More humor from Mr. Boy

What shotgun do priests use?

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The M-26 MASS.

He also observes:

Bishops like to wield the . . . M7 Priest.

The tank best used for claiming the Promised Land is the . . . M1 Abrams.

And after 40 years in the desert, you might also want the . . . Jericho 941.

In case of Saracens, consider the . . . F-8 Crusader.

And if under fire from Demons or Hellcats, you might ask for assistance from the . . . Blue Angels and VCF-13 Saints.

Milkshakes all around . . .

. . . is what we get if I pull a would-have-drowned child out of the pool, and she gets an all-clear on the lung check afterwards.  Yay!  A certain mother needs to work off a  little adrenaline now . . .

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In the meantime, back-to-back interesting posts by Eric Sammons:

Just say ‘no’.  Hands down this is my number one spiritual problem (in addition to all the others).  And of course he posts these timely words just when I’m trying to goof off on the internet to unwind a little, heh.

And then, 100 things? I’ll consider it, if I get to count all my books as a single item.  Otherwise, I guess it’s 99 books and a toothbrush?  I think everything else maybe I could borrow from someone.

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Funny story about self-denial and materialism: SuperHusband and I are in the market for a new motor vehicle.  Exact nature TBD, but we’re leaning towards a commuter-mobil.  There’s about $5K difference between the car he really wants, and a less-expensive, more practical car that would (we think – haven’t test-driven yet) do everything we’d expect from the dream car.   Poor guy, he’s checking out vehicles on the internet last night, and his wife leans over and says, “$5k would build a lot of houses in Haiti.”

Or, part of a hospital?  Investigate this one, if you are looking for a worthwhile cause.  No personal connection on my part, so do your own due diligence.

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Meanwhile, a funny story from the child-not-drowning incident:

So I’m watching my preschooler from the sidelines at my local community pool, because I am one of those mothers who lifeguards her own children even when there is one lifeguard on duty and three others giving swim lessons nearby, and I see Squeaky go under.  So I walk in and pull her out — real easy, because we’re in the shallow end, and she is right next to the wide concrete staircase so it’s just step in, pick up child.  Hurray.

[Yes, my child was literally one step from where she could have stood up and been fine.  But she stepped down to where it was just over her head, panicked, and didn’t think “oh, just walk up the stairs”.]

I carry her up out of the water, do my check to make sure she’s okay (she is), and I’m standing there with her swim instructor from the previous hour’s lessons,  who had come over both because she saw the incident and because she had some papers to give me.  Then the lifeguard on duty looks over in our direction; the whole incident couldn’t have lasted ten seconds, probably more like three or five — and he didn’t see it happen.

[No fault here: there was nothing for him to hear – neither my daughter nor I made any noise through all this — and this one guy has an entire pool of swimmers to watch.  No one can physically keep their eyes on that much space and that many people simultaneously.  The best a lifeguard can do is scan continuously, and hope he sees what he needs to see when he needs to see it.]

So the poor guy sees me there standing soaking wet in my street clothes, realizes something is amiss, and comes over to speak to me.  And his brain has not connected all dots yet, so it falters on the what-happened-here process:   He kind of hestitates, then says, “Um, we’re supposed to wear swimming attire in the pool.”

I assured him I don’t *usually* swim in leather shoes.

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Have a good week.  And no combox pile-on about my lifeguard.

Someone remind me to add Catholic Free Shipping to the sidebar.  And where to put it — humor?  General Catholic? Reputable Vendors?  Thanks to the Ironic Catholic for pointing out vocabulary entries such as this one:

“Mandatum”

What I thought it meant: A survey or questionnaire that by law one is required to truthfully complete, as the census.

When Father Rick saw the part in the mandatum inquiring how many children he had, he thought he ought to write down the two thousand people he  serves in his parish.

What it really means: The new commandment Jesus left with the Twelve Apostles at the Last Supper, to love one another as Jesus loved them (John 13:34-35); it also refers to the priests’ washing of his parishioners’ feet during Holy Thursday Mass.

If it were possible for every single one of his flock to be honored during the mandatum, Father Rick would have washed each foot with great humility.

*****

Meanwhile, speaking of reputable Catholic vendors, my new Catholic Company review book is Sex Au Naturel by Patrick Coffin.  So far so good, though I’m afraid it is not nearly as racy as Dark Night of the Soul.  Or, say, the Bible.   On the other hand, it seems to fill a different need.  And plus, married ladies should be made to read something a little tamer every now and then.

In other catholic vendor news, I’m sorry to see that Requiem Press is closing.  Would some technically-knowledgeable person please beg Jim Curley to make the titles available via e-book going forward?  Sad to see good books going out of print.

