(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
We Americans may be guilty of using too many natural resources, consuming too much food, and exporting a corrupt culture throughout the world, but at least we have a sense of humor about it. A BEST AMERICAN JOKE EVER! can poke fun of the unique foibles of the United States without offending Americans enough to send out the drones . The following anecdotes might not be the funniest American jokes ever, but since they can be appreciated by Americans, non-Americans, and even anti-Americans, these are some of the BEST AMERICAN JOKES EVER!
*****
DOESN’T ANYONE SPEAK ENGLISH AROUND HERE?
A hotel clerk in a country that was NOT the United States was getting tired of the steady stream of Americans who could speak only English.
“I remember years ago when Americans would at least try to speak our language,” the hotel clerk said to the other hotel employees. “The Americans would usually mess it up, and we would laugh at them behind their backs, but at least they tried.”
An American tourist staying at the hotel then came to the desk to lodge a complaint. Of course, he spoke in English.
“Nobody speaks English around here,” the outraged American said to the clerk. “The maid can’t understand me when I proposition her. The television stations are all in your weird language. You’re the only one here who speaks English worth a damn.”
The hotel clerk rolled his eyes and said slowly, “Where I’m from, the person who is visiting learns his host country’s language.”
“And where I’m from,” the American said, “the guy who’s spending all the money gets to choose what language is spoken.”
*****
A UNITED STATES vs. EUROPEAN UNION JOKE
A Greek guy walked into a bar and ordered a drink. Unfortunately, the Greek guy was broke, and the bartender knew it, but the bartender served him anyway because he didn’t want the Greek to throw a fit and start a riot.
Then an American guy, tired after a day of protecting huddled masses yearning to breathe free, making the world safe for democracy, and maybe (according to some) engaging in a few illegal wars, entered the bar and ordered a drink.
Unfortunately, the America guy was broke, and the bartender knew it, but after a quick discussion, he served the American.
When the Greek heard that the American guy was broke, he started laughing.
“What are you laughing at?” the American said. Normally, he’d be ready to fight, except now he was too tired and spread too thin to care that much.
“I think it’s funny that you’re broke,” the Greek said.
“You’re broke too,” the American said, puzzled.
“Yes, we’re both broke,” the Greek responded, “but you work a lot harder than I do.”
*****
TERRORIST MAGAZINE HIRES AMERICAN WRITER
A major terrorist publication was looking to hire a new American editor after a U.S. drone had killed its previous hire. A U.S. citizen trying to make it big in the writing profession (without having to spend all his time blogging, tweeting, and Facebooking) agreed to interview for the position, and he traveled to a terrorist stronghold to explain how he would make changes to increase the terrorist magazine’s circulation.
“First of all,” the American interviewee said, “we need to change the focus of our feature columns. Articles about guns and mass destruction only appeal to a small segment of the population. If you want to attract a greater percentage of impressionable males, you need articles about porn flicks and strippers.”
The (temporary, though he didn’t know it) terrorist leader agreed with the American’s suggestions, and soon the American was hired. When the American editor told his parents about his new job, they were concerned.
“If you’re successful,” his parents said, “the U.S. government will send drones out to kill you too.”
“That’s why I’m having the magazine focus on strippers and porn,” the new American editor replied. “Even more potential terrorists will read my magazine, and nobody in the U.S. government will want to kill me.”
Rumor has it that Mark Twain tried to make duck face for this photograph, but he mistimed his facial expression. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It makes sense that there’s video footage of Mark Twain (even though I didn’t know about it until a couple days ago). He was friends with Thomas Edison, and Nikola Tesla, and if you put those three together, anything is possible.
The video (found at the Internet Archive… I promise you won’t get Rick rolled!) is a little over a minute long, but I despise spoilers, so I won’t tell you what happens in it. However, I don’t mind telling you what doesn’t happen.
- Mark Twain doesn’t get whacked in the crotch.
- Mark Twain doesn’t play air guitar in his underwear.
- Mark Twain doesn’t go face to face with the camera and pucker his lips.
- There aren’t any cats jumping crazily out of nowhere to mess things up.
- There aren’t any creepy looking girls climbing out of wells and crawling toward the viewers.
By today’s standards, the video footage is kind of dull, but it’s Mark Twain!
*****
The video reminds me that Mark Twain used to hang out with Nikola Tesla and Thomas Edison (but not at the same time… I don’t think). Hanging out with Edison, Twain, and Tesla at the same time would have been cool (and impossible), but I would have been the odd man out. I probably would have needed Twain to explain everything that Edison and Tesla were saying, and I would have been the guinea pig (once Twain got tired of the gig) in Tesla’s experiments.
The only contribution I could have made to their conversations would have been something like:
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Don’t hit that switch yet. I said don’t hit that… AAAaaarrrrgh! I TOLD YOU NOT TO HIT THAT SWITCH YET!”
I don’t think the other three guys would have been interested in what I had to say.
