60 Periodic Table Puns That Are Pure Element-ary Comedy
Chemistry class ruined me. Not in the “I failed it” way (though I did get a C+ in honors chem, which my mom still brings up), but in the...
The Bean isn’t even called the Bean. It’s “Cloud Gate” by Anish Kapoor, and literally nobody calls it that. It’s like naming your dog Sir Reginald Bartholomew III and then calling him Biscuit. Anyway, I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about bean puns, and I’m not gonna pretend they’re all winners.
I’ve bean meaning to visit Chicago. That’s it. That’s the starter pun. We all knew it was coming, let’s just get it out of the way so we can move on to the good stuff.
This sculpture really steels the show.
I’m genuinely proud of this one because it works on two levels, the Bean is literally made of stainless steel, and it’s the most photographed thing in Millennium Park by a mile. It steels the show. It STEALS the show. Come on. That’s clean.
It’s a mirror-cle of modern art.
What’s the big idea, Bean?
(This works better if you say it out loud while gesturing at a 33-foot tall sculpture like it personally offended you.)
Yeah, I used the same word three times. The Bean is literally a giant mirror. What do you want from me.
You can’t un-bean what you’ve seen.
I told my friend I was going to see Cloud Gate and she said “what’s that?” I said “the Bean.” She said “oh why didn’t you just say so.” Because Anish Kapoor has feelings, Karen.
This place has a lot of curved appeal.
Curb appeal. Curved appeal. Because it’s… curved. I know. I KNOW. Moving on.
Why did the tourist stare at the Bean for three hours? They were having a reflective moment.
Bean there, done that. ✌️
(If you actually post this on Instagram I will find you and I will respect your commitment to the bit.)
It’s un-bean-lievable!
Terrible. Absolutely terrible. I’m including it because my cousin texted me this exact thing from Millennium Park in 2019 and I haven’t let her forget it.
This art piece is quite bean-chanting.
I walked up to the Bean at night when nobody was around and the entire Chicago skyline was reflected in it and for a second I forgot I was standing in 14-degree weather. Then I remembered. Quickly. But hey, it’s a polished performance by the city.
No ifs, ands, or beans about it.
It’s a real bean-hive of activity.
Beehive? Bean-hive? This barely works. I’m sorry. The ratio of effort to payoff here is criminal.
You’ve bean warned, it’s addictive.
“How was Chicago?”
“I’m bean-yond impressed.”
“Please stop.”
“I’m bean-yond words.”
“I’m hanging up.”
Quick sidebar: did you know they had to close the Bean for repairs once because people kept touching it and the oils from everyone’s hands were messing with the finish? Sixty-six tons of stainless steel, defeated by human fingerprints. We are a cursed species.
I’m bean-ginning to think this is my favorite spot in the city.
Chicago’s got two things that are impossible to resist: deep-dish pizza and a giant bean. One fills your stomach, the other fills your camera roll. Both are cheesy in their own way.
Why did the Bean break up with the Picasso sculpture in Daley Plaza? It said the relationship had no reflection.
It’s a smooth operator.
I’m bean-ing over backwards to get a good photo here and some dude just walked right into my shot eating an Italian beef sandwich. Peak Chicago energy tbh.
It’s a bean-utiful day in Chicago!
Your go-to text message when you land at O’Hare and the weather is above 40 degrees. Which is, statistically, like four months of the year.
This art is really growing on me, like a beanstalk.
The Bean sits in Millennium Park, which was supposed to open in 2000 (hence “Millennium”) but didn’t open until 2004. Four years late. The most Chicago construction timeline thing ever. You could say the city was just… taking its sweet bean time.
I’m proud of that one and I don’t care who knows it.
I’m totally bean-boozled by how big it is in person.
What do you call a selfie at Cloud Gate? A bean counter.
It’s a bean-mark in modern art. A landmark. A bean-mark. Get it? Okay yeah that one’s a D-minus.
Don’t be mean, come see the Bean.
This is the one I’d put on a bumper sticker. The tourism board should hire me. They won’t.
Riding the Brown Line to the Bean feels poetically correct. Brown beans. Brown Line. I didn’t plan this but the universe did.
