Congratulations to Bob Dvorak!
POTY AWARD WINNER 2012
Bob’s face has been familiar to O.Henry Pun-Off contestants for the past decade. If his ugly mug hadn’t been so well-preserved in photos, Bob Dvorak may, in fact, be past decayed.
Punster of the Year 2012 – Bob Dvorak
This Is Your Life, Bob!
[This just in – Bob’s home town newspaper interviewed him about winning the P.O.T.Y. award.]
Bob was born a long time ago on Long Island (New York). He received his name and sense of humor, such as it is, from his father. His dad’s middle name, as is his, was Vincent. Dad told him early on that his initials were BVD, and people called him that for shorts. Such was born a literary career path.
People say “I grew up in Philadelphia.” “I grew up in Phoenix.” Bob tells people he was born and raised on Long Island and someday he’ll grow up. But at 18 he relocated to upstate New York to pretend to study engineering, and somehow never found his way back to “The Island.”
He studied engineering, half-heartedly (“Ya gotta half-heart…”) and, after three semesters, changed his major to literature. He stayed in college because the alternative was “the Draft”, which, at that time, would have placed him in a foxhole in S.E. Asia. The “enemy” never got to shoot at him because his Draft Board missed their shot (not to be confused with the shots later taken by PUNY). So he got a job in an Engineering environment and 10 years later received a B.S. in Communications from a top-shelf Engineering university. Now THAT all makes sense, right?
In any event (but not this one) he spent the better part of forty years in an engineering capacity. He holds several patents, although it’s not patently obvious. He understands hardware better than software, especially when the chips are down.
Meanwhile, he chased, and ultimately caught, the Love of his Life. They were married on Independence Day in 1975. She puts up with his sense of humor and is a champion eye-roller. She helps Bob with his Rogue riddles. Which brings them to this one-Hoss-t’n Austin.
For Christmas in 2001 the parents of their daughter’s best friend, recognizing his unbridled (there’s that one hoss, again) need for bad puns, gave him an anthology of some truly sticky puns, shaggy-dogs, etc. One of them (the Black Knight of the Black Horse) particularly struck him (ouch) and he started to transcribe it into an email for a friend of similar bent. (But does not “bent” describe the sense of humor of all of us?) He got halfway through one page and decided it could be on the Net and cut-and-pasted. Having cut-and to that idea, he did so. In the process he found this pun group in Austin. “PUNY?” Probably a small group. He joined. The rest is history. His pun career has spiraled downhill ever since as won with his reputation.
He stuck around long enough to be presented with an award for making people groan. Perhaps he should have been an acupuncturist, a dentist, or some such. But the thought of a dentist didn’t have enough pull for him, and, as for acupuncturist, he could never see the point.