*****
My grandfather’s favorite author was Mark Twain, and one of the few books I kept when I got rid of most of my collection is a 1953 edition of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer that used to belong to him. It’s kind of beat up, but I think it’s cool that my grandfather used to read that copy before I was born. At least I think it was his. If I’m wrong about that, I don’t want to know.
I’m pretty sure that my grandfather didn’t get to see this video, unless it could have been viewed at a Mark Twain museum decades ago. I live in a time when I can move my fingers on a screen and watch a video of Mark Twain. Twain, Tesla, and Edison probably would have thought that was impressive.
*****
One thing (out of many) that I respect about Mark Twain was that he wrote two books about kids (Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn) without making me cringe. I’m not a fan of kids that are supposed to be (or think they’re) cool, but Tom Sawyer is probably the the coolest fictional kid ever, way cooler than Holden Caulfield. I respect O. Henry a lot too, but I despised that kid in “The Ransom of Red Chief,” and that was just a short story (yes, I know we’re supposed to despise the kid). In reality, no kid is cool (they just think they are), but Tom Sawyer is as close to cool as a kid can get.
It probably takes a cool guy to write about a cool kid, so I’m guessing that Mark Twain was a cool guy, and I’m glad there’s video footage of him.
Man, I hope this footage doesn’t turn out to be a hoax.
Related articles
- Mark Twain Looking Pretty Cool in a Silent Film From 1909 (theatlantic.com)
The good thing about a book called Having a Few and Getting Some is that everybody should know right away what it’s about.
I don’t know if I should be ashamed or proud of Having a Few and Getting Some (my e-book), but here is an excerpt:
*****
Chapter One
Theory vs. Application
When I turned 16, my dad got me an older woman for my birthday.
By “older woman,” I mean she was just a few years older than me, and she was really nice looking. Her name was Meg. At least, she told me her name was Meg. She had long, flowing dark hair, and she smelled really good. My dad told me I had three hours to do whatever I wanted to do with Meg, and then he left us alone in the house.
A few days later, my dad stormed into my bedroom, furious. He had found out that I had asked Meg to drive me to the comic book store. I hadn’t gotten my driver’s license yet, and I was a couple weeks’ behind on the new comics, and my parents were tired of driving me, and it had been my birthday, that was what I had wanted to do.
“Do you know how much money I spent on her?” my dad yelled. “If all you wanted to do was drive to the comic book store, I could have done that myself.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “But you wouldn’t have dressed like Wonder Woman and fooled around with me in the comic book stacks.”
*****
No, my dad didn’t really get me an older woman for my birthday.
I tell this story because it always gets people’s attention. I’m a nondescript guy with a slow, dull voice. I don’t have any charisma. I’m probably more intelligent than most people, but it doesn’t always do much good because people don’t listen to me when I talk. I can discuss politics, sports, religion, science, history, and comic books, but nobody cares what I have to say… until I tell them about my older woman.
*****
My First Beer
When I was fifteen, my dad gave me a six-pack of beer and told me to drink it in my room.
“I know teenagers drink nowadays,” he said. “So I’d rather you did it here where I know you can’t get into any trouble.”
I’d never had beer before. My friends went to parties, but I collected comic books, and guys who bought comics didn’t get invited to parties where kids drank beer. I figured this was my chance to learn how to be a cool kid, so I downed a bunch of the beer at one time and felt my first buzz.
Then I threw up in my bedroom.
Then I threw up in the hallway.
Then I threw up in the bathroom (missing the toilet).
To my credit, I started cleaning up my messes myself. My dad stepped out (of the living room, I think).
He took one look at the mess in the hallway and said, “The next time I give you some beer, drink it at someone else’s house.”
*****
My dad didn’t get me beer for my birthday either.
Like I mentioned, people think I’m a boring guy, and I usually don’t give them much reason to believe otherwise. I don’t like talking in large groups. I don’t talk to others until I’m really comfortable around them, and that can take a while, so there’s no reason for anybody to think I’m that interesting. I get along with almost everybody, so there’s no reason for anybody to hate me either. I’m not that interesting, and I’m not hated. I’m a person that inspires no emotional reaction at all.
*****
Who Would It Be?
It’s a question that makes most (heterosexual) men uncomfortable: If your life depended on having an intimate physical experience with another guy, who would that guy be? Most men would stammer and hesitate and then reluctantly name someone who would punch him out if he ever found out about it.
I wouldn’t hesitate. The guy’s name is Craig (I’ve forgotten his last name). I was a sophomore in high school, and he was a senior (that’s not the reason). He had a symmetrical face, perfect teeth, and a surfer’s tan (that’s still not the reason). He also had a rare charisma and the ability to tell spellbinding stories that held the attention of every student in my high school. He transcended cliques. Jocks, nerds, burnouts, band geeks, hoodlums, preppies (Craig was a preppy), it didn’t matter. When Craig performed his stories, everybody else became mesmerized. Whether it was the classroom, the cafeteria, a basement party, the fast food parking lot, none of that mattered.
