Norman Gilbert 2004
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Norman Gilbert, POTY 2004
Gary Hallock ROASTING GORMAN GILBERT
I am a firm believer that when you set out to do a roast, it should never be half-baked. When I heard that we were going to roast the P.O.T.Y., I thought..."MMM pot roast?" There's a lot at steak here, unless we were to burn him at the stake, then there'd be lots of spittin' images... Hey, how else can I expectorate with you guys?
I was asked if I wanted to participate in a roast of Norman Gilbert? Well, just like a native American rain dancer, you know I'll jump at the chants, without any reservation. Or perhaps I should have said I felt like a suicidal cockroach, eager to get ground in on the floor. Norm is one of my idols, and you know what they say about idol minds. So here I am to offer the opening volley, sort of a volley of the idols.
Any candidate who hopes to receive an honor such as Punster Of The Year, must lay open his own life like a book. Sometimes this book is a fine couth tome, and sometimes it reads like a sleazy novel. Now I consider myself a novel lover, but that's another story. If O.Henry had written it, it would be a short story, no such luck tonight. I'm sure we'll have some twisted ends, but by no means will the stories be short.
I'm here tonight to blow the lid off the private live and history of our bored chairman, Mr. Gilbert. Not really knowing all that much about his personal history or his private life, I was forced to do some quick research in order to prepare. Okay, I Googled him. Wouldn't you? It's amazing the type of erroneous information you can dig up on someone if you don't look too closely.
My usually unreliable sources tell me that Norm tried to join the naval air force, but when he attempted to force air out his navel, it sort of backfired on him. I believe he actually spent his early years in the merchant marines and...uh... Let me amend that. It says he was an overseer, - uh, does that mean submariners are under-seers?
Anyhow, he must have loved to sail, because the actual quote I read was that Norm once said to his mom, "I have half a notion to sail around the world." Well, as we all know it takes more than half an ocean to do that. Somehow though, he just never could seem to get his ships together and everything he tried seemed a little dinghy after that. What a lifebuoy!
I am a firm believer that when you set out to do a roast, it should never be half-baked. When I heard that we were going to roast the P.O.T.Y., I thought..."MMM pot roast?" There's a lot at steak here, unless we were to burn him at the stake, then there'd be lots of spittin' images... Hey, how else can I expectorate with you guys?
I was asked if I wanted to participate in a roast of Norman Gilbert? Well, just like a native American rain dancer, you know I'll jump at the chants, without any reservation. Or perhaps I should have said I felt like a suicidal cockroach, eager to get ground in on the floor. Norm is one of my idols, and you know what they say about idol minds. So here I am to offer the opening volley, sort of a volley of the idols.
Any candidate who hopes to receive an honor such as Punster Of The Year, must lay open his own life like a book. Sometimes this book is a fine couth tome, and sometimes it reads like a sleazy novel. Now I consider myself a novel lover, but that's another story. If O.Henry had written it, it would be a short story, no such luck tonight. I'm sure we'll have some twisted ends, but by no means will the stories be short.
I'm here tonight to blow the lid off the private live and history of our bored chairman, Mr. Gilbert. Not really knowing all that much about his personal history or his private life, I was forced to do some quick research in order to prepare. Okay, I Googled him. Wouldn't you? It's amazing the type of erroneous information you can dig up on someone if you don't look too closely.
My usually unreliable sources tell me that Norm tried to join the naval air force, but when he attempted to force air out his navel, it sort of backfired on him. I believe he actually spent his early years in the merchant marines and...uh... Let me amend that. It says he was an overseer, - uh, does that mean submariners are under-seers?
Anyhow, he must have loved to sail, because the actual quote I read was that Norm once said to his mom, "I have half a notion to sail around the world." Well, as we all know it takes more than half an ocean to do that. Somehow though, he just never could seem to get his ships together and everything he tried seemed a little dinghy after that. What a lifebuoy!
