The Uses of Disenchantment

September 29, 2002

In a recent news story, I read about how a modern linguist is studying the nature of humor. Part of the reason behind his research - in classic “because it’s there” mode - is that there is no “full and complete theory of humour.”

His work is being financed by Saturday Night Live, Mad Magazine, and the Morning Radio DJ’s of America in the hopes that his research might prove useful.

Okay, so that last part was a joke. He’s actually supported in his research by the Leverhulme Trust. Saturday Night Live, Mad, and the Morning Radio DJ’s wouldn’t be caught within five hundred feet of humor if they could help it.

These are the jokes, people. Funny, see? Ha!

Part of the criteria for winning the Leverhulme’s support, by the way, is originality. And this project is nothing if not original.

I actually took a course in comedy while I was attending college. It was in the theatre department - not in linguistics. So I guess the information I learned there wasn’t scientific enough to be accurate. But what I did learn is that there is, in fact, a two-part “Theory of Humour.”

Part One: Walking on the knees is always good for a laugh. There is just something so comical about the image of a fully-grown adult walking on their knees that it’s almost impossible not to laugh. It’s one of the great mysteries, but people are compelled to find knee-walkers funny. If George W. Bush were to walk on his knees as he spoke, he would be even more ridiculous than usual - although it’s hard to be funny when you’re talking about nuclear annhilation.

But I digress….

Part Two: If you have to explain it, it’s not funny. This is something that we learn very quickly in humour. If you stop to explain a joke, you’ve killed any possible humour it might have had for anybody. It’s better to just roll on along and take the few chuckles you get than to get upset over the fact that nobody guffaws at your material comparing the writings of Ayn Rand to being hit over the head with a wooden cigar store indian.

This is the perverse nature of humor. Some things are funny to some people, and not to others. In the case of the research, however, Dr. Graeme Ritchie is taking his material from can’t-fail sources. Joke books and the internet.

He had better be using a study group of children. The joke book that can make anybody laugh out loud is hard to find, indeed, and internet sites are at best hit-or-miss. No, Dr. Ritchie has his work cut out for him.

But he deserves the heavy work load. Humour, he theorizes, has to be something that has a linguistic explanation. He says that it probably involves some primal urge, such as the urge to feed.

Well, it probably does. All animals have the urge to feel good, after all. And laughter is one of the best things out there that you can experience. A fit of hilarity can turn even the worst moment into one of your fondest memories.

But trying to quantify the nature of humour - while admirable - is an exercise in frustration at best. After all, you’re moving back and forth between the mania of Robin Williams, the blunt-edged satire of Al Franken, the acidic wit of Mark Twain, the rapid-fire comedy stylings of Henny Youngman (consistently voted both worst and funniest stand-up comic throughout his life), and the insult humour of Don Rickles. And while science may be able to tell us the smallest unit of matter in an atom, I defy anybody to scientifically explain why some people find Adam Sandler funny.

And in other news, ninety percent of the world’s jokebooks will be obsolete in 200 years as natural blondes become extinct….

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