The Joke's On Me

Since Al Gore invented the internet, and, I think, email, joke-telling skills have fallen by the wayside. Jokes aren't told anymore, they're forwarded.

"This is the funniest thing ever!!!"

"This one is too CUTE!"

"You know I don't usually forward these, but this one is a keeper!"

"SendMoneytoPrimeMinisterNigeriaViagraPENISenlargement"

Oh wait--that last one was just spam.

I've never been a particularly great joke teller--I usually screw up the punchline, or the beginning, or the middle. There are too many nuances in a joke that I sometimes miss, and when I do tell one successfully, I'm so proud of myself I usually end up explaining the joke over again, which only ruins my success. Yes, we GET it.

However, I seem to have passed some recessive joke-telling gene onto my son, because Captain Picklepants has discovered The Art of the Joke.

It began about 6 months ago. There's a lawn machinery store we pass all the time that has a marquee out front, and they write a joke on one side and the punchline on the other. So unless you crane your neck and nearly cause an accident (which I have done) you have to read the punchline on the way home. The first joke CP discovered follows:

"What goes ooooooooooooo?"

"A cow with no lips."

Once he got the joke, he laughed for about 3 days. Then, he proceeded to retell the joke to be a sheep with no lips ("AAAAAAA") a dog with no lips ("OOF OOF OOF") and my favorite, a chicken with no lips ("AWK AWK AWK"). I tried explaining chickens have no lips, but it didn't matter--he still loves the joke.

Then came the banana/orange joke. He takes it a little too far, though, he asks the joke about 7 times.

"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Banana." "Banana who?"
"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Banana." "Banana who?"
"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Banana." "Banana who?" (aren't you supposed to say orange now?)
"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Banana." "Banana who?"
"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Banana." "Banana who?" (okay, really, i think you're supposed to say orange now.)
"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Banana." "Banana who?"
"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Banana." "Banana who?" (Seriously? I think you're supposed to say orange now.)
"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Banana." "Banana who?"
"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Orange." "Orange who?" "ORANGE YOU GLAD I DIDN'T SAY BANANA??????? HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!"

You have no idea.

Then came summer. And heat. And popsicles. And...popsicle sticks with jokes.

He can't even wait to finish the whole popsicle before he gives it to you to read, and if he's already heard it (a likely possibility--he's had about 7,000 popsicles this summer and there are only 17 jokes) he is so disappointed.

Then he makes up his own jokes.

"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Hummingbird! AH HA HA HA HA!!!"

And we're hysterical because it's not so much the punchline (what punchline?) as the delivery.

So, he will continue to tell better and better jokes, and no matter what, we will always laugh. He has the best facial expression when he's telling it, too. This sort of innocent/smothered grin/on the verge of hysteria kind of thing.

So here's a good one...what's the difference between...oh wait, no. Hold on. How can you tell that a...what's that bird with the feathers...no, wait that was the other one.

I'll go ask my son how it goes and get back to you.