Remember when the joke was an American tradition? Up until around the mid-80s? No more. We don't have time for the pastoral, 20th Century structure of the joke anymore. This form of storytelling has gone the way of the Members Only jacket. Today, it's all quick observations and shock humor. The joke is dead. And I say: good riddance.
I always hated the joke. You had to listen and follow along with a phony grin of expectation as some putz took you through the build up. ("There's this salesman, right? Right?") You had to remember pertinent details. ("Did I say he had a wife? Well, he did; he had a wife, right?") Jesus, get to the point. This fucking joke's been going on for two minutes and I have my doubts about the punchline. Plus, the story's not so great. You're trying to tell me that a salesman with a buxom, nymphomaniac bride needs to spice things up by visiting a toothless gypsy?
Then there was that annoying change of tone in the teller's voice as he closed in on the punchline. (Here it comes!) And you sort of coughed out an obligatory chuckle, maybe repeating the punchline so the jokester realized that, yes, you understood and now wanted him to please stop bothering you.
I had a friend in high school whose father told long, rambling jokes that never seemed to go anywhere. After a while I realized that he just wanted to keep your attention for as long as possible. It was a form of control, disguised as a joke. I always felt like Woody Allen in Annie Hall during those times, when Alvy Singer had to endure that terrible comic in the checkered sports jacket. (How long can I sit here with this smile plastered on my face? Look at him, mincing around. He thinks he's so cute.)
My friend's father apparently considered himself a master storyteller, as opposed to, say, an insufferable prick. He'd even assume the voices and gestures of the many, many characters that inhabited his "jokes." It was an experience that was at once grotesque and mind numbing.
So now that the joke is dead, please let me be the first to dance on its grave. Goodbye, conversation ender. So long, homicidal thought provoker. See ya in hell, you stilted, empty-headed, watch check-inducing time stealer. You won't be missed by me.
It all reminds me of a story I overhead during a seminar in Boise. It seems there was this curvy blonde secretary, right?
2 comments:
Here, here! I only enjoy jokes when I read them. And mostly because I read them, and not someone else. The joke seemed to be invented as a way for unfunny people to be temporarily funny (depending on the humor inherent in the joke).
I've always preferred the sharp biting retort to either a pleasant or unpleasant exchange. The charm lies in the brevity. And the violence.
yea, but that "hormone" joke still gets me every time!
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