Wipe the smirk from your face, dear reader, stifle the groan in your
throat … yes, we are punning today and the punnee is a legal suit and
the punnor is a gentleman’s suit, size 42.
Of course, you already
know that puns are the bittersweet linguistic memory of that long-ago
time when any word meant anything, and some of ‘em meant as much as six
different things before breakfast. In those prelapsarian times when
language was first evolving from the sonic ooze of grunts and snorts
into more upright, ambulatory fricatives and uvular trills, the
assignment of one particular sound to one particular object was a
slapdash, fritter-my-wig sort of business. In truth, we might say that
once upon a time all words were puns and Nonsense reigned upon the land.
All
of this came to a sticky end with the invention of reeling and
writhing, as I’m sure you’ve heard before. Equipped with such skills,
even circus and theater folk could interpret the written marx of
contract law and stymie the Pig and his legal Snark, all by invoking the Sanity Clause.
What’s
this, the Judge sputters! Sanity Clause? You can’t fool me, there ain’t
no Sanity Clause! Exactly, milord, 'tis the perfect Christmas Alibi,
the Snark replies!
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