Three weeks into the semester, I think I can label myself as far as the comedy that I enjoy. I like witty worded and especially humorously performed pieces, mostly modern. The Word is King however. I love wordplay. I love the momentary flash of an ironic juxaposition or situation that can be commented upon, whether my own or someone else's. I love the dumb things that people do in the moment too, but those cannot be performed on stage. Those just happen. You have to be there. It's just one of those stories that you retell and it loses all of its life. Real life slapstick is the only kind for me, usually the unintentional kind and yes I laugh at myself often for this type of thing. It's those occassionally spacy, sometimes naive, or incredibly klutzy people that make the world laugh at their friends, or at least it's that way for me.
Sometimes I like to see just how naive people can be. It makes those tall tale stories even better. It is not usually the story itself that makes me laugh, but the naive listeners belief in its supposed truth. My thought process usually goes like this, "I don't want to smirk too much so that I give the joke away. O gosh I can't hold it in any more. I need to leave the room. I can't believe they believe this. I'm pretty naive, but not that much." In this way, the whole superiority thing does kick in a bit, but I feel I have paid my dues in this department. We all do. At some point each of us believes something outlandish and I have had my share.
The point I want to make however is that for some humorous works, you just need to be there. This is why I don't think that Mark Twain's Jumping Frog works. It is lifeless on a piece of paper (I have read it before too and had a similar reaction). Maybe I don't have a vivid picture mind from word to image, but it's just not that funny to me. If this happened to a friend of mine and he was actually relating it, it might be funnier. The funniest would be if I was the one leading the poor man on the wild goose chase and recieving the letter. I like to pull pranks and honestly, this one is more for the laughter of the pranker (and hopefully in some small way for the one being pranked if they are a good sport) than anyone else listening.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Modest Proposal
Swift's Modest Proposal lulls us into a sense of security of the truth and sincerity of the article if we aren't aware of what we are reading. The first time I read this piece, I was a sophomore in high school and while I realized how abhorrent eating babies was, on a logical level, a logos level, this argument makes perfect sense. I was very into the whole thinking logically not emotionally movement of sorts. This particular piece however emblazons upons one's mind forever how utterly unappealing and devoid of real power a completely logical, but emotionally devoid or abhorrent argument is.
My teacher back then, sophomore year in high school, did not warn us that this was a piece of satire, that Swift was not advocating eating babies as a response to overwhelming poverty, but rather was advocating the opposite, namely finding a good way to keep these children alive and thriving. Of course, an intelligent person deduces after that first fateful paragraph on the second full page (in our edition in Laughing Matters) where he suggests eating babies. I made a double take when I read this. First, I wanted to make sure I read it right. Second, I wanted to make sure he was not serious (because as we all know there are a lot of loons out there). Taking into account that this was Swift however, whom I knew to have written Gullivers Travels and did not have any mental illness or extreme radicalist ideas of such that I knew of, I deduced that no, he was not really suggesting eating babies.
What he was suggesting, as a subsidary to his main argument (a very serious argument about how poverty is treated) is that both pathos, ethos, and logos must be considered in an argument. An argument out of wack with one or two of these, as the baby eating argument is, is lacking an essential persuasiveness. It is comical even that someone would suggest something like this because it is so completely out of line with the standards of ethos and pathos, although, as I have mentioned, this particular argument is completely logical. The comicness of the article undercuts the prima facsia argument (i.e. eating babies) and adds to the power of the opposing argument. The things that we are told not to do, then in turn seem to be the best ones to do. This is the power that humor has in an argument.
My teacher back then, sophomore year in high school, did not warn us that this was a piece of satire, that Swift was not advocating eating babies as a response to overwhelming poverty, but rather was advocating the opposite, namely finding a good way to keep these children alive and thriving. Of course, an intelligent person deduces after that first fateful paragraph on the second full page (in our edition in Laughing Matters) where he suggests eating babies. I made a double take when I read this. First, I wanted to make sure I read it right. Second, I wanted to make sure he was not serious (because as we all know there are a lot of loons out there). Taking into account that this was Swift however, whom I knew to have written Gullivers Travels and did not have any mental illness or extreme radicalist ideas of such that I knew of, I deduced that no, he was not really suggesting eating babies.
