneak one by them. I call
it "Iseewhatyoudidthereification".

(and I wager that if Sun Tzu had written The Art of Puns he would agree)

Really now?

"Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness.
Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness.
Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fête."

After all, if I'm slick but my volley whizzes harmlessly over their lance-tips, then don't I fail in my purpose? But again, MY purpose is without exception outwardly-directed, for the blow to unerringly hit its mark, and to count my harvest by a wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Were you a hipster, you could feel superior
to your audience for being less in tune with
your grasp of irony. It's all in how you set
the bar, I guess.

[Nanohedron]

A miss being as good as a mile, theoretical exercises do not bring home the heads.

Perhaps, but the comparative return when
a hit is realized (sometimes several sentences
on) will often make up for the trail of misses,
in my experience. Audiences are more appreci-
ative, for some reason, when they feel they've
caught you trying to sneak one by them. I call
it "Iseewhatyoudidthereification".

Looking this over, it occurs to me that we may simply come from different schools of thought on this one, and that's all there is to that. But it's interesting and illustrative to discuss these things all the same. I DO have one quibble with the above that I won't let go of, though: perhaps me no perhapses. It doesn't matter who says, "Theoretical exercises do not bring home the heads": there is no "perhaps" about it; it's a bone-marrow truth. Better to just ignore it if giving it its due is out of the question. Discourse looks more credible that way.

(and I wager that if Sun Tzu had written The Art of Puns he would agree)

Really now?

Really.

"Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness.
Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness.
Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fête."

It's all in what you bring home from it. Sun Tzu was at the end of the day all about results with the least expenditure; but one can over-spend one's energies on formlessness for its own sake, and that could be a vanity. Also consider that formlessness makes supreme good sense only in that it is preparatory to the decisive stroke. Thus the stroke appears to come from nowhere and is all the more demoralising for the surprise (and there's a flipside scenario where by your intent they see it coming but, due to being craftily set up, they can do nothing but helplessly watch the unfolding of the inevitable, and how demoralising is that?), but if the target doesn't know it's been struck one way or the other, well...I prefer things not be so ambiguous for all concerned. Nevertheless I'll concede for the sake of argument that a strike (not the preparatory stuff, mind) acting like slow-acting poison can be useful - given my bent I don't see how - but if that's the result it should be due entirely to intent and good strategy. Not accidental happenstance. But that's just me.

After all, if I'm slick but my volley whizzes harmlessly over their lance-tips, then don't I fail in my purpose? But again, MY purpose is without exception outwardly-directed, for the blow to unerringly hit its mark, and to count my harvest by a wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Were you a hipster, you could feel superior
to your audience for being less in tune with
your grasp of irony. It's all in how you set
the bar, I guess.

Hipster, shmipster. At my years I'm beyond concern with feeling superior any more; you get over it. What I want is quantifiable results. I don't want to pull wings off of flies. I want HAMBURGER.

[Denny]

an' ya seem like such a vegetable tour de force....