Craig’s dad was in the air force, so he had moved around a lot before settling into our own semi-military town. Craig was a new kid, so his story telling was a novelty. But I’ve always been critical of books and movies (maybe too much so), and after listening to dozens of his anecdotes, I realized something.
All of Craig’s stories were the same. There was a party in some weird location, somebody threw up, and Craig always got some. These stories were the opposite of my own life because I threw up a lot and never got any. Craig’s stories always involved kids who didn’t go to our school (his relatives, friends, and students from his previous schools), so nobody could check his veracity.
WARNING: When you’re in high school, never declare that you want to check another guy’s veracity. I almost got punched out for that. Just say “truthfulness” instead.
When I suggested to others that Craig was making up stories, some other guy said, “You’re just jealous because he’s getting some and you’re not.”
That ended the argument.
It was true. Craig got a lot (I was never involved), and I never got any (except for the older woman, but that never happened, so she didn’t count, even though an alarmingly high number of people believed the story). But despite the similar formula in each of Craig’s anecdotes, the stories never got old (except for me). And this made me admire Craig even more. I probably learned more from Craig than anybody else I’ve ever met.
Here’s that one all-important lesson I learned from Craig: if you’re a (boring) guy and you need to hold a crowd’s attention, all you have to do is talk about having a few and getting some.
*****
END OF EXCERPT!!!
If you like Having a Few and Getting Some so far, it’s available on the Amazon Kindle for $2.99. I think the sample that Amazon provides you goes further into the book, so if you’re not sure if you want to buy this or not, you can still read more for free.
Hey, I always take advantage of the samples, so you should too.
Gore Vidal: “Half of the American people have never read a newspaper. Half never voted for president. One hopes it is the same half.” Oh yeah? Well, you… you suck! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I could never be a literary writer because my prose isn’t very good and my insult repertoire is too limited. When somebody impugns my character, I choose one of three responses:
“You suck.”
“(Derogatory term) you!”
“Your mom _____ ______ ______ last night.”
That’s pretty much all you need to get through life.
*****
Gore Vidal died last night/week/month/year/decade (depending on when you read this). He was a little before my time. I read Lincoln, not because Gore Vidal wrote it, but because I went through a phase where I was fascinated by Abraham Lincoln (but not fascinated enough to write stories about him hunting vampires or to write an alternate history where he gets impeached), so I’m not a Gore Vidal expert, and this is not a tribute.
Gore Vidal liked to insult people, and some of his fans find that endearing. Gore Vidal might not fit in anymore in this era of anti-bullying, but he wasn’t the only author of his time (or earlier times) to be like that. Famous authors used to be known for their put downs, and a lot of their insults got a bit personal.
For example, Vidal supposedly said/wrote this about Ernest Hemingway: “What other culture could have produced someone like Hemingway and not seen the joke?”
My writing instructors would have said that was not constructive criticism.
Gore Vidal allegedly said/wrote this about Truman Capote: “He’s a full-fledged housewife from Kansas with all the prejudices.”
I know a few housewives from Kansas, and all of them could come up with a better insult than that.
That’s just it; a lot of literary insults really aren’t that good. Their insults might be clever (maybe), but their snootiness and condescension makes them ineffective to the average (non-literary) person.
Dorothy Parker was another writer (before Gore Vidal’s time) famous for her insults. Since I wasn’t around then, I don’t know if her targets deserved her nasty remarks. Dorothy Parker might have been the wrong chick to start playing the dozens with, or she might have been a literary bully who needed sensitivity training.
When Dorothy Parker (allegedly) insulted Katherine Hepburn by saying, “She runs the gamut of emotions from A to B,” had Katherine Hepburn done or said something to Dorothy Parker first?
Another problem with classic literary insults is that we rarely get to hear the comeback. When Dorothy Parker insulted Atlas Shrugged (“This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.”), what was Ayn Rand’s response? Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t a sound bite.
When Dorothy Parker called her husband “queer as a billy goat,” did her husband respond by boycotting Chick-Fil-A?
Even with the internet, it’s difficult to find answers to these questions.
EASY COMEBACKS FOR CLASSIC LITERARY INSULTS
Earlier I mentioned my limited repertoire of three comebacks. They’re not creative, but the weapons in my crude limited rhetorical arsenal can be effective, and I’ll apply them to a few of the more well-known classic literary insults.
Oscar Wilde : “He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.”
Comeback: “Go (derogatory term) yourself, and get a haircut while you’re at it.”
Mark Twain (about a Henry James book): “Once you put it down, you simply can’t pick it up.”
Comeback: “You suck, and so does Tom Sawyer, Detective.”
Dorothy Parker: “And there was that wholesale libel on a Yale prom. If all the girls attending it were laid end to end, I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”
Comeback: “Oh yeah? I saw your mom at the Yale prom.”
*****
You have to be careful when mentioning an adversary’s mother. When I was in high school, I described my previous night’s sexual exploits with my adversary’s mother and thought I had won the insult exchange because of the sudden silence of the crowd. I then learned that my adversary’s mother had died in some tragic fashion a couple years earlier.
Sometimes you’re better off just saying “(Derogatory term) you!” and walking off.