Blog Maintenance

Added a couple links:

The Lewis Crusade is written by John C. Hathaway, who can transform wading-pool duty at a parish picnic into an intellectual feast for the busy catholic brain.  Great guy who has a thing or two to say to you.

Uncommon Adornments & Phos Hilarion are the twin businesses of jewelry-maker Ann Rinderknecht Miko.  Very nice work, take a look.   (And if  John’s not available, she’s right up there in the entertaining-conversation department.)

Thanks to Julie at Happy Catholic for pointing readers to Unhappy Hipsters.  I actually like modern architecture, and have no particular bias against literary fiction, either — but it’s still pretty funny.  Adult humor in the proper sense of the word — parody it takes an adult to appreciate.

Just so you know, I’ve been sneaking in other links here and there and forgetting to tell you.  So if you are a feed-reader, you might want to click on the blog and peruse, one of these days when you are hard-up for reading material.

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Speaking of reading material, I just finished Saint of the Day.  So expect a review soon.  (And yes, it did take me a mighty long time to finish it.  But hey, I read a year’s worth of saints in less than one year. How many years of saints have you read this winter?  Hmmn?  People smarter than me don’t answer that.)

Humor: How to Identify

In my goofing off I noticed a bit of discussion today about whether this weekend’s SNL was funny or  offensive.  Haven’t seen the episode, and have other more important internet laziness calling my attentions, so I won’t.  [Why would I want to watch something that a number of very sensible people tell me is objectionable, anyway?  When I could be reading more back-issues of Dr. Boli?  Pretty easy decision for me.]

All the same, as parents of an eight-year-old boy, the SuperHusband and I have had many opportunities to reflect on what does and does not constitute humor.  A few thoughts, not very well edited because my goofing-off time is coming to an end, and I want to just get the ideas out there today.  But here for you to ponder however confusedly, while I go make dinner and clean the house:

Humor is based on comparison. The comparison can come in many forms, but it is always there.  In a pun, it the similarity in sound between two words or phrases, combined with an apropos meaning given the context of the joke. (Why is the baker cruel? Because he whips the cream and beats the eggs.)  In slapstick humor, it is a comparison between what should have happened (walked through the door unharmed) and what did happen (a bucket of water fell on my head).   In satire, the comparison is built by taking what we know to be true about a person, and applying it in an extreme (play Sarah Palin as if she’s even flightier-sounding than she really is) or out of context (Bob Dole runs a daycare).

–> In order to understand a joke, one must be able to recognize the comparison.  This is why, say, philosophy jokes have a very limited audience.  They may be hilarious, but few audiences have the knowledge required in order to catch the comparison on which they hinge.  Usually, though, even when the audience doesn’t ‘get’ a joke (that would be me, listening to my peers tell philosophy jokes), they are merely puzzled, not offended.

So what distinguishes between a joke that is truly offensive, and one that really was funny, but the audience had no sense of humor?

Sore topics aren’t funny when the joke is told by the guilty party to the offended partyEven if they are otherwise fair game. Double standard? No.  It’s a violation of the comparison rule.  It isn’t a joke if it is really happening, or likely to happen.

This poses a real problem for the modern satirist, as the things we joke about now seem to come true dreadfully quickly.  To review real quickly as we develop our main point, a couple of examples of possibly funny versus not funny, based not on teller, but on the premise that it isn’t a comparison if it is the literal truth:

Possibly funny: The CIA is going to subject captured enemy combatants  to Wheelock’s Latin in order to get them talk.    Not funny: ‘Jokes’ about actually torturing people, that are based on real torturers committing their real crimes on their real victims.

Possibly funny: Jokes about other species engaging in suicide.  Not funny: Most jokes about humans engaging in suicide.  (This used to be possibly funny, because it wasn’t true.  But now that large segments of the population have decided that suicide is acceptable — it isn’t — there are very few suicide jokes left.  None come to mind.  On the other hand, you can now joke about judges who declare people must stay alive until their natural death, since that is, sadly, now parody.  Hopefully only temporarily.)

So, getting back to our main issue: if I tell my eight-year-old, “Don’t touch my chocolate or I’m selling you to the salt mines”, it’s humor.  He knows I would never, ever, sell him to the salt mines.   But if I say, “Or no dessert for you,” it is not humor.  He knows that missing out on dessert is a very real possibility, based on his parents’ past behavior.