What he was suggesting, as a subsidary to his main argument (a very serious argument about how poverty is treated) is that both pathos, ethos, and logos must be considered in an argument. An argument out of wack with one or two of these, as the baby eating argument is, is lacking an essential persuasiveness. It is comical even that someone would suggest something like this because it is so completely out of line with the standards of ethos and pathos, although, as I have mentioned, this particular argument is completely logical. The comicness of the article undercuts the prima facsia argument (i.e. eating babies) and adds to the power of the opposing argument. The things that we are told not to do, then in turn seem to be the best ones to do. This is the power that humor has in an argument.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Yo Mama and Aristotle
Although in my last blog I decided to write about an exception to what so many philosophers think is a rule about humor, I want to write today about that idea and its modern day truth. Even though there are exceptions, in modern day humor, the rule seems to not have changed much: Superiority of the laugher and joker in relation to the but of the joke remains a great part of humor.
I want to take a very modern popular example to prove my point. At times this show has been the most popular show on American television: American Idol. While this show is predominately not about humor (it is supposed to be about singing presumably), it does have its humorous moments (which is almost a rule today for any show, even for the most serious, dramatic shows).
Probably the funniest time is the tryouts; I think all of us viewers can agree. This is the time when we as viewers see the bad, the good and the ugly. The terrible singers, hopelessly disillusioned ones, incredibly poorly dressed ones, and the borderline mentally insane ones all come out for the initial trials, and this is about half of the show during the first weeks when the judges have not yet weeded out the bad and so-so and chosen the good. The reason why we watch these things is A) to see some talented singers and B) to see some really horrible ones and laugh.
Depending on what kind of viewer you are, one priority may come before the other. For example, a good friend of mine has explained to me a few times why she only likes watching the first few weeks: they are funny and after that the humor factor goes way down. What would your mother think?! What would Aristotle think?! You are making fun of people remember. You are assuming your superiority over another person and this superiority is not like some of the philosophers say, feigned, as it should be and as is acceptable. A feigned superiority is passing. We all do stupid things and we are all good humored and laugh at ourselves, but when it is not possible, when the true equality is garbled, it is not fair, and I think according to your mother and Aristotle, it is not for the greater good.
Here is a specific example on American Idol: a lady who tries out comes into the studio with papers on anatomy of singing and her own songs. From the way that she acts I think it is easy to notice two things: there is a very good chance that she is either mentally unsound or mentally challenged. The vast majority of us are not like her in these ways, and yet still many of us laugh.
Aristotle says that we must strive for a golden mean in all areas of life and humor is no different. By laughing at a woman like this I think we stray from that golden mean. It is not acceptable, even if the woman is on the TV and cannot see you or hear you, to laugh at something like that.
I want to take a very modern popular example to prove my point. At times this show has been the most popular show on American television: American Idol. While this show is predominately not about humor (it is supposed to be about singing presumably), it does have its humorous moments (which is almost a rule today for any show, even for the most serious, dramatic shows).
Probably the funniest time is the tryouts; I think all of us viewers can agree. This is the time when we as viewers see the bad, the good and the ugly. The terrible singers, hopelessly disillusioned ones, incredibly poorly dressed ones, and the borderline mentally insane ones all come out for the initial trials, and this is about half of the show during the first weeks when the judges have not yet weeded out the bad and so-so and chosen the good. The reason why we watch these things is A) to see some talented singers and B) to see some really horrible ones and laugh.
Depending on what kind of viewer you are, one priority may come before the other. For example, a good friend of mine has explained to me a few times why she only likes watching the first few weeks: they are funny and after that the humor factor goes way down. What would your mother think?! What would Aristotle think?! You are making fun of people remember. You are assuming your superiority over another person and this superiority is not like some of the philosophers say, feigned, as it should be and as is acceptable. A feigned superiority is passing. We all do stupid things and we are all good humored and laugh at ourselves, but when it is not possible, when the true equality is garbled, it is not fair, and I think according to your mother and Aristotle, it is not for the greater good.
Here is a specific example on American Idol: a lady who tries out comes into the studio with papers on anatomy of singing and her own songs. From the way that she acts I think it is easy to notice two things: there is a very good chance that she is either mentally unsound or mentally challenged. The vast majority of us are not like her in these ways, and yet still many of us laugh.
Aristotle says that we must strive for a golden mean in all areas of life and humor is no different. By laughing at a woman like this I think we stray from that golden mean. It is not acceptable, even if the woman is on the TV and cannot see you or hear you, to laugh at something like that.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Superiority and Inferiority in Humor: What’s Superior about the Boo-berry Poptart Joke?