*****
Just so you know, I hardly ever really talk to people like that (maybe once every ten years or so).
The revolutionaries are happy now, but let’s see what happens when they realize that nobody is buying their e-books. (Photo credit: sweejak)
I don’t trust revolutions. Yes, I’m benefitting from the results of the American Revolution, but I’m glad I wasn’t around when it happened. Revolutions usually lead to piles of innocent dead people and a tyrant that’s worse than the authority figure the revolution is replacing. I don’t mind change, but usually revolutions bring too much change too quickly.
Scottish author Denise Mina says that the publishing industry is going through a “revolution” because e-books are bringing such quick changes to the literary world. This author of the award winning book The End of the Wasp Season (I’d never heard of this book or the award it won) calls the growth of e-books a “revolution” because the working class will use digital novels to overcome the shackles that the publishing industry has always placed on them (almost all of that was paraphrased).
So, the revolution is that anybody can publish an e-book (including we “working class” folk). That’s great! But the bad news that comes with this is that anybody (even “working class” folk) can publish an e-book.
There will be (or already is?) a glut of e-books. So many people are writing e-books (or will write e-books) that there might be more writers than readers. And readers are very important to writers.
All of this is kind of deep for me. I work at a job that has little to do with reading and writing, so I don’t have time to think about all the implications of the revolutionary stuff that’s going on, even though it will affect what/how I read and write.
My only question in all of this is: when I write my e-book, will anybody (other than my mom) buy my book?
From what I understand, most e-books don’t get purchased (or read) much, except by Mom. That’s a lot of pressure to put on Mom. I feel sorry for the mom with five or more kids. They’re all going to write e-books, and she’ll have to spend all her time (and money) reading them. If each kid writes two or three books a year, she’ll never have time to catch up on the latest Janet Evanovich tale, Incredible Infinity (okay, I made that one up!).
FULL DISCLOSURE TIME
I’m writing an e-book. My mom says she is going to buy it. This is one of the few times in my life when I (kind of but not really) wish that I had been raised in an alternative lifestyle kind of family. That way I could have had two moms, and that might have doubled my e-book sales.
My wife has read parts of my soon-to-be e-book and has major issues with it. That’s the problem with marrying a literary girlfriend; she can’t just read something and say, “You used the wrong ‘it’s’ here.” She has to explain how my characters are one-dimensional, the motivations are lacking, and my humor is lame.
Yeah, I know all that, but I still want to know if she’ll buy my e-book.
EPILOGUE
Maybe I shouldn’t make fun of Janet Evanovich’s book titles. I’ve never read Explosive Eighteen, but the title just doesn’t sound right to me. Authors are supposed to read their words aloud to see if they sound the way the author meant for them to sound (probably a poor way for me to say that, which is ironic). I don’t always read everything I write aloud, but did Janet Evanovich ever read this book title out loud? Explosive Eighteen? That doesn’t sound good to me at all. It might look good on a cover, but Egg-splosive Ay-Teen?
Maybe a guy who is about to publish an e-book (that only Mom might buy) shouldn’t make fun of some other author’s (real) bestselling book title.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The United States higher education system has some problems right now. The costs are high, students are taking out too many loans for too much money, and too many graduates can’t find jobs. On the bright side, the parties are awesome! Between the beer, the babes, and the breaks, college life is the source of much humor.
A BEST COLLEGE JOKE EVER! is one which everyone, even those who haven’t completed their higher education, can enjoy . The following anecdotes might not be the funniest college jokes ever, but since even those who want nothing to do with college can appreciate them, these are some of the BEST COLLEGE JOKES EVER!
*****
Initiation Night
It was pledge time, and a fraternity was choosing which freshmen to initiate into its brotherhood. Only four pledges had made it through the fraternity’s rigid selection process (being able to afford the dues), and as the fraternity president looked over his pledges, he thought of the joy this night would bring.
Tonight, as these unsuspecting young pledges would soon find out, was hazing night. The fraternity had special blindfolds, handcuffs, and various instruments of poking and prodding to insure that the pledges would be loyal to the fraternity. The fraternity members received no pleasure from conducting these rituals, the president reminded himself. It was merely a formality, of course.
As the selection process was winding down, the president asked each pledge, “What do you have to offer to this fraternity?”
The first pledge, an intellectual, said, “I have the highest GPA on campus, and all my future awards and academic accomplishments will bring great honor to this fraternity.”
The second pledge, a hunk, answered, “Women love me, so whenever there’s a party, you can just put me by the front door, and all the hot sorority babes on campus will be here.”
The third pledge, a smooth talker, said, “I’ve heard this fraternity has almost gotten kicked off campus a few times. You need a guy like me to calm the campus officials down when parties get crazy. I can talk my way out of anything.”
The fourth pledge said, “I don’t really have any special skills, but I’ll do anything you want so that I can be part of this fraternity.”
The fraternity president was pleased with all the answers, but the intellectual then said, “We want to join this fraternity, but we will not tolerate getting hazed. That ritual is archaic and childish, and if you try to haze any one of the pledges, then all of us will quit.”
