To the Poorly-Told Joke My Uncle Told Me
Dear Poorly-Told Joke,
I wish I’d never heard you. In fact, as soon as I heard that three racial stereotypes were walking into a bar, I was tempted to walk away. Maybe I should have inserted earplugs; maybe I should have started screaming. In hindsight, I regret not pursuing those courses of action.
To be honest, when I heard the vulgar pun on the word “stool” midway through, I hoped that might be the final punchline. I knew that probably wasn’t the case, since it broke the three-part structure that typifies jokes of your kind. (I hope you aren’t offended that I’m generalizing about your “kind,” but I do think the generalization is apt.) Needless to say, I was disappointed when you continued.
You probably would have merely offended me had your denouement not been quite so irritating. Why did you think it appropriate to become so conversational? Were the winks and elbow nudges about the behavior of “birds” (your word, not mine) necessary? Clearly, you weren’t concerned about offending me, so why the gesture to establish common sexist assumptions?
Finally, I still maintain that the Pope would never act in such a manner.
January 26th, 2008 | 03:14 am | Rants
One Response to “To the Poorly-Told Joke My Uncle Told Me”
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January 26th, 2008 at 9:43 am
I hate those jokes, but I love this story about it.