Norm was determined to explore the world though, so he signed on as a crew member on a merchant ship hauling fine French wine and snails. A big storm came along most escargot washed over Bordeau. Fortunately when the boat arrived in France he still had the port left and they only docked his pay. The captain told him to dis-a-pier. So he insulted a guy named Pierre and told the frog he looked a tadpole. Well of course he got the crap beaten out of him. "Imagine DeGaulle of this guy," Norm thought. "With French like that, who need enemas?"
Norm traveled into Paris because he was really itching to take in some Paris sights. By the time he arrived, he was literally "all lice!" Well, he must have gotten an Eiffel quickly, because the taxi driver just about drove him in Seine. He quickly realized that many of the resident of this city were suffering from vision problems. He decided to open a chain of one-hour optometry shops. He thought he might eventually be able to get a French eyes but it didn't work out.
Later Norm studied medicine and became a veterinarian at a mink farm. That seemed promising until he discovered the owner was a real weasel and the customers began to wear his patients. Determined to continue his work with exotic animals, he took a job at Disneyland as a staff doctor. (Treating staff infections, I guess) True, it was a Mickey Mouse operation and some of his friends teased him about being a quack doctor, but it paid the bills. He knew this job would eventually Peter out or Pan out. Unfortunately he had to quit because he didn't like feeling Goofy.
Norm traveled into Paris because he was really itching to take in some Paris sights. By the time he arrived, he was literally "all lice!" Well, he must have gotten an Eiffel quickly, because the taxi driver just about drove him in Seine. He quickly realized that many of the resident of this city were suffering from vision problems. He decided to open a chain of one-hour optometry shops. He thought he might eventually be able to get a French eyes but it didn't work out.
Later Norm studied medicine and became a veterinarian at a mink farm. That seemed promising until he discovered the owner was a real weasel and the customers began to wear his patients. Determined to continue his work with exotic animals, he took a job at Disneyland as a staff doctor. (Treating staff infections, I guess) True, it was a Mickey Mouse operation and some of his friends teased him about being a quack doctor, but it paid the bills. He knew this job would eventually Peter out or Pan out. Unfortunately he had to quit because he didn't like feeling Goofy.
Well, Norm went through several quick career changes after that. He invested in pet store that hosted poetry slams in the evenings. It was called "Pair-o-Keats." they soon shut down because of a budgie deficit.
He worked for a while in a combination liquor store/fish market called "Proof of Perches."
He speculated in goose futures but lost a fortune in a down market.
He invested in the perfume business because he thought it made scents. Which it did, until the odors fell off. It wasn't his fault, lord nose. Olfactory orders were down that year.
He thought for a while that he was going to make a big splash in the toilet paper business but he really wasn't willing two-ply himself. As a result his fine asses were de-pleated and he was nearly wiped out.
Like many men his age, he decided he'd like to get into ladies underwear. (No, not that way.) He approached the Playtex foundation with some specialty designs for certain niche markets. He designed an undergarment for mathematical mermaids called the "Algae-bra." he made one for witches called the "Abra-ca-da-bra," and he also designed some holy pantyhose for catholic sisters called "No-nun-sense."
After failing in so many pursuits, Norm finally decided to turn to God. Despite the scandalous reputations of many in the ministry, Norm knew that clergymen really do more than lay people, so at an age when many of us are pastor prime, he studied religion. I guess you might say he followed his altar ego. He thought perhaps he could earn more money as a psychic televangelist but he wasn't able to find anyone willing to fund a mentalist preacher. Norm has always been handy with his organ, so he thought he might become a choir director for the catholic sisters, but they wanted nun of hymn. Finally he settled for a missionary position and went to work proselytizing proselytutes somewhere below the bible belt.
As you might have guessed, Norm does have a way with women, but he weighs considerably less when he steps on the scale alone. He once fell in love with a farmer's daughter. All the cow manure but he still couldn't seem to a tractor, let alone fertilizer. Still he liked to work with herbicide him so he was pretty broken up when she sent him that John Deere letter.
