...as we used to say at our Dominic Savio Club meetings back in '81/'82. Extracurricular (but during school hours) Catholic school stuff. Not quite in the hippie Antioch vein, but none too distant either. This has nothing to do with that. Or maybe it does... Maybe at the end of this essay (this is too fractured for an essay) it'll come back around and we'll all be like, "Deep, deep..."
The deep I'm talking about here is the constant reference to living in the basement (this is a blog about the basement). But it turns out (my lethargy aside) there's not all that much to write about living in a basement. I exhausted all the metaphors and puns many posts ago (that's what this is, a post, not an essay). Here, though, for you, is a punny gem from Erin.
We were driving through Beaverton last Friday (maybe it wasn't quite yet the Beav but still SW PDX) when we passed a coffee kiosk called "Coffee Cartel." I remarked that you don't often see the word "cartel" without another word, "drug", preceding it. I decided Colombia's most, let's say, popular exports are drugs and coffee (I'd look up other fine Colombian products but Wikipedia's blacked out today for the SOPA protest), so the name kind of works.
"They should have a place called 'Underground Coffee.'" As my mind took quantum strides searching for a follow-up joke, Erin returned with their tagline, "It's Chokey."
What have I done to her? On one hand, I may have ruined her with puns (once you start, it's hard to stop). On the other hand, as Team Punsters, the pressure's off me.
At this point, I would begin the journey back to the post's beginning, delving a bit into who Dominic Savio was and why we were in a club inspired by him. But, as I said, Wikipedia's down, so...
That's it, I guess. Puns are shallow humor, I suppose, a step above sarcasm. So obvious when uttered, but often deep, deep upon reflection. Is what I tell myself.