–> For this reason, parents who do sell their children to the salt mines have fewer humor options than average.  Virtue has its rewards.  Which leads to the next point:

Humor Depends on the Teller’s Credentials In most circles, one can safely tell accountant jokes, because there is very little anti-accountant persecution.  It is generally assumed the joke is well-meant poking of fun.  (Even though, in fact, most accountant jokes fall flat.  Not because accountants aren’t a lively bunch, full of interesting fodder for the satirist, but because the general public is woefully ignorant of the true esprit of the accountant, and tends to rely on the same tired and shallow assumptions decade in and decade out.  But lame humor is not necessarily offensive.  We’ll chuckle politely for you, or at least kind of twitch the lip a little to acknowledge you spoke.)

In contrast, when a group of people is subject to discrimination, hate, condescension, or other meanness in the wider society, it becomes necessary for the joke-teller to prove beyond all doubt that no derision is meant by the joke.  If this criteria can’t be meant, the joke is probably going to be received as offensive.  (This is a shame, because it deprives many innocent people of perfectly good humor.  But it is the reality all the same — our sins affect others more than we realize.)  So, for example, among southerners, humor about the idiosyncrasies of southern life is quite funny.  Told by a southerner to others? Still funny.  But told by damn Yankees people not from the south, the same jokes can be received as offensive, for there is a certain amount of cultural history that can leave one wondering whether the joke is meant as true humor, or as a veiled insult.

–> SNL treaded on dangerous ground, because they are part of a group known as the “mainstream media”.  And the mainstream media is notorious for producing all kinds of garbage that is offensive to people with disabilities (and thus to anyone with the ability to detect nonsense).  Therefore, if SNL meant to be genuinely funny, it had to prove beyond all doubt that it was not engaging in the same obnoxious blather that its colleagues churn out so regularly.

This phenomenon leads to a general rule, that one can only make fun of oneself and one’s own group.  This rule is not, however, strictly accurate. Both for the reason that a) it is possible to insult oneself and that b) it is possible to be a person of goodwill and good sense towards others.  So, even southern accountants can tell offensive southern accountant jokes (but not on this blog, I hope), and even non-southern, non-accountants can tell enjoyable southern accountant jokes.  (Don’t expect to see a compendium of such jokes published any time soon, however.)

All that said, certain groups of people have experienced such shoddy treatment at the hands of others that their sense of humor has been injured.   As it is not especially difficult to identify shoddy treatment present or past, it behooves others to be mindful of the lingering pain, and politely go find some other topic for one’s jokes.  Humor is part of the healing process, but humor inflicted from without is generally not the healing type.

What is especially egregious about the SNL fiasco?  Chances are the SNL writers didn’t even realize they were dealing with an easily-offended audience –> which is to say, with a group of people who has consistently received ill-treatment at the hands of wider society.

On the one hand, it’s a bizarre problem, given that eugenics movement and the ensuing marginalization of people with disabilities has been around for nearly a century and half now — plenty of time for an SNL writer to develop an awareness of the problem.  (And even, perhaps, to care enough about it to write some good satire on the topic.)  On the other hand, it proves the point: the whole complaint is that people with disabilities are marginalized in our society.   To the point that SNL doesn’t even know you’re there.  Let alone that you are mighty touchy just now.

–> Good humor requires you to know your topic.  Because humor depends on the comparison, an inaccurate comparison makes for poor humor.  Listen to a four-year-old try to tell a riddle. Very painful.  Poor child doesn’t quite know what a pun is yet, and therefore just tries for any random silly words that come to mind.  (Four-year-olds, on the other hand, understand slapstick quite well.)  And this same knowledge that makes for good humor is also what keeps you from being offensive, because you will know that you are dealing with a potentially sore topic.  The SNL writers offended because they tread on ground they didn’t know.

The good news is, this is knowable ground.  There are so many directions SNL could have taken the Paterson joke that would have been genuinely funny.  Funny in a way that resonated with the subject audience, and brought reality to tlhe attention of the general public.   Which is what good humor does.

Dr. Boli’s Celebrated Magazine

Thanks to Happy Catholic for directing readers here.  Can’t believe I’ve been missing out all this time — not to worry, I’m increasingly caught up.  (With my internet reading.  Pile of papers under the desk is as unfiled as ever.)

 

Readers of this blog may also enjoy Dr. Boli’s links to his alter-ego’s non-humor blogs.  Patristics, Pittsburgh, The Grail Code, things like that.

A little satire for the season.

(FYI for curious readers, I’m an undecided voter at this time. That is, I of course cannot vote for Obama, no way no how until the democrats give up the abortion platform. But I’m not much of a Republican, either. I want to like the GOP, but it never seems to work out. As if puzzling out economic or environmental issues weren’t tricky enough, that whole war-n-torture thing just did me in.)