June 18, 2012

• “Get it?”

  This is a common tag line I put on the end of my jokes. I come from a long line of peeps who make obscure, arcane references, which, when understand, constitute a witticism. However, the giggle that follows such witticisms are–for the obfuscated origins–are infrequent because of inaccessibility of the humor. It’s for this reason that I inquire, “get it?” The effect is to call extra attention to the joke–good or bad. When the joke is bad, sometimes the moment takes on a comical air because the situation devolves into something absurd. When the joke is good, a little linger sometimes helps everyone out.

  However, not everyone appreciates this technique…namely, my younger brother. Here’s how it went down last night. My brother and mother were discussing possible roommates that my brother was considering when he goes back to school in the fall. He mentioned that one guy he knows had pledged to a fraternity and would likely move in with other “brothers.” At that point, I interjected, “I never really understood the fraternity system…it’s all Greek to me. (a beat) Get it? because fraternities and sororities use Greek letters?”

  For some reason, the tagline that follows my jokes irritates him. There’s no revelry in the moment. No good-natured groan at a weak pun. He doesn’t get getting it. Rather, all I “get” from him is a wholottanada…except maybe some attitude and indignation. He proceeded with a harangue about how such humor was intellectually empty and inappropriate for someone of my intelligence (my words, not his). He glared at me…I knew he was trying to make my face melt.

  I still think he’s losing it for not thinking it’s funny. But, I can’t really blame him. I know there’s something wired into little brothers that is especially sensitive to things that older brothers do. When some older-brother conduct activates that sensibility, the irritation that follows is inexplicable and senseless. For me, it infuriates me when my older brother asks me what I’m making. There’s something about the way that he peers over my shoulder while I’m slicing squash, a tomato, or what have you and asks, “Whatchya makin’?” Everything in me wants to yell “FOOD YOU MOTARD!” I can usually restrain myself. Restraint is important when you have a knife and you’re irritable. But, back to the point: it doesn’t make sense. It’s one of those sore points between siblings that have little in the way of rational support.

  All that to say, it’s funny even if you don’t get it. The humor lies in the form of the joke, not the substance. It’s a little, unanticipated (dare I say “ironic” when the joke is patently obvious?) rhetorical device that draws attention back to the joke for one moment more. The stuff of the joke is the quirky form it takes when the pun’s presence is clearly indicated. I won’t apologize if the form of the joke is sub-par…or even worse, sub”stance.”

  …get it?

  : )

  • 6:32 pm
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