They say we all grow up to be our parents, whether due to genetics or exposure through our earliest development stages. In regards to my dad’s sense of humor, it’s a battle I’ve been fighting for a long time.
He’s the kind of guy who liked jokes with punchlines like “Brad cannot live on manna alone” or “You can’t have your kayak and heat it, too”. The longer and more elaborate the the joke, the better. And, like all true punsters, he would embellish his true masterpieces a little bit more with each telling. My sisters and I found this hideously annoying. The jokes weren’t funny, and sitting through each buildup seemed more and more tedious and lengthy. It got so that if he asked someone if they knew the one about the man and the talking frog, we would shout them down – yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!
In retaliation, I created the napkin joke. It involves describing a fancy-pants napkin – lace, embroidery, fabric descriptions, its life history and experiences – anything to make it more boring and long. There’s no punchline. Really, there’s not even an ending. You just describe the napkin, in all its pointless boringness. It’s just like my dad’s pointless, boring jokes. Haha. My dad, of course, thought it was hi-LAR-iously funny.
Recently however, I find myself slowly but surely drawn towards his type of humor. I find myself enjoying the panda joke (A panda eats shoots and leaves vs. A panda eats, shoots, and leaves). True, this is grammar humor, so it’s a little classy, kinda. But it’s also dangerously punny. What am I becoming? How do I stop myself?
I read this article about an old penguin and his suit and wanted to comment about it. A penguin in a wetsuit, how cute! However, I was stumped at the title. I kept coming up with these horrible titles, like ‘Jackass gets new suit’. I know it’s a tic of inheritance from my dad. Sigh. I guess I’m doomed to questionable humor. It’s in my DNA.