Dear headline puns,

Congratulations on your being everywhere lately. It really is remarkable how you have gone from campy kitsch to copy desk fave in such a short amount of time. Plays on words are the new black, and you sir are a trendsetter if ever we saw one.

Obviously, you owe a lot of credit to Kellen Moore and his homonym-rific last name. Ever since he was named starting quarterback of the Broncos, you have had free reign over lead-ins Valley-wide. Remember these tentpoles of guffaws?

• Four Moore years


• Moore is better


• Plenty Moore to come

We wish this letter could be as happy and carefree as your grammar requirements, but that is not the case. We are writing to tell you to end this charade. Please stop with the Kellen Moore allusions and groan-inducing witticisms. For the children, headline puns. For the children.

You have your place in this world, but we are doubtful that above the fold on newspapers with circulations greater than 1,000 is that place. Sure, the past few weeks have been a wild ride, landing on message boards and papers and student-body approved flyers, but we need the ride to end. There is a time and a place for your particular brand of humor, headline puns, and the news at 10:00 is neither that time nor that place.

Come on back to the blogs.

We were the ones that loved you far before traditional media ever did. We rescued you from the dredges of corporate newsletters and email forwards and gave you a platform to entertain and exasperate our audiences of tens and sometimes twenties, depending on how many family was in town. You always knew you had a home with us; we bloggers are constantly in the market for witty non sequiturs that could run on for sentences. Remember "Can you smell what the Brock is cooking?" That was one of the top ten moments of our senior year in college.

We'd hate to see you plastered on the pages of the Statesman where their educated, handsome, NE Boise residents do not appreciate you the way you should be appreciated. There's no sense in groaning up the sports page when you could be killing in blogger country. We love you, headline puns. Can't you see that? Put down the figurative rubber chicken, step away from Mike Prater's iMac, and come back home.

We need something to put on top of tomorrow's WAC post.

Sincerely,
OBNUG