House of Eratosthenes

I was listening to Michael Savage take a call defending Laura Bush’s roasting of her own husband, President Bush. The caller chose to use what I guess is the only thing you could possibly say for the First Lady, the tried-and-true “aw gee whiz, can’t ya take a joke” defense, and it occurred to me we collectively have a serious problem today that goes far beyond the jocular realm of joking and roasting.

See, from the transcripts I’ve read, Laura Bush’s jokes were not only abusive, but they simply weren’t funny — at least, not to anyone who wasn’t already bearing hostile passions toward the President at the moment Laura Bush seized the stage. Particularly bothersome was the caller’s cavalier comment, “I don’t know of any wives who don’t make fun of their husbands once in awhile.” There is no middle ground on this. If you accept that ridiculing a husband is an indispensible part of marriage, Laura Bush only did what was natural, vital to a happy marriage, and indeed, what was long overdue. On the other hand, if you accept that some wives do *not* do this, then Laura’s behavior has been stripped of not only any defense it had, but any defense it possibly *could* have. Other married women respect their husbands; why can’t she?

And that illustrates why, although humor is ordinarily a private matter, this brand of it must be everybody’s business. If most people are in agreement with this caller, or if most people are merely sympathetic to what the caller said, I’m pretty sure I’ve been married for the last time. Marriage is a state of existence where ignoring what other people think, and *how* other people think, is a luxury you’ve given up forever. Your sense of humor is everybody else’s business, and their is yours. Jokes about being a “Desperate Housewife,” at the expense of your husband, are not harmless fun and they’re certainly not normal. I don’t care what anybody says, if this is an integral part of matrimony these days, count me out.

To those who would then accuse me of being humorless, I guess my response would have to be, at least in this one facet of comedy under discussion, you’re right.

I would then have to ask, are there any other ways to make people laugh? If not, then who exactly is it who lacks a sense of humor?

Humor is at its best when, if it is being used as a political weapon, this hostile purpose is relegated to a distant second-place status; the primary motive for the humor should be to entertain. Comedians ignore this rule at the expense of comedic value. To illustrate this, let’s take an example with a target I’d personally find delicious, Bill Clinton.

I say “You know why Hillary is so mad at Bill all the time? He makes her wear flat shoes in public so she doesn’t tower over him.” That was a classic joke about Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman when they were splitting up. A little on the mean side, not really knee-slapper material, but with Cruise/Kidman it has some humor in it because it connects to something widely understood about the targets. While his ex-wife is known for her regal, statuesque form (imdb biography lists her at 5′ 10�”), Tom Cruise is vertically compromised. Bill Clinton, at 6’2″, is not. With Cruise the joke is funny, with Clinton it isn’t. The Clinton joke, used in front of an audience of people who can’t stand Bill Clinton, like me, remains unfunny.

Suppose for the sake of argument, Hillary were to vouch for the anecdote that Bill makes her wear flats. This would make my hypothetical more similar to the unfortunate roasting event; Intellectually, you’d then have to accept it. She’s still his wife; who the hell would *you* be to contradict her? But here’s the kicker: Even then, the joke wouldn’t be funny. To worry about women towering over him, especially his own wife, is not Bill’s rep. To be told what kind of footwear to put on, by some guy, certainly is not Hillary’s.

So if such an expose came about, it would be heavy on the “oh my gosh” and extremely light on the “ha, ha”. It would not be humorous, and the only reason to laugh at such a thing would be out of petty meanness. It is human nature that to all of us at some time, and perhaps to some of us all the time, petty meanness can feel pretty good. By all accounts, this becomes a part of life inside the beltway. But all things that feel good, are not necessarily humor.

That’s the trouble I have with Laura’s “jokes”. Sure they drew laughter, but the material failed to connect with anything in the President’s “rep” save for this tidbit about going to bed early. Compare that to the howlers involving things the President actually did, for example, talking about putting food on your family, or injuring himself while eating pretzels. Out of necessity, then, any laughter rewarding Laura Bush had to be one part titter-titter and about eight to ten parts just-plain-mean.

Perhaps the time has come to admit something. The business activity — that is precisely what it is — of drawing political blood from political opponents in public, political settings, has been looking for shelter after shelter lately, like an ugly, vicious, venemous spider looking for a dark place. It has found a particularly suitable refuge in humor, where, when meanness is accused of being meanness, meanness can then lash back with the almost foolproof “can’t you take a joke” defense.

I say, for the sake of our collective intellectual health, if a joke passes the “being mean” test and fails the “being funny” test, let’s call it what it is. Surely that’s not an extreme position to take.

One other thing; I take it as a given, until it’s proven to me otherwise, that the woman who called Michael Savage is far, far in the majority with her idiotic ideas about how wives should treat their husbands. If you conduct a poll, especially among women, she is right and I am wrong. Any of you single, lusty women who are smarter than I am in this way, do me a favor. I’m big and fat and ugly and I never smile and I thoroughly lack what you think is “humor”. To ensure the happiness of all of us, let’s play a game where I’m Michael Corleone and you’re Fredo. You go someplace where you think I might be, let me know a day in advance so I won’t be there. And for God’s sake, stop hitting on me.

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Humor That’s Not FunnySunday, May 8th, 2005

Humor That’s Not Funny
Sunday, May 8th, 2005