After that he fell for a beautiful seismologist. He thought she was going to be the lava his life, but she was proved faults to him. Her sister, however, was an archeologist. They carbon dated for a while.
Probably Norm's saddest affair was with the daughter of a mortician. He really dug her, so he proposed. He figured, "the morgue the marrier." their wedding date was just around the coroner but of corpse her father had grave objections. Eventually their plans went autopsy turvy and their plot was soiled. It was then that Norm knew he never cadaver!
Well, there's the sordid, whimsical and almost totally apocryphal story of Norm Gilbert, your 2004 punster of the year. I've known this fellow for nearly 15 years and I'm still baffled about so many aspects of his personality. Such as does he really have one? Is it contagious? And most of all, why the Hell does he live in Canada?
Perhaps the next chef on our roasting menu can offer a little enlightenment. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the most recently outgoing Punster Of The Year, a man of great mirth, girth and readily estimable talent, Alan Combs...
Alan Combs on Norm Gilbert
Last night at the Pre-Pun-Off party, I had the honor of presenting
Norm Gilbert with The International Save the Pun Foundation award as
the 2004 "Punster of the Year" (POTY). Before the presentation, Gary
Hallock, Alan B. Combs, and Cynthia MacGregor spoke about Norm.
Heere is what Alan had to say:
Thoughts about Norman Gilbert
I am really glad to be here and take a break from my other life.
Especially, I am glad to be here with punsters who socialize and
really enjoy each other, in this, our mutual abberation society.
I am honored to meet Norm Gilbert. Other than interactions
related to punpunpun.com, I really have not met him before. I thank
him for his work on the Pundit, and I do especially like the on-line
version.
Norm is a financial advisor in Toronto, but like so many of us,
his real life is found in perpetrating word massacres. For example:
Once upun a time on a fork in the river Rhine there was a love
triangle involving a handsome young shepherd, a beautiful princess
and a sheep.
Our hero was herd to say to his loved one, "I love you." When
she asked, "How much?" he replied, "All of you."
This was over-herd by the sheep (the obtuse side of the
triangle) who became so sick with jealousy that her wool turned green
and the boy cried, "Olive ewe!"
So, there are three hearts in this fable: The one that Cupid
shot his arrow through, the one on the sleeve of the sheep, and . . .
one's up on a tine on the Rhine.
And Norm told us, "Dancing cheek to cheek is a type of floor play."
And the professor's discouraging remark to his student, "Thesis
awful".
And Norm told us about the transvestite letter carrier who was
arrested for male fraud.
It could have been Norman Gilbert who told us the story of the
wooden boy, Pinocchio. Instead of being on the Rhine in Germany,
this boy grew up in a little town in Virginia where the main crop was
tobacco.
As a pharmacist, I would predict this lad would not need any
Viagra -- he already had a woody.
Now, this was a lad destined for trouble, having the curse that
his nose grew longer when he lied.
He tried to join the mafia, but they wouldn't let him. Because
of his enlarged nose, this group was afraid they might become known
as the cosa nostril.
There are two other unfortunate characteristics you should know
about this young man.
1. Pinocchio was a snoopy, nosy character who was
constitutionally unable to mind his own business.
2. Next, he hated tobacco. In this Virginia town whose
total existence depended on tobacco, tobacco abolitionists were
greatly despised.
So, Pinocchio was an overly snoopy character who shunned
tobacco. It is no wonder he got into trouble with his "nose-poking
behavior".
Now, I should tell you some of Norm's imaginary history:
While he was in college, Norman tried to put himself through
school working at a strip club for English majors. The trouble was,
he didn't look any good in a dipthong.
While he was at school, he met Sherlock Holmes and asked him,
"What is the favorite flower of inorganic chemists?"
The answer was, "Elementary, Dear Norman, germaniums."