This annoyed the fraternity president, but three of the four pledges were top notch, so he reluctantly agreed.
The next morning as the four pledges were waking up in their quarters, a bunch of fraternity brothers barged into the room and grabbed the fourth pledge.
“Please come with us,” the fraternity president said.
The intellectual, the hunk, and the smooth talker sat still in their beds as they heard the fourth pledge screaming in another room. His shrill pleas of “Noooooooo!” put all three of them on edge.
“I really want to be a part of this fraternity, but they agreed to no hazing,” the smooth talker said.
“If he’s going to be our fraternity brother, we have to help him out,” the hunk said, ready to bust some heads.
“If they get away with doing that to him, they’ll think they can do that to us too,” the intellectual said.
The intellectual, the hunk, and the smooth talker marched out of their quarters and ran into the fraternity president.
“You agreed to no hazing,” the hunk said, outraged and ready to fight. The pledge’s screams of “Nooooooo!” still echoed down the hallway.
“Wait!” the fraternity president said, backing away. “I promise you, there is no hazing going on.”
“We hear the screams,” the smooth talker asked. “If he’s not being hazed, then what are you doing?”
“We just found out that he can’t pay his fraternity dues,” the president explained.
“That doesn’t justify the physical abuse,” the intellectual said.
“If he can’t pay his dues, then he can’t join the fraternity,” the president said. “He just realized that next year he has to live in the dorms.”
*****
Spring Break!
Three college guys (a hunk, a smooth talker, and an intellectual) traveled to a beach during Spring Break. The hunk and the smooth talker were going for obvious reasons (beer, women in bikinis, and drunk women in bikinis), but they couldn’t figure out why the intellectual was going.
“I’m going on Spring Break to have a few and to get some,” the hunk said. “Why are you going?”
“I’m studying the mating habits of inebriated women in unfamiliar surroundings,” the intellectual said.
“Good for you,” the smooth talker said. Both the hunk and the smooth talker were a bit uncomfortable around the intellectual, but he was quiet and paid more than his fair share, so he was welcomed on the trip.
When they got to the hotel room, the hunk and the smooth talker worked out sleeping (with women) arrangements so that they had a schedule that wouldn’t interfere with each other. Since the intellectual wasn’t going to bring back any women, his sleeping (by himself) schedule would be flexible.
Later that day, both the hunk and the smooth talker returned to the hotel room, each with a bikini clad partner, at the same time. Since this wasn’t supposed to happen, they began arguing about the arrangement.
“I get 7:00 to 9:00,” the hunk said.
“No, that’s your time tomorrow night,” the smooth talker replied (he was lying but figured he could smooth talk the hunk into believing him). They would have argued for a few more minutes, but one of the bikini-clad women spoke up.
“Can you two argue about this inside?” she asked. “I really need to use the bathroom.”
When they opened the hotel door, they were stunned to see the intellectual naked in bed with two really hot women (no longer wearing their bikinis). It was pretty obvious what had been going on, and both the hunk and the smooth talker were flabbergasted. Their female partners were already in the bathroom and didn’t care.
“But… but… but…,” the hunk said.
“You said you were here to study the mating habits of inebriated women in unfamiliar surroundings,” the smooth talker said.
“That’s why I’m an intellectual,” the intellectual said. “I can understand your euphemisms, but you don’t understand mine.”
*****
Prank Day
It was the morning of Prank Day, and word spread throughout the college frat house that the fraternity intellectual was throwing up all over the place and that he might be contagious. The frat boys were readying their Prank Day tomfoolery, but quickly decided it would be best to leave the intellectual alone while he was sick.
The Prank Day jokes continued for everybody else. Somebody put itching powder in the frat president’s toilet paper. The frat smooth talker got KY jelly in his saline solution. The frat hunk got set up with a hot babe who turned out to be a dude (and there was great frat boy hilarity when the hunk discovered this). Everybody in the house fell victim to an Prank Day joke, everybody except the frat intellectual.
It was very late that night when the hunk and the smooth talker confronted the intellectual in his bedroom. The intellectual was working on an intellectual project with another intellectual (one who didn’t live in the frat house).
“Feeling better, are you?” the smooth talker asked suspiciously.
“Whatever do you mean?” the intellectual responded.
“It’s convenient that you’re feeling better, now that Prank Day is over,” the hunk said. “You’re the only guy in the house that didn’t get pranked.”
“It seems that is the case,” the intellectual said.
“I know what you did,” the hunk continued. “You just pretended to be sick so that the rest of us would leave you alone.”
“That is an interesting theory,” the intellectual said slowly.
“Well played,” the smooth talker exclaimed. “You pulled the ultimate Prank Day prank. You’re like super-ninja kung-fu Prank Day Zen master, using passive defensive prank tactics so that we would leave you alone and you wouldn’t have to retaliate against us. I bow down to your awesomeness.”
Even the hunk agreed that the intellectual was brilliant, and both bowed to the intellectual before leaving his room.
