A lot of my interest in the mechanics of humor comes from the mystery of how jokes form. I suspect part of the reason puns get so little love as a respectable form of humor is because they're so easy to reverse engineer-- words already sound like words, so one doesn't necessarily have to be actually clever to pipe up with "More like the lesser of two weevils," and then twist the knife by adding, "right??" They just have to be willing to die alone.
Personally, I think of jokes as puzzles: here's one thing, and here's another disparate thing, and figuring out how to unify them in a way that hides the weld takes skill, ingenuity and intent. Every once in awhile, I come across a joke that steadfastly resists forensic analysis. Seemingly plucked fully formed from the air and wrestled to earth, I have to resign myself to doing what I should be doing with jokes all the time: really, really enjoying it.
Last Sunday's Frazz is a marvel of joke engineering: simple setup, perfect pacing, and a solid dismount that ties back into the first panel while also standing on its own as a satisfying punchline. I realize I'm wading pretty deeply into the weeds on this one, but I can think of few venues better suited to me shouting "Holy macaroni, look how good the joke in this comic strip is!" besides this one. And, hey! This venue is equally conducive to my assurance that Frazz is reliably brilliant on a daily basis, and what's more, allows me the opportunity to provide you, the reader, a second link in the same paragraph to prove it!
Great job, Frazz. Not only did you renew my faith in the mystery of humor, but you also gave me a relatively stress-free means to a semi-decent concluding paragraph. What's next, Frazz? Allowing me to end this post with a rhetorical question instead of pulling everything together in a more substantive manner?