These particular flowers were especially the favorites of his
sex-changed sibling, his trans-sister.
He met a young lady that wanted to get married and have lots of
children, but he declined for reasons that are not readily apparent.
He considered becoming a gynecologist for Anna Nicole Smith, but
he found he didn't like obestity.
One of the folk arts in Norman's town of Toronto is the
construction of hand-sewn bed covers. This activity is so wide-
spread and so encouraged, that those who are non-participants suffer
from a quilty conscience.
I thank the International Save the Pun Foundation for my year as
Punster of The Year. If you haven't looked at it, Google "Tarzan's
Tripes Forever". It's a labor of love, or a love of labor, one or
the other.
I think the Foundation has made an excellent choice in Norman
Gilbert, and I thank him for coming down to be with us this year.
Cynthia Mac Gregor on Norm Gilbert
His name is Norm, but there's nothing normal about Norm Gilbert,
punster extraordinaire. Extra ordin aire? Does that mean when you
order extra puns from him, you can get extra air? Surely Norm's not
putting on airsÂ…he's just normalÂ…which I believe is 98.6. Or ninety-
eight point sex. If he wants to point to sex, that's his hang-up, not
mine. Though a mine is a terrible thing to waste. But we're not
talking about Norm's waist. That would be a waist of time. And thyme,
as we all know, is a very pungent herb. Well, Norm is a punny gent,
though his name definitely is not Herb.
His last name is Gibert. Gill – butt. Or, in other words,
there's something fishy here - you don't know your breathing
apparatus from your ass. But Norm's contributions to the world of
punditry are ass-tronomical. Now, we all know what astronomical
means. It derives from the term "astronomy," which is a meat similar
to corned beef. But nobody can beef about Norm's contributions to our
world of pun-ishment. He has a Website that's outasight. It's called
punpunpun. That's just in case you didn't get the message the first
time. He hits you over the head with it. PUN. PUN. PUN. He's really
angry that you didn't get the message. Hot cross puns. The site—and
it's quite a site to behold--is pun-laden, folks. And pun-laden is
just as dangerous as Osama bin Laden. Osama, can you see, by the
donzerly light?
But Norm isn't travelling light—donzerly or otherwise. He's
packed a heavy load—the mother lode—of puns into his Website, and his
Website is outtasight. Outtasight is something like outer space, and
Norm is definitely a spacey dude. He dude a lot of punning in the
course of his lifetime, much of it on his Website, in the
International Save the Pun Foundation, and in the publication The
Pundit. And Pundit is an appropriate title—whatever word Norman has
met in his lifetime, he has punned it.
Norman's friends have to put up with his relentless punning,
and the fact that he has any friends left is either a tribute to what
a great guy he is or the fact that his friends are desperate for
people to socialize with. Norm's puns come out in torrents, which is
a town in California. California got its name from the fact that so
many fornia people—you knowÂ…people from other countries—live there.
But I digress. Although I don't know why anyone would want to dye
gress. Its natural shade of green looks perfectly lovely.
But we were talking about Norm, who really isn't normal. Is any
punster? His puns are a barrage, and he parks his car in the barrage
whenever it's not in the driveway. (How much does a drive weigh,
anyhow?) Actually, driveway is what Norm doesÂ…he tells so many puns
he drives folks away.
But we're a band of inveterate punsters. Inveterate, of
course, refers to animals without spines. History has many famous
cases of spineÂ…Mata Hari was very well known for spyin'. Mata Hari
was a cousin of Mata DorÂ…but that's a lot of bull!