Most of the humor analysts that are commonly known for works about rhetoric claim that jokes are about the superiority of the teller or the laugher in contrast to the relative inferiority of the person the joke is on. These authors, Aristotle, Hobbes, and Freud to name a few, do try to define a difference between humor and other similar ideas like wit and comic-ness by various subtleties, however I think I have an example of funniness that does not fit any of these models. I believe that my example is also humorous, but you do not have to agree with that in order to ponder where a joke or funniness like this fits in.
So what is the joke? It is one that you hear probably every year at Halloween time if you open up your doors to the little people in costumes. It was funny the first time, but probably isn’t now. It is the Boo-berry Poptart Joke. The scene: A small child walks up to your door in a ghost costume, probably below the age of 8, because after that the joke is not as cute. The child says, “Trick or Treat! Do you want to hear a joke?” and you say, “Why yes, tell me your joke” in a humored manor. “What kind of Poptart do ghosts eat?” the small child asks. “I don’t know. What?” you might ask. “Boo-berry!” the child says gleefully.
Now one could argue that A) this joke is not funny at all. I concede that to a good deal of people, this is not funny or humorous or what-have-you. However, I know from personal experience that to some people it is incredibly humorous, mostly to old folks who love little kids and have never heard the joke before. After hearing it a thousand times I also concede that for most people, it is no longer funny. However this is true with all humorous things.
One could also argue that this has to do with delivery. The little child is cute and might say it in a humorous manner. I concede to that the humorousness has something to do with delivery, but I maintain that it is not the only thing that makes the joke humorous. This is the same with many humorous jokes. Unlike Freud who might say that we belittle the children by humoring them (instead of the other way around). In other words, we laugh at their jokes not because they are humorous to us, but because we are superior to them and will be nice enough to humor them. However, again, from my experience that is only part of the equation, and for some people, it is not even part of the equation. For example, my grandmother could not stop talking about how funny the joke was the first time she heard it, and no, she did not hear it from me. Her friends were the same way.
In conclusion, I believe that I have proven Aristotle, Hobbes, Freud and a number of influential rhetorical and analytical writers wrong in their assumption that humor necessarily. I am superior (whoops, did I say that?). Not all humor has to do with superiority and inferiority. What could possibly be inferior or superior about a boo-berry Poptart joke? Although much humor does deal with inferiority and superiority (namely when there is an object or but of the joke which of course is not present in the boo-berry joke), not all of it does.
So what is the joke? It is one that you hear probably every year at Halloween time if you open up your doors to the little people in costumes. It was funny the first time, but probably isn’t now. It is the Boo-berry Poptart Joke. The scene: A small child walks up to your door in a ghost costume, probably below the age of 8, because after that the joke is not as cute. The child says, “Trick or Treat! Do you want to hear a joke?” and you say, “Why yes, tell me your joke” in a humored manor. “What kind of Poptart do ghosts eat?” the small child asks. “I don’t know. What?” you might ask. “Boo-berry!” the child says gleefully.
Now one could argue that A) this joke is not funny at all. I concede that to a good deal of people, this is not funny or humorous or what-have-you. However, I know from personal experience that to some people it is incredibly humorous, mostly to old folks who love little kids and have never heard the joke before. After hearing it a thousand times I also concede that for most people, it is no longer funny. However this is true with all humorous things.
One could also argue that this has to do with delivery. The little child is cute and might say it in a humorous manner. I concede to that the humorousness has something to do with delivery, but I maintain that it is not the only thing that makes the joke humorous. This is the same with many humorous jokes. Unlike Freud who might say that we belittle the children by humoring them (instead of the other way around). In other words, we laugh at their jokes not because they are humorous to us, but because we are superior to them and will be nice enough to humor them. However, again, from my experience that is only part of the equation, and for some people, it is not even part of the equation. For example, my grandmother could not stop talking about how funny the joke was the first time she heard it, and no, she did not hear it from me. Her friends were the same way.
In conclusion, I believe that I have proven Aristotle, Hobbes, Freud and a number of influential rhetorical and analytical writers wrong in their assumption that humor necessarily. I am superior (whoops, did I say that?). Not all humor has to do with superiority and inferiority. What could possibly be inferior or superior about a boo-berry Poptart joke? Although much humor does deal with inferiority and superiority (namely when there is an object or but of the joke which of course is not present in the boo-berry joke), not all of it does.
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