A journal entry I wrote during journalism class after a day of subjecting my students to an endless stream of cheese puns.
In many ways, puns are the king of humor. They are the intellectual side of jokes, the calculus or Shakespeare of humor for the simple reason that they always require thought. A good pun tickles the brain as the listener runs it through her head one more time to get it (if it’s a really good pun), and even a weak pun gives the listener a little boost in the thought, “I get it.”
Puns also create pleasure in the mind of the punster. It creates that little moment of uncertainty as the joke lingers in the air and the joker is just a little unsure that everyone will get it. And because there are always those who don’t get the pun immediately, there’s a little pregnant pause as understanding spreads: the little giggles (or better yet, the low groans) tell everyone else, “I get it, and it’s either good (the giggles) or great (the groans).”
This pause between the telling and the comprehension and laughter creates a space where the teller and the listener are in together on a little private joke. Puns, then, are sometimes the most intimate of jokes because they create a little humorous bond between the teller and whoever might get it immediately while excluding those who look around bewildered, often saying aloud, “I don’t get it.”