Bulls love to lie down in freshly made beds. That's the origin
of the phrase "bull sheet." But you'd better sheet any preconceived
notions you have about who's the punniest of all. Tonight we salute
Norm Gilbert as the king of puns. Hail, Norm. Which is not the same
thing as "Go to hell, Norm." But we wish you not hell but health. And
happiness and well being. Which is not the same as lima bean. But I'm
not lima. I'm telling the truth. Tonight we salute Norm GilbertÂ…or
Gill butt. And there's no buts about it. But I'm about to bid you
adieuÂ…or as Willy Shakespeare said, "Much ado about mutton." That
motto about mutton ought to be lamb-inated. And I feel pretty
sheepish offering such puns. But our honoree is no sheep date. In
fact, he rammed his way into our punsters' group with puns that are
really baaaaaaad.
As I said a minute ago, Hail, Norm Gilbert. We salute you.
Last night at the Pre-Pun-Off party, I had the honor of presenting
Norm Gilbert with The International Save the Pun Foundation award as
the 2004 "Punster of the Year" (POTY). Before the presentation, Gary
Hallock, Alan B. Combs, and Cynthia MacGregor spoke about Norm.
Heere is what Alan had to say:
Thoughts about Norman Gilbert
I am really glad to be here and take a break from my other life.
Especially, I am glad to be here with punsters who socialize and
really enjoy each other, in this, our mutual abberation society.
I am honored to meet Norm Gilbert. Other than interactions
related to punpunpun.com, I really have not met him before. I thank
him for his work on the Pundit, and I do especially like the on-line
version.
Norm is a financial advisor in Toronto, but like so many of us,
his real life is found in perpetrating word massacres. For example:
Once upun a time on a fork in the river Rhine there was a love
triangle involving a handsome young shepherd, a beautiful princess
and a sheep.
Our hero was herd to say to his loved one, "I love you." When
she asked, "How much?" he replied, "All of you."
This was over-herd by the sheep (the obtuse side of the
triangle) who became so sick with jealousy that her wool turned green
and the boy cried, "Olive ewe!"
So, there are three hearts in this fable: The one that Cupid
shot his arrow through, the one on the sleeve of the sheep, and . . .
one's up on a tine on the Rhine.
And Norm told us, "Dancing cheek to cheek is a type of floor play."
And the professor's discouraging remark to his student, "Thesis
awful".
And Norm told us about the transvestite letter carrier who was
arrested for male fraud.
It could have been Norman Gilbert who told us the story of the
wooden boy, Pinocchio. Instead of being on the Rhine in Germany,
this boy grew up in a little town in Virginia where the main crop was
tobacco.
As a pharmacist, I would predict this lad would not need any
Viagra -- he already had a woody.
Now, this was a lad destined for trouble, having the curse that
his nose grew longer when he lied.
He tried to join the mafia, but they wouldn't let him. Because
of his enlarged nose, this group was afraid they might become known
as the cosa nostril.
There are two other unfortunate characteristics you should know
about this young man.
1. Pinocchio was a snoopy, nosy character who was
constitutionally unable to mind his own business.
2. Next, he hated tobacco. In this Virginia town whose
total existence depended on tobacco, tobacco abolitionists were
greatly despised.
So, Pinocchio was an overly snoopy character who shunned
tobacco. It is no wonder he got into trouble with his "nose-poking
behavior".
Now, I should tell you some of Norm's imaginary history:
While he was in college, Norman tried to put himself through
school working at a strip club for English majors. The trouble was,
he didn't look any good in a dipthong.
While he was at school, he met Sherlock Holmes and asked him,
"What is the favorite flower of inorganic chemists?"
The answer was, "Elementary, Dear Norman, germaniums."
These particular flowers were especially the favorites of his
sex-changed sibling, his trans-sister.
He met a young lady that wanted to get married and have lots of
children, but he declined for reasons that are not readily apparent.
He considered becoming a gynecologist for Anna Nicole Smith, but
he found he didn't like obestity.
One of the folk arts in Norman's town of Toronto is the
construction of hand-sewn bed covers. This activity is so wide-
spread and so encouraged, that those who are non-participants suffer
from a quilty conscience.
