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September 21, 2002 hazard a guffaw
Unless it is short, really short, don't tell me a joke. Please.
The typical long joke involves a lengthy, improbable premise and a structure that, by law, requires three repetitions of the premise before the punchline is reached. But I haven't the attention span to follow the story to its punchline. I never make it to the Promised Land. Listening to a lengthy joke is, for me, like listening to someone recount his dream. By the time the dreamer gets to the part where he's flying or falling off a cliff or getting stuck on a tar-like road in the path of a steamroller, I find myself longing for a derringer.
I once lived next door to a "Cajun Humorist." I took him at his word when he told me he was Cajun. After listening to his jokes, however, I concluded he wasn't a Humorist; or, if he was a Humorist, I was God. When he was wily enough to corner me, he'd start with the inevitable "did you hear the one about Boudreaux... [fill in the blanks] ?" At first, I'd say something like, "No, I sure haven't!" Within weeks of our first encounter, I was saying, "as a matter of fact, I have heard that one. Boy, have I ever heard that one! I've heard that one a lot!"
Of course, my answer did not affect what happened next. My neighbor would assume a long-joke-telling stance--feet shoulder width apart, expanded chest, hands rubbing together evil-scientist style--and launch into a virtual cluster-fuck of Boudreauxs and Thibodeauxs and how their wives did something or they ate something they weren't supposed to eat or they humped a Martian thinking it was a standard farm animal. Without fail, my mind would wander during the premise and I would not awaken from reverie until it was too late. I was lost. Some change in his voice, some alteration of his stance signaled the coming climax... but when? I'd try to guess at the punchline by searching the blatherskite's face for a clue. Nothing. Finally, I'd hazard a guffaw at some resting point in his story, hoping against hope I'd timed it right. I never did.
© 2002 by the beastmaster