Archive for the ‘Jokes’ Category

Three men walk into a bar

March 2, 2025

Neville Chamberlain, Philippe Pétain, and Vidkun Quisling walk into a coal-miners’ bar in Donetsk, in Russian-occupied Donbass, where a band of Putin-lookalikes is warming up for their evening set. The out-of-towners order three bottles of cheap vodka, one for each of them, but the bartender confesses he has only one bottle left, so they’ll have to compete for it. A singing contest, he says, and the band will play any melody you choose. The boys at the bar will vote on your singing.

Pétain went first, belting out Госуда́рственный гимн Росси́йской Федера́ции ‘State Anthem of the Russian Federation’ (lyrics from 2000, music from 1939), which got some appreciative catcalls but mostly polite applause.

Next up, Quisling performed a surprisingly seductive rendition of Подмосковные вечера ‘Moscw Nights’, a Soviet Russian patriotic song from 1956, and the guys at the bar went wild, miming lewdly what they’d do on their patriotic Moscow nights.

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May I take your coat?

February 7, 2025

A Sandra Boynton turkey cartoon from 1980, showing a  (polite) offer framed as a request in the form of a question, using the formula May I VP?:


(#1) The exchange — with the offer made by a turkey who appears to be an attendant at a women’s checkroom (see the window in the background, with women’s dresses on hangers in the room behind the window) — follows the polite service script (involving an attendant and a customer, female in this case) in the first two panels, then runs off the rails in the third panel, where an ambiguity in the verb take rears up; the turkey assumes ownership of the coat and walks off with it as their own, leaving a nonplussed coatless customer

Three things here: the turkeys (who are a long-standing thing for Sandra Boynton); the polite service script (which incorporates conventionalized versions of some very indirect speech acts); and the ambiguity of take (which provides a surprise shift from the sense appropriate to the service script to an outrageous and dumbfounding larcenous sense).

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What is figure, what is ground?

February 5, 2025

A remarkable John O’Brien cartoon in the 2/3/25 New Yorker, in which a cowboy whips his lariat in pursuit of a cow, with a stark desert landscape of mesas and buttes outlined behind them:


(#1) But wait! That line in the cartoon is both the lariat — the figure — and the outline of the landscape — the (back)ground — so that looking at the cartoon, you perceive the one, then the other, shifting from one to another: what is figure, what s ground?

It’s a percept-shifting visual illusion, exploiting an ambiguous image, in particular a figure-ground ambiguity. Here done as a joke in a cartoon, a visual parallel to what I’ve called sense-shifting pun jokes.

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The fox plays in many memes

January 22, 2025

A Mark Thompson cartoon in the 1/20/25 issue of the New Yorker offers a foxy goulash of cultural forms: cartoon memes, joke forms, story formats, and conversational routines:


(#1) The Dog in Bar cartoon meme (with a fox instead of a dog), the Walk Into Bar joke form (a fox walks into a bar,…), the Fox Eludes Hound(s) story format, and the Tell Them I’m Not Here conversational routine

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Tell a joke, go to jail

January 18, 2025

In the 1/17 Zippy strip, Z confronts a pair of clay wraiths, lifeless in body and dead in soul, and tries desperately to interject fun — levity — into the conversation; to counterpose silliness, play, and sheer joy against the dead weight of the world’s pain, suffering, and injustice; to plead for humanity over humorlessness; to advocate for delight, even in the smallest everyday things:

In English, Belgium is a funny word, odd, darkly edgy, and absurd all at once; Lewis Carroll picked the name boojum for his ridiculously dangerous creature in The Hunting of the Snark to capture this strange blend of resonances.

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Bite my punmanteau!

January 16, 2025

Continuing Bizarro‘s theme from Monday through Wednesday, today’s Waynoratu Nosferamanteau — a Wayno punmanteau based on the film title Nosferatu — examines Transylvanian dentitions:


(#1) In the tradition of Nosferattoo, Nosferachoo, and Nosferatoon, a Nosferatooth X-ray; I must say that that’s a truly splendid vampiric X-ray (if you’re puzzled by the odd symbols in the cartoon — Wayno says there are 5 in this strip — see this Page)

(I was going to wait to see what Friday and Saturday would bring us on Bizarro before posting this strip, but it brings up an issue in visual symbolism, manifested in Wayno’s adaptation of the two-serpent caduceus (surmounting a tooth) to serve as a symbol of dentistry.)