I thank the International Save the Pun Foundation for my year as
Punster of The Year. If you haven't looked at it, Google "Tarzan's
Tripes Forever". It's a labor of love, or a love of labor, one or
the other.
I think the Foundation has made an excellent choice in Norman
Gilbert, and I thank him for coming down to be with us this year.
Cynthia Mac Gregor on Norm Gilbert
His name is Norm, but there's nothing normal about Norm Gilbert,
punster extraordinaire. Extra ordin aire? Does that mean when you
order extra puns from him, you can get extra air? Surely Norm's not
putting on airsÂ…he's just normalÂ…which I believe is 98.6. Or ninety-
eight point sex. If he wants to point to sex, that's his hang-up, not
mine. Though a mine is a terrible thing to waste. But we're not
talking about Norm's waist. That would be a waist of time. And thyme,
as we all know, is a very pungent herb. Well, Norm is a punny gent,
though his name definitely is not Herb.
His last name is Gibert. Gill – butt. Or, in other words,
there's something fishy here - you don't know your breathing
apparatus from your ass. But Norm's contributions to the world of
punditry are ass-tronomical. Now, we all know what astronomical
means. It derives from the term "astronomy," which is a meat similar
to corned beef. But nobody can beef about Norm's contributions to our
world of pun-ishment. He has a Website that's outasight. It's called
punpunpun. That's just in case you didn't get the message the first
time. He hits you over the head with it. PUN. PUN. PUN. He's really
angry that you didn't get the message. Hot cross puns. The site—and
it's quite a site to behold--is pun-laden, folks. And pun-laden is
just as dangerous as Osama bin Laden. Osama, can you see, by the
donzerly light?
But Norm isn't travelling light—donzerly or otherwise. He's
packed a heavy load—the mother lode—of puns into his Website, and his
Website is outtasight. Outtasight is something like outer space, and
Norm is definitely a spacey dude. He dude a lot of punning in the
course of his lifetime, much of it on his Website, in the
International Save the Pun Foundation, and in the publication The
Pundit. And Pundit is an appropriate title—whatever word Norman has
met in his lifetime, he has punned it.
Norman's friends have to put up with his relentless punning,
and the fact that he has any friends left is either a tribute to what
a great guy he is or the fact that his friends are desperate for
people to socialize with. Norm's puns come out in torrents, which is
a town in California. California got its name from the fact that so
many fornia people—you knowÂ…people from other countries—live there.
But I digress. Although I don't know why anyone would want to dye
gress. Its natural shade of green looks perfectly lovely.
But we were talking about Norm, who really isn't normal. Is any
punster? His puns are a barrage, and he parks his car in the barrage
whenever it's not in the driveway. (How much does a drive weigh,
anyhow?) Actually, driveway is what Norm doesÂ…he tells so many puns
he drives folks away.
But we're a band of inveterate punsters. Inveterate, of
course, refers to animals without spines. History has many famous
cases of spineÂ…Mata Hari was very well known for spyin'. Mata Hari
was a cousin of Mata DorÂ…but that's a lot of bull!
Bulls love to lie down in freshly made beds. That's the origin
of the phrase "bull sheet." But you'd better sheet any preconceived
notions you have about who's the punniest of all. Tonight we salute
Norm Gilbert as the king of puns. Hail, Norm. Which is not the same
thing as "Go to hell, Norm." But we wish you not hell but health. And
happiness and well being. Which is not the same as lima bean. But I'm
not lima. I'm telling the truth. Tonight we salute Norm GilbertÂ…or
Gill butt. And there's no buts about it. But I'm about to bid you
adieuÂ…or as Willy Shakespeare said, "Much ado about mutton." That
motto about mutton ought to be lamb-inated. And I feel pretty
sheepish offering such puns. But our honoree is no sheep date. In
fact, he rammed his way into our punsters' group with puns that are
really baaaaaaad.
As I said a minute ago, Hail, Norm Gilbert. We salute you.
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