“They’re right,” the visiting intellectual said. “That was a genius strategy to avoid Prank Day conflict.”
“As long as they think that,” the intellectual replied, shaking his head. “I actually threw up this morning because somebody replaced the sugar on my cereal with salt.”
*****
WHICH POLITICAL PARTY SHOULD I JOIN?
This is more like a political joke, but it involves the intellectual, the hunk, and the smooth talker, and it takes place at the end of their academic days.
*****
A bunch of college guys were sitting around in their frat house when the fraternity smooth talker made an announcement.
“I have decided what I am going to do after college,” the smooth talker declared. “I am going to become a politician.”
The other frat guys nodded, since the smooth talker had shown little aptitude for anything except an amazing ability to convince women to give him stuff for nothing in return (except momentary affection and empty promises).
“Now that I have chosen my career, I must choose my political party,” the smooth talker continued. “Should I become a republican or a democrat? I don’t even know the difference between the two.”
“There isn’t a difference,” said the fraternity hunk, who was a libertarian. “The only difference between republicans and democrats is that most republicans at least know that their candidates suck.”
“That is a shallow way of delineating the differences between republicans and democrats,” the frat intellectual said. “It depends on where you stand on a number of issues. What do you think about the economy, the deficit, the national debt, health care, gas prices, national defense, and the environment?”
“Babes,” the smooth talker said. “Which party has more babes?”
“Women tend to vote democrat a bit more than they do republican,” the intellectual responded. “But that’s not a valid reason to…”
“Then a democrat I shall be!” the smooth talker proclaimed, cutting off the intellectual. “I shall represent women, and minorities, and the poor in their struggles against the oppressors in this country.”
“But you are the oppressor,” the hunk said, puzzled. “You treat women like dirt in your personal life. You voted the poor students out of this fraternity because they couldn’t pay their dues. You tell the vilest racist jokes I’ve ever heard. And you say you want to help these people?”
“I am a politician,” the smooth talker said with a wink. “Just because I say I want to help women, minorities, and the poor doesn’t mean I have to hang out with them.”
And with that, the smooth talker stepped out of the frat house to begin his political career.
The hunk was furious, but the intellectual couldn’t figure out why.
“You always thought the smooth talker’s antics were funny when he got women to pay his way for everything,” the intellectual said. “What has changed?”
“I just got hired by a huge corporation,” the hunk explained. “Now that he’s a politician, it’s guys like me that will have to pay his way for everything.”
A beautiful sunrise (somebody else took the picture), but I missed it because I stayed up too late the previous night reading and writing. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The idea behind this experiment was pretty simple. I was going on vacation. There were no books that I had a burning desire to read. Maintaining my blog was going to be inconvenient (but possible) and would have annoyed my wife (not a good idea). So I simplified things. During my week-long vacation, I decided that I would not read or write.
Because of this simple decision, three good things happened during my vacation.
1. I went to bed earlier.
This might sound trivial, but it’s very important. Getting to bed earlier (because I wasn’t reading after bedtime) meant I woke up earlier, more refreshed and less grumpy. I saw sunrises that I otherwise would have missed. I ate breakfast before my family got up (I eat way more than anyone else in my family, and sometimes they get mad when they have to wait for me to finish).
I had time to analyze various routes (reading a map isn’t really reading) before we left the hotel every morning. We got to the amusement park before it opened and avoided a lot of the lines (until the afternoon crowd got there). We got to the mountain roads before they got clogged. We got to the beaches before they became overcrowded. And no traffic (until we left in the evenings) meant much less bickering in the car.
2. I was nicer to my children.
I’m usually fairly pleasant to/around my kids, but something happens to me when I’m deep in concentration (whether it’s reading or writing). If I get interrupted, my response is sometimes rude. My kids get their feelings hurt, and I have to apologize. My wife also gets mad, and sometimes apologizing isn’t enough. I try to warn them to not interrupt me if I’m reading or writing unless it’s really important, but to kids, everything is really important, and to my wife, nothing should be more important than her, so I have bad moments every once in a while.
Last week when I didn’t read or write, I didn’t have bad moments. I was never getting interrupted because I was never deep in concentration (except when I was driving). I didn’t snap at their requests because I really wasn’t doing anything else. I was in a good mood (except for a couple afternoon traffic jams).
My only bad moment wasn’t really my fault. My daughter was goofing around in the hotel room and accidentally kung fued me in the groin. The only good thing about getting kung fued in the groin is that I couldn’t immediately respond (and it’s the immediate responses that hurt my children’s feelings). I had time to think things through.
3. I didn’t get into stupid arguments with my wife.
My wife watches tv while I read. This should be a peaceful arrangement (I can tune out the television most of the time), but then she ruins it by talking to me during the commercials (it’s not wise for me to tune out my wife). The commercials rarely correspond with chapter/scene breaks in the books I’m reading, and I occasionally snap at her with something like ‘I don’t interrupt your show just because I finish a chapter!” and then we argue about stupid stuff until her show starts up again, and we stop arguing. I have my faults, but I know not to argue with my wife my wife during a reality show.
