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#12138 12/07/00 02:55 PM
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>But isn't it gloria in the Latin?

If all else fails, read the rules! I will amend my submission as follows:

Gloria was the one who was traveling. Her cable home read, Sick Transit. Gloria, Monday.



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#12139 12/07/00 02:57 PM
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>CHILI KNIGHT AUGERS WELL FOR THE FUTURE.

(Did that sound too Jazzoctopesque?)

Nope, just too deep for me :)



TEd
#12140 12/07/00 03:14 PM
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Gloria was the one who was traveling. Her cable home read, Sick Transit. Gloria, Monday.

If you can tell me which part of England Gloria came from, the palm is yours! [sneaky emoticon]


#12141 12/07/00 03:41 PM
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sic transit gloria mundi

The way I first heard it it was Gloria Mundy and she got a special one word rate for using a foreign language phrase.

My contribution would be "Nun wrecks some," said Kaiser. The telegraphic syntax would require it to be a newspaper headline and I haven't built up any kind of back story for it. It strains the homophonic rule a little but I feel I should get some credit for a 5-in-pun.


#12142 12/07/00 03:54 PM
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In reply to:

Gloria in the Latin



I was told that Sic transit gloria mundi meant, "Gloria Munday threw up on the streetcar."


#12143 12/07/00 05:31 PM
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Faldage:

That's not good, that's great. I can see the musical now.

And I handed my pun ball crown to him.

While this doesn't fit the rules because it is not consecutive homophones, I suspect you will like it:

Poor Doctor Berade. Prior to his untimely death he had made history by breeding a strain of swine that averaged over a ton in weight. On top of being huge, they were extremely efficient, since all they did was lie around all day and turn otherwise useless food into high-quality protein. There were, though, two negaitves. First, the genetic dice had rolled amiss, and these animals had the absolutely worst breath in the world. So bad, in fact, that no one could approach them unless they were stuffed with breath mints. Further, they were so big that humans couldn't handle them, so Doctor Berade had cloned dozens of gorillas who were specially trained to clean and care for the porcine giants. One day Doctor Berade apparently became upset when one of the gorillas dropped a whole bowl of the breath mints; he made the fatal mistake of hitting the gorilla in the presence of more than 75 of the gorilla's compatriots. The police report concluded: Seventy six strong clones fed the pig Berade, with a hundred and ten clorets close at hand.



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#12144 12/07/00 05:49 PM
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off thread-- you punsters are wonderful, and these are beyond my skill--

but isn't {green]Sic transit gloria mundi
sick of commuting, happy till monday for those whom mind using TGIF?


#12145 12/07/00 05:56 PM
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In reply to:

Dr. Berade


WOW! That takes the palm, the cake, whatever.

While on this subject, while driving to lunch there popped into my mind, apropos of nothing, one of the great classic triple puns of Western civilization: Groucho Marx, as Capt. Spalding, in Animal Crackers remarked that the best place to hunt elephants is in Alabama, "because the Tuscaloosa." (For the benefit of uitländer, Tuscaloosa is a city in Alabama). Lovers of puns have a ball with the Marx brothers.


#12146 12/07/00 09:41 PM
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>>CHILI KNIGHT AUGERS WELL FOR THE FUTURE.
(Did that sound too Jazzoctopesque?).


>Nope, just too deep for me :)

Or too boring?


#12147 12/10/00 09:32 PM
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Having belatedly caught up with this thread, I offer the following (with suitable apologies to Terry Pratchett!)



It is a well-known fact on the Slipped Disc World that the Fifth Elephant was responsible for the world’s best deep fat mines. Without these valuable reserves the monastical deep-fat friars would have long ago had their chips. A lesser-known fact is that, as a close cousin of the Hairy Mammoth of A’tuin, the Fifth Elephant also bequeathed us our leading reserves of hair. Not just ordinary hair, of course: high quality carbon fibre. With the proliferation of the weird wild wubberyuh (more commonly referred to as the interknot revolution) the demand for endless threads seems… well, endless.

Faced with such demands, leading Swiss scientist Herr Werner Suigeneris mounted an exploratory expedition to scalp fresh supplies at source. Deep in the forests of Awadia he encountered a dwarf, who was distinguished by his extraordinary wig of long, flowing black hair. Werner’s smoky grey eyes lit up at this clue. “Can you show me more of this hair, my little fellow?” he asked.

The longitudinally-challenged one drew himself up to Werner’s knees, and spluttered his reply: “I am not your little fellow… I am the biggest in my family… How dare you offer me such a low insult…”

Werner was quick to apologise having intended no slight. “Sorry, please calm down…” “Down? Down!!” shouted the dwarf. Werner tried again: “I am so sorry, I meant no offence at all…” “TALL?” squealed the dwarf, “are you taking the piss?”

“No, no”, replied Werner hastily. “Ah, look, I have gold to pay for suitable long threads, if you are interested.” And the dwarf’s eyes widened at the glint of his favourite metal. “Why didn’t you say so?” he said, suddenly cheerful. “I’ve got loads of hair – my nearest mine is just over here.”

Werner followed the dwarf into a large cavern. Sure enough the back wall was a hairface – but when Werner sampled it, the filaments were very short fragments. “Yes, very nice”, he said, “but these are too – ah - do you have any, ah, longer hair?”, he asked carefully. “Certainly!” said the dwarf. “I’ll show you my number two mine, over here”.

Following into a deeper cavern, Werner again saw a hairline deposit. Again the threads were too short. “I am sorry,” he said to the dwarf, “I cannot buy this length either.” The dwarf replied: “No problem in the slightest. I have plenty more mines to show you.”

So Werner followed the dwarf into mineshaft after mineshaft until they got to the eighth working. “This is getting more like it!” exclaimed Werner, examining a very long thread. “Is this the best you have available?” The dwarf looked carefully through narrowed eyes, and said: “This is the best I have for sale.” Werner looked at him sharply, saying: “Do you mean you do have some better material?” “Well…” said the dwarf slowly, “I do have some of the best hair ever dug out. But I don’t really want to sell it…”

Werner, with the Swiss nose for a deal, could feel a tension in the air. “OK, OK…. But just show me, out of interest, will you? They say the French stuff is the best on the market”, he added slyly.

“French – pah!” snorted the dwarf derisively. “Come down here and tell me this isn’t the very best hair you’ve ever seen.” He stepped proudly aside at the bottom of the last mineshaft, to reveal to Werner’s incredulous gaze the most apparently endless deposit of hair ever discovered which ran in a lustrous seam about 8.3 metres deep.

He turned back to the dwarf, and said simply “Name your price. I want it ALL, the whole nine yards!”

“Hah!” laughed the dwarf. Then he added the words that passed into dwarf etymology as the first true use of the interrobang, being both a question and an answer:

“You want to buy all of it – Nine Mine hair?!”



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