I’m just trying to get my bean-ings straight.
This sculpture is a real eye-opener. Or should I say, a can-opener. Because it’s shaped like… okay no, it’s not shaped like a can. Forget it. Bean-opener? That’s not a thing either. I’m moving on.
It’s bean-eficial for the whole city’s tourism.
You know you’re a real Chicagoan when you haven’t visited the Bean in six years but you’ll aggressively defend it to anyone from another city. “Oh you’ve got the Space Needle? Cool, can you see your own face warped into an alien in it? No? Then sit down.”
It’s never a bad bean.
(Bad scene. Bad bean. This one kinda slaps actually.)
Three for the price of one. You’re welcome. Or I’m sorry. Depends on your tolerance.
It’s a solid piece of work. Literally. It weighs 110 tons.
I’m bean-lieving in public art again!
So Anish Kapoor, the artist, got into this whole feud with another artist over the blackest black pigment and it’s genuinely one of the pettiest art beefs of the 21st century. Look it up. Anyway. The Bean has nothing to do with that drama but I think about it every single time I see a photo of Cloud Gate. The man made a mirror bean and also has enemies. What a life.
This sculpture is truly out of this bean-iverse.
Ngl that one physically hurt to type.
Why do photographers love the Bean? Because every shot is a reflection of their talent. (Or lack thereof, I’ve taken approximately 200 photos at the Bean and they all look exactly the same.)
It’s a head-turner. A bean-turner. A whatever-you-want-to-call-it-turner.
I’ve bean thinking about this sculpture all day and I think that means I need a hobby.
Visiting the Bean in January is a bean-chilling experience.
And I mean that in the most literal, wind-off-Lake-Michigan, why-do-people-live-here sense possible. The Hawk doesn’t care about your art appreciation.
Caption this: standing under the Bean looking up 📸
“Just doing some navel-gazing.”
(The underside of the Bean is called the “omphalos,” which literally means navel. I didn’t make that up. That’s a REAL PUN EMBEDDED IN THE ACTUAL ARCHITECTURE. Anish Kapoor is one of us.)
It’s a bean-y good time in this city.
What did Lake Michigan say to the Bean? Nothing. It just waved.
Okay that’s not even a bean pun, that’s just a lake pun. I’m losing the plot.
Getting to the Bean via the Randolph/Wabash stop and walking through the park feels like a pilgrimage. A bean-grimage? No. I refuse. Some puns should stay in the drafts folder and that’s one of them.
…I included it anyway though.
This sculpture is bean-loved by all.
“Hey do you want to see Cloud Gate?”
“What?”
“The Bean.”
“Oh! Yeah!”
This isn’t a pun. This is just every conversation about the Bean that has ever happened.
Spill the beans, what’s your favorite Chicago landmark?
When someone asks who designed the Bean and you say “Anish Kapoor” without googling it, that’s a flex. A small, nerdy flex. But a flex.
I went to Chicago for the food, stayed for the bean. A tale as old as 2004 (when the park finally opened, four years late, because Chicago).
It’s a Chicago staple. Like deep-dish, but shinier. And with fewer calories. And you can’t eat it. Okay it’s nothing like deep-dish. But it’s still a staple.
The Bean at golden hour? Bean-credible.
Cloud Gate is made of 168 stainless steel plates welded together so seamlessly you can’t see the joints. Kind of like how I’m trying to seamlessly weld these puns together. Except you can absolutely see my joints. They’re terrible.
I’m bean-ing on visiting again soon. Like, idk, maybe next month. Depends on whether the Hawk has calmed down.
This sculpture is a bean-omenon.
Phenomenon. Bean-omenon. I’ve stared at this word for so long it doesn’t look real anymore.
You know what, the Bean is kinda like Chicago itself, bold, reflective, impossible to ignore, and everyone has an opinion about it. It’s been standing there since 2006 doing absolutely nothing and generating more conversation than most public art will ever see.
My favorite view? Standing under the omphalos at dusk while the city lights start flickering on in the reflection above you. No pun for this one. Some things are just good.
Alright fine, one more: has-bean? Never. The Bean is forever.
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