With nothing to read at night, I watched television in the hotel room with my wife and learned a lot about what not to wear (I’d better update my wardrobe or I might be embarrassed on cable) and that home remodelers almost always choose to “list it.” It was a remarkably peaceful hotel room for only one television. But this arrangement never would have worked during football season.
*****
Last week reinforced my belief that reading and writing are not addictions. I enjoy reading and writing, but I can stop whenever I want. It’s not like drinking or smoking or playing video games (or watching porn) where the urge is constant and sometimes overwhelming for some people. I didn’t miss the reading or writing (or smoking or drinking or watching…).
Now that we’ve returned home, and we’re back to our routines, I have begun reading and writing again. But now I’m going to be more careful about snapping at my family when they interrupt me. After all, my kids are at an age when they actually like being around me (despite my faults), and that phase isn’t going to last much longer. Plus, my daughter has learned the power of the “accidental” kung fu kick, and she’s not afraid to use it.
This might make something not funny. Yes, I know I should leave the mimes alone. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The problem with humor is that so much of it is subjective. I laugh at the television show The Big Bang Theory, and my wife stares impassively (then complains about the annoying laugh track, and she’s probably right). My wife laughs at all the Real Housewives shows, and I stare impassively (praying that my wife never becomes like them).
Both my wife and I laugh at videos where guys get hit in the nuts. That kind of humor is universal.
When I travel or go on vacation, I like to read humorous books. When I’m in the airport or on a plane, I still have the urge to read but I can’t concentrate much, so I need something that isn’t challenging. Two years ago, I read Sh*t My Dad Says and last summer I read Bossypants. I’m not sure what I’m going to read on my next upcoming vacation, so I’ve been perusing samples on my e-reader.
*****
Writing a humorous book is probably difficult because the author has to make hundreds of pages funny. Some comedians have a tough time making five minutes funny. And a writer of humor has to write more material for a book than a comedian does for a routine.
If a comedian has a routine that goes on for an hour, he/she probably has to come up with about 10- 20 pages of stuff (estimate with no empirical data to back that up). Talking takes longer than reading silently (unless you have to mouth the words as you read). Then a comedian has to pause for laughter (if he’s any good). The comedian needs bonus material for (planned) spontaneity, such as asking a bunch of audience members where they’re from.
That doesn’t mean it’s easier to be a comedian. A comedian has to be comfortable on stage (I’d probably dry heave, which would be more entertaining than the rest of my act, but I would be uncomfortable doing that in front of people). A comedian has to interact with the audience (I avoid interacting with people when I can). A comedian has to deliver his/her lines in an entertaining way (I have a monotone voice). So while writing lots and lots of (attempted) humor can be time consuming, being an actual comedian is far more difficult than writing (attempts at) humor.
*****
As I mentioned earlier, I need a humor book for my upcoming vacation, and below is a group of possible choices. I don’t want to be critical of the books I’ve sampled because I probably analyzed them too much. Since I didn’t laugh much (because I was analyzing rather than reading for enjoyment), I realized that analyzing humor takes all of the funny out of humor books.
*****
I Hate Everyone, Starting with Me by Joan Rivers- I can hear Joan River’s voice in my head when I read this silently. I don’t think I want to hear Joan River’s voice in my head when the (legal) pills start to kick in on the airplane.
Hilarity Ensues by Tucker Max- Some critics would say the title is not accurate. I started reading this and then realized that this is the third book in a trilogy. A trilogy? I didn’t know getting-drunk-humor books came in trilogies. There have been fantasy trilogies, vampire trilogies, even a bondage trilogy, and now there’s a getting-drunk-humor trilogy. Technically, I don’t think the Tucker Max trilogy is really a trilogy because in a real trilogy, if you started on the third book (like I did) you’re supposed to be confused, and I knew exactly what was going on.
Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang and a bunch of other books by/about Chelsea Handler- A late night talk show host on a cable channel has written(?) five books in (I think) seven years. Five books is more than a trilogy. I don’t think Johnny Carson wrote five books (I don’t think he even wrote a trilogy), and he was a slightly more successful talk show host than Chelsea Handler. If Johnny Carson had written a trilogy, I would probably read it. Chelsea Handler seems like a younger Joan Rivers, and if I can’t have Joan’s voice in my head when I’m in an airplane, I don’t think I can handle Chelsea’s either.
Not Taco Bell Material by Adam Corolla- This might turn out to be a good book, but it starts out with Adam’s childhood. Despite what authors might think, childhood is usually the least interesting part of a person’s life (unless something traumatic happened). I did laugh at the hippie mom and her boyfriend with some weird science fiction like name that I can’t remember, so I might come back to this book.
Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson (the Bloggess)- Jenny Lawson keeps saying how crazy she is and how much her writing needs editing. She also writes long, rambling sentences, and I have nothing against long, rambling sentences, but when I’m on an airplane and the (legal) pills have taken control of my senses, long, rambling sentences might confuse me. Plus, if a woman keeps telling me she is crazy, I stay away from her.
