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 |    Not for the faint of art. |
I don't really have a favorite joke. Jokes depend on circumstances, context, and audience.   PROMPT November 23rd In your blog today, tell us your favorite joke. It can be long, short, it does not matter. What makes this particular joke your favorite one? C'mon, show us your sense of humor! While I don't have a favorite joke, there are a few I remember from the days, pre-internet, when it was important to remember jokes because you couldn't just look them up by Googling the punch line. Of those few, a couple stick out because they elicit the best responses from the audience. Sometimes that response is hearty laughter, and that's fine. But sometimes, it's... well, let's just say I make sure they're not holding anything lethal when I tell them. There are a few versions of this one circulating. I'm not going to look any of them up, but I'll tell it my way. Also, I'm pretty sure I've typed it in here before, but I can't be arsed to look that up, either. Likely I told it differently before. That's how jokes are supposed to work, you know; there's not one "official" version, but they mutate over time. So this scientist was working hard, researching a way to vastly extend the lifespan of marine mammals. One of the important ingredients in the serum was extract of mynah bird. One day, while at a critical stage in the serum's development, testing it on his pet dolphin, he ran out of mynah bird extract. So he set out to the pet store to replenish his supply. While he was gone, though, there was a problem at the city zoo; some of the big cats escaped. The biggest cat of all ended up wandering around until he curled up on this scientist's doorstep. So he comes home, bag full of mynah birds in hand, but stops up short when he sees the King of the Beasts, right there on his doorstep, sleeping soundly. "Oh man," the guy thinks to himself. "Oh, no, what am I going to do? I have to get inside. I'm at a critical stage in my experiments! There's no other way into the house, and I sure don't want to wake him up." So he thinks about it for a few seconds, then starts sneaking up to the sleeping beast, ninja-like, tiptoeing as quietly as he possibly could. He gets one foot over the animal when suddenly a dozen cops appear out of nowhere, guns drawn. "Freeze, mister!" they call. "You're under arrest... ...for transporting mynahs across sedate lions for immortal porpoises!" And that's why I need to make sure there's nothing sharp or heavy in the vicinity when I tell it. That's also why it's one of my favorite jokes: I get to laugh at the audience's pain, and pain makes the best humor. Regarding the title, gelotology  is the study of laughter. Not to be confused with Jellotology. In fact, I don't know how to pronounce the G. I'm going to go ahead and assume it's a hard G like in gif, not a soft G like in Georgia. |
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