Pun in the sun!

I'm sitting in a bar with some friends one Friday night. We're drinking beer and listening to our friend's latest travel tales. The Reveler interrupts. He scratches his bottom and asks in a tone that signals of a silly joke, "What do you call the first Japanese who did what I'm doing?" We hazard some guesses, but no success. He puts us out of our misery, "Itchy bun."

At work one time, The Reveler pauses to ask, "Did you know that The Police made a song about a local family?" I give him the what-are-ef-are you-talking-about look. He responds, "Well, didn't they sing A-yu-yu-yu, A-ya-ya-ya...?"

One Sunday afternoon, we're enumerating the types of phobias we know. The Reveler says, "What about the fear of soap?" We're sure there's a term for it, but we don't know what exactly. So he tells us, "Heno de phobia."

Over wine and nuts another Sunday afternoon, the discussion is about local politics and immigration. The Reveler decides it's time for what is now known among us friends as an itchy bun joke. He asks, "What would you call it if wild animals took control over the CNMI?" Everyone is clueless. He gives it up, "Feralization."

The Reveler is the punniest person I know. Not a day goes by that he doesn't come up with a pun out of whatever topic that springs up in the conversation. That's why I was amazed when I found out recently, from the book Cork Boat, that there's actually a contest for puns. Author John Pollack, a former speechwriter for President Clinton and builder of the world's first cork boat, is the 1995 champion of the O'Henry Pun-off World Championships. The competition is held every May in Austin, Texas.

Here are some puns from the contest website:

Ascent...An aroma.
Brisket...To speed something up.
Castrate...To evaluate all the actors in a movie or play.
Dollop...To dress up attractively.
Exposed...A retired model.
Forthcoming...Three visits weren't enough.
Germination...The birthplace of Beethoven.
Hi-fidelity...A devoted couple.
Hotel...A place where you trade dollars for quarters.
Institute...A spontaneous session of wind and brass instruments.
Logarithm...Tapping out the beat of a tune on a tree trunk.

HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN:
The Yoko club? Oh no.
The Peter Pan club? Never. Never.
The quarterback club? I'll pass.
The compulsive rhymers club? Okey-dokey.
The Spanish optometrists club? Si.
The pregnancy club? That's conceivable.
The self-esteem builders club? They probably won't accept me.
The agoraphobics society? Only if they meet at my house.