This morning my eyes sprang open at 4:40 am. After a brief perambulation to the bathroom, I got back in bed with the Tony Orlando and Dawn song...Knock Three Times...firmly ensconced in my head. I can assure the reader that I haven’t listened to that insipid tune for at least 30 years now, but there it was playing over and over inside my head. Not only is this sort of thing annoying, it is also inexplicable. But, there are many such inexplicable things that happen in our brains. Take puns, for instance.
Ok, a friend of mine posted this awesome picture on Facebook yesterday, with the following problematic comment:
Those of you who get our Christmas card/letter know that I consistently brag about my wife’s tremendous legs. Well, here’s a photo from our wedding—now you understand why I’m so proud.
Immediately, his friends started making comments about how far into the doghouse he was going to be if his wife sees the picture, etc...all in good fun. But, the minute I saw this picture, I reminded myself that I had just returned from three weeks in Maine. I hadn’t done anything productive in almost a month. I had work to do. I could not let myself get distracted by this golden punning opportunity. But, there it was...staring me in the face. Damn Facebook!!
See, here’s the thing. Puns are like a bag of Doritos. You’re sitting there at the table with an open bag. You know that the only way you’re not going to slam the entire bag is to never reach for that first Dorito. Because, once you’ve had the first one, you’ve got no chance.
My first offer was weak, not fully formed. Basic. Entry level stuff:
Dont expect me to ...pony up...your bail money if she sees this.
I told myself that I was done, that I could walk away. And for a while I actually did. I made a few calls, set a couple of appointments, studied several account statements. An hour or so later I could feel one coming together somewhere in the primordial soup of the brain, gestating, coalescing in the strange way that all puns do. Suddenly, I was typing:
If you had asked my advice before posting this, I would have said, “Ney”
I quickly busied myself with some fund research, some due diligence work, trying to convince myself that I was done with this Facebook foolishness. But now I had the bright red Doritos bag firmly in both hands, and my hands looked like I had spent half a day finger painting traffic cones. Then, my friend made the terrible mistake of complimenting me...which, of course, had an effect similar to waving a bag of donuts at a fat kid...
Thanks! The last thing I want to do is...stirrup...trouble.
It was at this point where I knew I was too far gone to fight it. The bag of Doritos was lifted high above my head and I sat there with my mouth wide open, like a four day old robin, trying to catch that last corner of crumbs, not even caring that half of them were hitting me in the face...
As one husband to another, I can say that posting this picture is a classic symptom of hoof in mouth disease.
But, in your defense, at least you haven’t gone out and had an affair with your Secretariet.
Just trying to keep things light here. With the climate we are in today, posting this sort of picture might make people think you’re an insensitive husband...and nobody wants to be...saddled...with that.
It was a shameful performance. I had lost all control, done in by a nameless, mysterious and ultimately toxic force...the pun. So, in full repentance mode, I opened the Bible for comfort and it fell open to James 1:26...
If anyone thinks he is religious and does not...bridle...his tongue, this person’s religion is worthless.
Sigh....
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