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The jim-jams

December 2, 2024

🎄 🎄 when I began this posting, it was penultimate November, and this year also Black Friday, when the anticipation of Christmas becomes a constant, unremitting dinging, accompanied by exhortations to SHOP NOW; I held to my long-standing practice of not leaving the house on Black Friday for any purpose other than retrieving my mail from the mailboxes in the condo parking lot

Meanwhile:

(#1)

A tale of the jim-jams, the most acute form of the jams (joint and muscle afflictions), a story that began on Friday 11/22 with the jams, reached utter jim-jam misery on Monday 11/25, and then slowly moderated since then; but also a tale of plans gone utterly awry (lyrics above from “Walk on the wild guardsman side”)

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When X means yes

October 9, 2024

… in one sense / use of yes: ‘yes, I select this one’. Which came up yesterday as I was ordering an Original Italian Sub from the Jersey Mike’s Subs in Mountain View CA, just south of Palo Alto (they’re a huge national chain, offering a wide range of submarine sandwiches that are, in my experience, excellent examples of their kind — and Grubhub delivers from them); it turns out that their on-line menu software involves this positive selection-X, which took me a moment to get used to, especially since I’d posted not long ago on associations of the letter X, which included the X of NO — of prohibitions, bans, and denials — but not the X of YES. Well, X is a symbol, it’s just stuff (as I say) and can accumulate any number of uses, even ones that look contradictory.

The Jersey Mike X is the X of election ballots: an alternative to a check-mark ✓ or a plus-sign + in a box or circle (or to filling in an oval) to indicate selecting an item.  In a use that was initially confusing to me, since the JM X is in contrast with the JM +, which turns out to convey something like ‘this is one of the available choices’; I eventually figured out how JM deploys X and + through a certain amount of trial-and-error fiddling with the menus. Yes, I’ll illustrate all of this in a little while.

But first, one more groaner penguin-pun joke, on the occasion of my consuming, at lunch today, the last of my birthday McVitie’s Penguin bars.

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Retreat into penguin puns and Generic Soup

October 8, 2024

This has been a remarkably awful day. When my caregiver L arrived at 10, I had no color in my face, couldn’t use my hands at all, and was suffering such extravagant joint pain I couldn’t walk. I was able to stutter out that the barometric pressure had nose-dived and I’d start to get better soon. Which happened, though I was pretty much done in by the experience. Meanwhile, the tv news brought me John Morales, veteran South Florida meteorologist, choking up in tears on-screen over the incoming bulletin that Hurricane Milton had advanced to Category 5: “This is just horrific”, he explained in despair, like nothing he had ever seen or imagined.

When I could function some, I retreated into my birthday present to myself: a McVitie’s Penguin bar, imported from the UK. Their virtue — beyond their being pleasant chocolate-covered chocolate biscuits — is that each one comes with a genuine penguin fact on the wrapper, plus a groaner penguin-pun joke, with a question on the wrapper and the answer just inside. Today’s joke to follow, below.

Then Lynne Murphy posted (from Brighton in Sussex) an excellent diversion on Facebook. She’s been writing on soups made from recipes, but announced today:

No recipe tonight, just SOUP

with a photo (also to follow below). Which inspired me to post about Generic Soup.

The rest of the day’s awfulness I’ll just skate over here, though I will admit to filling in my mail-in ballot for this fall’s US elections, as something I could focus on. It will go out in the mail tomorrow. (I don’t think that I’ve mentioned that California has six candidates for President and Vice-President: Libertarian, Green, Republican, Peace and Freedom, Democratic, American Independent.)

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Los pozoles, como el sexo

August 14, 2024

(Yes, el sexo. There will be somewhat raunchy penis-talk, in two languages, which won’t be to everyone’s taste, so you’ve been warned. But the centerpiece is the sort of dirty joke that cracks middle-schoolers up, so I don’t see the point in keeping it from kids.)

Yesterday’s adventure in all things posole (in my characteristically American English spelling) / pozole (in the usual Mexican Spanish spelling — in either case, pronounced with an [s]), with my caregiver León Hernández Alvarez (hereafter L). L and I were putting away the (extensive) leftovers from the lunch he had just cooked for us, when I remarked that I had a huge bowl of superb pozole left over from my last restaurant-food order (from El Grullense Grill in Redwood City), and L was stunned.

First, that I had even heard of pozole — Mexican hominy and meat (classically, pork) soup, traditionally red with chiles, fragrant with spices, a bit sharp with citrus juice, and crunchy with cabbage —  which he had thought of as utterly Mexican, homey comfort food that the rest of the world didn’t know about (the way Vietnamese pho was before it became fashionable). Then, still more amazing, that it was one of my favorite foods, and had been for decades (like, five decades, from when Ann Daingerfield Zwicky (who died in 1985) and I made it ourselves in Columbus OH, ’cause where in central Ohio in the 1970s would you find pozole?).

Then, to bolster these fantastical claims, I referred him to two pozole postings on this blog: the first from 2011, describing a considerable previous history with pozole; the second, from 2017, with a recipe for an eccentric, deeply non-traditional (but very tasty) variant, based on chicken (plus tomatillos and huge amounts of cilantro). At which, this exchange:

L: But it’s chicken

A: If you can do it with chicken, you can do it with pork

L [laughs out loud]: We say, el pozole como el sexo, entre más puerco mejor (‘pozole is like sex, the more pork the better’)

A [laughs out loud, asks for the joke written down]

Wonderful: a food joke, about pozoleand a dirty joke, about penises. Happy happy joy joy.

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