We’re back in Vermont after a fantastic weekend in Maine. I anticipated incredible scenery and excessive puns playing off the main and “Maine” thing. I was not disappointed on either account.
I’ve already posted on the flood of cliches that swamped my mind during the drive out and also during my first day in Bethel, ME. The puns were right out there for all to see, the clear winner being: “Maine” Street Realty. I’m practically green with envy at such a pun.
Vermont is not punable. I drop part of the blame on the French. First of all, it’s just fun to blame the French. They’ve had it coming ever since Napoleon. But coming more to the point, Vermont is based on the French words for “Green Mountains.”
While I’m sure the French themselves are very able to make puns–heck, I’ve heard that even Jacques Derrida, in all his thick semiotics, litters his works with puns–Americans are unable to manufacture puns out of the raw materials of French words.
French is the elegant, sophisticated language of the aristocracy and kings. Americans still cower at the savoir faire of French, unable to twist fancy French words into a suitable pun.
And if you think I’m out to lunch . . . you’re right. It tasted delicious.