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Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Short Story Weekly: Icing on the Baloney

 This week's Short Story Weekly post is going to be short, a "short" short as you will see actually are just as difficult as many other short stories. Also I think you will find it imperative that it is blatant,up obvious  we are getting to the end. Even still, please enjoy this "short" short known only as:
         
                                                                  Icing on the Baloney 


       Charlie Chaplin, Hitler, and the Dali Lama walk into a bar. The bartender asks each of them what they want. Charlie Chaplin orders a raspberry spritzer, Hitler orders a shot of vodka, and the Dali Lama orders a diet coke. The bartender rings them their drinks without question.  They sit quietly, finish their drinks, tip the bartender, and leave. The punch line? That tends to be what people always anticipate: the punch line. The truth is, the punch line is a rather easy one. Charlie Chaplin comes back into the bar, says he left too much a tip, Hitler comes back in, says he left to little, and the Dali Lama never returns, because all things happen for a reasons, and the deter ing of the amount of tip left was never in anyone hands anyway. Although he thought the Coke tasted a bit funny. 
     Not very funny, right? What's the point? At what part was it even funny? Was the image of the three historical figures themselves the humor, or the building? The juxtaposition of the Dali Lama there, or the strange fact that Hitler and the Dali Lama were actually quite firendly with one-another?  Where does the joke go from being a rather twisted tale to say...having the icing on the baloney? When does it make the person guffaw until they fall over in fits of pain, and hug themselves like a child pooling themselves with unfounded love? 
   Everything in-itself is a cruel joke, even the funniest jokes are cruel, because they end. They leave us wanting more, and usually the person who tells the joke never has enough of them that will keep the audience satisfied. If they're a professional joke teller, then that leaves the audience in even more distress...wanting the professional comedian to tell more until they're on their dying breath,mand still leaving that ultimate punch line for awaiting ears. Jokes are sad stories that make us slightly distracted before the real tragedy continues. 
    Do you know why the funniest people in the world stuff from such severe depression? It's not to make thesmelves happier,that's never the case. Tell a series of jokes, good-or-bad, and deep-down you know it's not the laughter of others that gives the comedian hope,mits the silence between, the anticipation between the controlled, drone laughter thwt they have set up. In that moment, they are immortal,godlike in ways not even a god could explain. The greatest comedian on earth will hold the attention, change thenpolitical/religious views of an individual faster than any pontiff with a funny hat and boy fetish. 
    Still, the question asked before...what entails a joke. Here's a final example: 
    Two boys are playing fetch, the mother of the one boy comes out and screams: Tommy! What the hell are you doing?!"
     To which Tommy replies: "Sam and I were just playing fetch, mom!"
     To winch she responds: "I don't think Steve's mother would like you making her son catch the ball in his mouth!"
     Again, is the image of a boy throwing a ball, playing fetch with another boy in place of the dog funny? Stupid? Or is it just underwhelming? Jokes are usually funnier when they aren't made out to be jokes. If a random person gives you a most believable scenario, then throws in the wrench of absurdity, especially when outside the realm of strict comedy,  does that not lead to the basis of humor, and sarcasm,the quintessential soulmate, and grandfathered prospect of humor.  Perhaps, or perhaps not, but jokes are jokes, and without the punch line...well, it's just not the same eating baloney without the right amount of icing. 


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