This is where my fascination with creating jokes comes from... except that my jokes never really have a punch line - just a great beginning and ending and sometimes not even that. I created my first joke when I was a young girl of approximately 5 years of age. I remember being on a summer holiday with my extended family on Kangaroo Island, just off the coast of South Australia. My two cousins Chris and Dan and their Mum and Dad were in Adelaide visiting from Brisbane. Chris and Dan were naturals; they inherited a natural sense of comedic timing from their father (my Nan's brother) and they had the ability to remember countless dirty jokes that had my family in stitches. I remember feeling a little like chopped liver and for an only child this was not a common occurrence in my life. Not to have the spotlight taken away, I decided to make up my own joke, therefore trumping all their feeble and unoriginal attempts. It was one of those quintessential beach days, hot, steamy-burn-a-layer-of-skin-type Aussie experiences. I therefore used 'what was at hand' to create the ultimate king of all of jokes. Waiting for the supreme moment, after the collective laugh from Chris's latest number, I dropped it down, like a poker player with a royal flush:
"What do you get on the beach with a crab under your arm? (I didn't wait for a response) A Shark!"
Grammar was clearly not a strong point (still, struggle I, to this day ), and I instantly broke the cardinal rule of joke telling and I curled up in laughter on the beach.
Nobody laughed.
Not at first, anyway. The sight of a 5 year old in a yellow, sagging bathing suit cracking up at her own joke was enough to inspire a half-smile from my relatives, if only for pity.
Chris and Dan started first with the verbal attacks, mimicking my lame attempt at a joke. This, in turn, broke up everyone else. I was young and therefore thought I had inspired the laughter from my expertly told joke. I retaliated with another:
"What do you get on the beach with a shark under your arm?...A crab!"
Everyone then laughed at the sheer absurdity of the concept and the obvious grammatical errors. Still oblivious to their condescending giggles, I kept going, reinventing and turning the same animals into a myriad of weird and wonderful beach positions. It was a Kama Sutra joke telling experience. They just kept coming and coming in different ways, positions and formulations.
"What do you get on the beach with a shark under your arm?...A crab!"
Everyone then laughed at the sheer absurdity of the concept and the obvious grammatical errors. Still oblivious to their condescending giggles, I kept going, reinventing and turning the same animals into a myriad of weird and wonderful beach positions. It was a Kama Sutra joke telling experience. They just kept coming and coming in different ways, positions and formulations.
In the end, I had the last laugh. It is not Chris and Dan's jokes that are remembered 28 years on. It is my, 'crab, shark on a beach' joke that is reminisced and appreciated.
Which brings me to the title of my blog. No, I am not a racist joke teller. I am merely a creator of jokes that rarely make any sense to anyone except to me.
In Vancouver, it is common to be in a room with a variety of different cultures. I'm certain this happens in Australia somewhere, but in my circle of white friends, it isn't or was never common. On this particular night there were 5 different nationalities in 400 square feet. The three doing the most talking were Pavan, Tamir and Chad. I couldn't help but attempt to create a joke out of their nationalities. It went like this:
"An East Indian, Jewish man and a Japanese man walk into a bar..."(long awkward pause)...Cue Ending: "and he says 'That's not a matzo ball!'"
Minus the racial slurs, it's a great beginning, excellent punch line, with nothing in the middle. It's like eating a bagel with no filling, taking photos on an expensive SLR with no memory card.
Of course everyone laughed at the absurdity of it. That was 5 years ago, and all the people who were in that room remember the joke and still laugh to this day. But maybe that is the beauty of my joke telling; great beginning, great ending, lacking in substance and essentially, that is the joke. But, I want to curve my bad joke-telling skills. I actually want to create a middle for my (what I think) is a brilliant attempt at creating an amazing joke. I want to tell a completed joke. Why would on of those three me feel the need to exclaim, "That's not a matzoh ball!"
I am sending out an appeal to my small audience of 5: If you have a middle to the joke, post your ideas in the comment section below. All attempts will be considered! Oh, and while you are at it, please become my follower (right hand side bar)...even if you don't like what I write!
Let's create the best joke ever and cure me of telling bad jokes!
Thanks!
Minus the racial slurs, it's a great beginning, excellent punch line, with nothing in the middle. It's like eating a bagel with no filling, taking photos on an expensive SLR with no memory card.
Of course everyone laughed at the absurdity of it. That was 5 years ago, and all the people who were in that room remember the joke and still laugh to this day. But maybe that is the beauty of my joke telling; great beginning, great ending, lacking in substance and essentially, that is the joke. But, I want to curve my bad joke-telling skills. I actually want to create a middle for my (what I think) is a brilliant attempt at creating an amazing joke. I want to tell a completed joke. Why would on of those three me feel the need to exclaim, "That's not a matzoh ball!"
I am sending out an appeal to my small audience of 5: If you have a middle to the joke, post your ideas in the comment section below. All attempts will be considered! Oh, and while you are at it, please become my follower (right hand side bar)...even if you don't like what I write!
Let's create the best joke ever and cure me of telling bad jokes!
Thanks!
1 comment:
... It's just after 5pm and the three men look hungry.
The bartender sees an opportunity to make some easy money. After grabbing them a round, the bartender turns to the Indian man and says: “I bet you $10 I can make the best curry vindaloo you’ve ever had.” He goes to the back – mixes together some ketchup, malt vinegar, Worcestershire and Tabasco and then mashes up some hamburger, fries and pickles. He brings it back to the bar. The Indian man takes one wary bite and exclaims: “That’s not a curry vindaloo, no it is not!” He’s disgusted by the lingering taste, but happy to have made $10.
The bartender looks disappointed, but has a look of determination. He turns to the Japanese man and says: “I bet you $50 I can make the best sushi donburi you’ve ever had.” He goes to the back – finds the latest rat trap victim, skins and slices it into thin slices, places these atop a bed of popcorn and beernuts. He brings it to the Japanese man, who notices it looks nothing like donburi, but wanting to be polite, takes one wary bite. He reels from the taste, but smiles knowing he just made $50. He half chuckles and half gags: "That is not a donburi, bartender sen!"
The bartender is a bit deflated but there is a lingering fire in his eyes. He turns to the Jewish man and says: “I bet you $100 I can make you the best matza ball soup you’ve ever had…” He goes to the back – crushes a bag of chips, mixes it together with some milky remnants from his morning coffee forming three little balls carefully with this hands. He then pisses into a bowl, mixing it with some instant soup mix, and places the three balls carefully in the broth. He brings it to the bar. The Jewish man eyes the bowl as a strange aroma rises from the soup - he has learned from the experience of his friends and knows the soup will be terrible, but he also knows there is some easy money to be made (much more than his other friends, which makes him smile a little to himself...) The Jewish man takes the bowl and gulps down one matzo ball… trying to swallow as much of it as possible without chewing. The taste is revolting, and he manages to say “Oy veh! That’s not a matzo ball!” … But then he remembers that he’s just made $100 and grins widely at this feat.
Much to the three men's surprise, the bartender only laughs and shrugs his shoulders. He hands each man his bet gains, counting the bills out in a sing-song manner. The men are puzzled, but don't think too much of it as they finish up their round, washing the bad tastes from their mouths, and leave thinking they’ve all had a lucky day.
When he returns behind the bar, an onlooker who had witnessed the entire things asked the bartender why he was so happy after losing all three bets.
The bartender leans in and smirks. In a low voice he says: “Well, I bet my boss $1000 that I could serve piss and vinegar to the customers here and they would still leave smiling afterwards…”
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