Punmanship

Here Comes The Pun . . .

I'm picky about guitars.
A ruler of the soil could be called the Marquis de Sod.
Erasers are a vanishing institution.
The "Height" Report: The Sex Lives of Extremely Tall People.
When a fruit says its sorry, it apple-ogizes.
And then there was the exotic dancer who wore vegetable slices and called them "tomato pasties."
"Clawstrophobia" -- fear of being scratched in enclosed places.
The last Guinness ale before passing out is the "Pint of No Return."
A nose by any other name would still smell.
And then there was the cowboy from the state of Washington who was Seattle-sore.
Someone who throws those large plastic soft drink containers on the ground is a liter-bug.
I'm so bad at directions my friends call me an omnidirectional Mike.
Stamp collectors sound ungrateful when they ask, "What have you done for me philately?".

Question: What did the baby mountain say to mama mountain after its successful dental checkup?
Answer: Look Ma, no cave-ities.

Question: Why was the basement salesman particularly fond of his largest model?
Answer: It was his biggest cellar.

Question: What do you call an unnamed elk?
Answer: Ananymoose.

Question: What do you call it when a hillbilly gulps air?
Answer: A hick-up.

Question: Why did the train run off the track?
Answer: I don't know, but it must've had a loco motive.

I'll be adding to this list as time and bad taste allow.