I was taught in stand up comedian school to always start with a joke that everybody in the audience can relate to – plenty of time to alienate people later. So…uhh…how about that World War Three? Wasn’t it spectacular when the world blew up like that? Better than any Matrix movie, that’s for su – what? You missed that? But – oh, shit! Stand up rule Number 27: avoid topical humour like the plague! And, speaking of The Plague…
Liquor? I hardly know her!
No. Let me start again. Are there any Hungarian Olympic snot shooting champions in the audience? You see, there was once this – what? You are? Really? Sixty-two yards, five inches? Oh, well, but, I…I don’t have any bits about Hungarian Olympic snot shooting champions. Tell me: is Olympic snot shooting really all that different if you’re from Hungary?
When you were in Maine, you drove through Bangor? I hardly know her!
You know what’s weird? Masturbation. Really. I mean…uhh…okay, actually, it’s not that weird. It can be kind of fun, actually, if you don’t lose your grip on the tongs. Oh, shit! I’m killing my attitude, here. Okay…umm…okay. You know what’s weird about masturbation? When my hand tells me, “Not tonight, darling, I have a blister.” And, you just know that the next time we go out for dinner the hand is going to order the most expensive item on the menu.
You want me to be on the baseball team because you heard I was a great catcher? I hardly know her!
But, seriously, a priest, a rabbi and a Buddhist monk are skydiving. After they jump out of the plane, the priest asks, “Why do I always have to be the butt of the joke?”
The rabbi asks: “What makes you think you’re always the butt of the joke?”
“Because,” the priest explains, “everybody knows that the third religious figure in these jokes is the one who gets the best lines.”
After a moment, the rabbi frowns and turns towards the Buddhist monk. “He’s right. The third person in the joke always gets the best lines. Why is that?”
The monk considers this question. He thinks about the use of stereotypes in religious humour – does the order ultimately make a difference? If the order was different, would it undermine the punchline? And, why three religious figures? The joke would have been just as funny with an accountant, a lawyer and an auto mechanic – or, would it?
“I think -” the Buddhist monk began. Then, because they were so absorbed in the debate that they had neglected to open their parachutes, the three men fell to the ground with a loud and bloody SPLAT.
So, a priest, a rabbi and a Buddhist monk arrive in heaven. The priest asks, “Why do I always have to be the butt of the joke?”
You say you wanted stucco and they gave you alabaster? I hardly know her!
In the 1960s, George Carlin electrified audiences with a comic routine about seven words you were not allowed to say on television. Times change, of course, so I would like to update that classic routine for the new millennium. I call this: the zero words you cannot say on television.
…
Cable networks – what can I tell you?
Erector set? I hardly know her set!
I walked past a homeless man on the street; he held out his hand and asked for some change, saying, “I haven’t had a bite in five days.”
I nodded sympathetically and responded, “Yes, the plight of homeless people can be dire.”
The homeless man looked around and then, in a lower voice, said, “That wasn’t a joke.”
“No,” I agreed, “Homelessness is not a laughing matter.”
The homeless man looked not unlike a deer caught in especially bright headlights. “But, but, but,” he sputtered, “the only reason I’m in your comedy routine is to be the butt of a joke. If you don’t make a joke at my expense, you render my existence utterly without meaning.”
So, I bit him.
Humour? I hardly know her!
Thank you. Thank you very much. My name is Shecky Derrida. I’ll be playing the Neville in the Catskills the last week of August, then you can catch my act at the Sorbonne starting in September. Thank you. Thank you so very much.