I Suck at Girls by Justin Halpern- I already reviewed the title and the book sample a few weeks ago. It was okay.
*****
I haven’t decided which book (or trilogy) I’m going to read yet, but I’m leaning toward the Adam Corolla book. I laughed a couple times when I read the sample. I figure that if I laughed a couple times when I was analyzing the humor, then I might enjoy it even more once I don’t care if the book is funny or not.
When a nameless reader boycotts something, it doesn’t look like this. It looks like a guy at home on his couch watching television and reading at the same time. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
*****
Are e-readers turning book lovers into e-vil readers?
Ugh. I just punched myself in the face.
Authors Richard Russo and Stephen King have announced plans to make some of their new releases unavailable to online stores (like Amazon) or on e-readers.
Richard Russo (author of Empire Falls, which won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 2002) is releasing a new book Interventions, but he is not allowing his book to be purchased online or on e-readers. Stephen King is doing the same thing with his soon(?)-to-be-released Joyland.
This means that if you want to read Interventions or Joyland you may actually have to buy (or borrow) a real book at a bookstore or library and then turn real pages. Both authors say that they are going e-bookless with these releases because of their love for actual books.
Maybe an actual book with pages is morally (too strong a word) superior to an e-version, but part of me is annoyed that Russo and King (and maybe some publishing companies) would want to limit my choices in reading format. The e-reader has completely changed the way I read. I read more in bed, on the stationary bike, in grocery store lines, at traffic lights (I’m kidding!). I can plow through more books than I used to. I can read more book samples at my convenience without purchasing them (something authors, publishers, and stores might not like).
I like having the choice of book formats. When I’m sitting in an airport, I’d rather have my e-reader than a stack of books to keep me occupied. When I’m moving from house to house, grabbing a couple tablets is way easier than packing and unpacking (or paying somebody else to pack and unpack) a couple storage rooms full of books.
I love the e-reader. In fact, I love the e-reader more than I love any single author.
Russo also says he wants to help local bookstores, and that sounds noble, but I didn’t know there were any local bookstores anymore. I live in a major U.S. city, and our local booksellers are Barnes & Noble and… and… a few used bookstores. What I consider “local” bookstores are mostly gone. I think Russo is about five to ten years too late to save local bookstores. When Empire Falls won a Pulitzer Prize for fiction, maybe he should have banned his books from Borders and Barnes &Noble. I’m guessing (with no proof) that those chains killed off more local bookstores than e-readers and Amazon have.
If Russo and Stephen King want to limit my choices, that’s fine. I can limit my choices too. If an author doesn’t want his book available electronically, that’s his/her right, but I probably won’t buy that book. To be fair, I never would have bought Russo’s new book anyway, and I haven’t bought a Stephen King book in over 20 years, so they lose nothing by alienating (too strong a word) me.
*****
Empire Falls by Richard Russo (not quite a review)
Since I’ve made some comments about Richard Russo, I decided to read his Pulitzer Prize winning novel Empire Falls (I don’t need to read any more Stephen King books). The good news is that I am reading an actual book, not the e-version, so Richard Russo would be happy. The bad news is that I checked it out from the library, so Russo gets no money from me. The other bad news is that I’m traveling soon, and Empire Falls is kind of big (about 800 pages), so I’m leaving it at home while I take my e-readers (filled with books that I’ve paid for) with me, and none of them will have Empire Falls on them.
I’ll finish Empire Falls when I get back. It’s pretty good so far.
Why is it acceptable for a woman to read Fifty Shades of Grey in public but a man has to hide when he watches a video that covers the same… uh… theme? That’s an easy question to answer. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
WARNING!! Whenever the words “porn” and ‘joke are put together (along with Fifty Shades of Grey), you know something bad is going to happen. Continue reading at your own risk.
*****
A woman walked into the bedroom and caught her husband watching an adult movie (he was just “watching,” so you don’t have to imagine anything unseemly).
“I told you not to watch that in here,” the wife said, disgusted.
“I was just flipping channels,” the husband replied. He was feeling defensive and was going through his list of excuses when he noticed the book that his wife was holding.
“You’re reading Fifty Shades of Grey,” the husband said. “What’s the difference between that and this video?”
“It’s literature,” the wife said. “It’s a book, so it’s automatically better.”
“Let’s see,” the husband said and read the novel for a few minutes. “The dialogue is cheesy. The plot is contrived. And the adult encounters in this book are more unrealistic than what I was watching. Really, there’s not much difference between my adult video and your book.”
“Oh yeah?” the wife said, turning to watch the video (the husband hadn’t bothered to turn it off).
After a few minutes she paused the video and said, “The music is cheesy. You can hear the director giving instructions to the actress. The video keeps changing angles too quickly. The close ups are of things I don’t want to see close up. And the lighting is really poor.”
The husband bit his lip, perplexed. Then he turned the video back on and stared at it for a moment.
“Wow,” he said. ‘I didn’t even know this video had music.”
Dysfunctional Literacy 