(A Random Post)

So a family walks into a talent agency…

I’m kicking things off with the obligatory link! Oh, the Japanese are so crazy!

*****

I watched the movie The Aristocrats the other day. It’s a documentary. I know, it sounds art-house already. But really, it’s a documentary about a joke. More specifically, the dirtiest and foulest and most obscene joke, told primarily in comic circles. As I understand it, comedians love this joke because they’re desensitized to what the urban mob considers humour. To them, the nasal passage is too slow an entry point for their narcotic. They need the hard stuff. They need a syringe of The Aristocrats.

What makes a joke funny? Why do people laugh? In my second year Ancient Humour class, I learned just enough about the subject to carelessly throw around fancy-pants terms, like schadenfreude and Kant’s incongruity theory, in order to impress chicks. And let me tell you, whenever I go to a party, I make sure to engage in a conversation that analyzes why laughter is a tool the collective subconscious utilizes to advocate social discipline. Unfortunately, my superlative knowledge doesn’t arouse in attractive ladies the need to throw down with me right beside the keg and roll around the beer-soaked kitchen floor in a Bacchian orgy of primal urges. I know. It’s hard to believe that such a tactic would fail. Life is just one big mystery.

Umm…

I think what I’m trying to say with this needlessly self-fellating anecdote is that I enjoy the downright pretentious act of deconstructing humour. It fascinates me to no end. Although I can’t say The Aristocrats led me to a higher state of enlightenment, it has a whole gaggle of comedians trying to explain why a shaggy dog story with an admittedly horrid punchline is beloved among the humour elite. And rest assured, they don’t use sophomoric college paper vernacular. They speak like human beings who are able to function normally in society.

It’s a little long at times, but it’s still worth a watch. And letting me personally discover the “funniest woman in America” (oft misquoted from Rolling Stone), Sarah Silverman? That was just icing.

Hot, sexy icing.

I beseech you to check out some of her multimedia video clips. They’re fun.

*****

I don’t know if you have heard of Facebook. Since I was hit by a bout of insomnia, I decided to do some journalistic reporting and look into what all the fuss was about. Facebook is one of those sites that you swear is a hop, step, and jump away from being a dating site. On this website, users add their university friends to lists that are proudly displayed on their profiles. And by “friends”, I mean “real life friends”. And, in some causes, “acquaintances”. And “that creepy guy you’ve never talked to before who really enjoys bragging about the 976 Facebook friends he has”. I don’t pretend to understand this Pok√©mon-esque mentality of artificially padding one’s friends list. No doubt, it has to do with the fact that the size of a user’s friends list statistically correlates with the size of his/her penis. It’s just science. You can’t argue with that.

The keen investigator that I am, I explored the mystery of Facebook in a most constructive manner: searching up a few names, scrolling through the photos of their friends, and clicking on all the hot chicks. The futility of this exercise prompted me to muse about the site itself. What is the point (of life, and to be more contextually relevant, this site)? From what I can tell, Facebook has two functions:

1) In my humble opinion, the internet’s sole purpose is to facilitate the wasting of time. Some may argue with me, citing pornography as the interweb’s primary objective. That’s fine; I invite such academic dialogue with open arms. But for the sake of argument, let’s assume that the internet’s sole purpose is to facilitate the wasting of time. Now let’s consider Facebook. This website’s sole purpose, as far as I can tell, is to facilitate the internet’s facilitation of wasting time. It’s like a Japanese vehicle. They didn’t invent the car. They just made it more efficient.

Like how that came full circle? No? Alright.

2) Facebook’s second, and arguably ultimate function, is to remind me that, even at Queen’s University, I am a loser. Message received, Facebook. Message received.

In the end, my near rock-bottom self esteem couldn’t take such cold, inhuman castigation from a nearly monochromatic site. I deactivated my account post-haste.

*****

I realize that it would be a shame to conclude a post on such a low note. Therefore, I leave you with an inspirational quip from Sarah Silverman:

When God gives you AIDS… make lemonAIDS.

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Destined to fight the world's evil, The WAMBAG endures massive battles involving impossible stunts, races on horse-pulled carriages, and the desecration of enchanting medieval castles (all done with dizzying computer graphics). Not only does the eye candy keep on coming, the tongue-in-cheek writing and deep Transylvanian accents perfect the film with a dose of dark humor.

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