I Try to Kid, But I (Sometimes) Have a Point

For better or for worse, I seem to leave a distinct impression on people, although I can’t tell whether the impression I leave is good or bad.  One week into my foray into law school at the particularly liberal Rutgers of Newark, people started coming up to me and saying, “So you’re the new conservative, huh?”  I had barely met anyone at that point.

Although I’m proud of my conservatism, I’d like to think that I leave my mark less for my politics and more for my humor, especially if it’s at my own expense.  It has served me well over the years, allowing me to be close friends with liberal people because I don’t take my wisdom and their misguided principles too seriously.

The humor also lightens up the mood in an otherwise serious atmospheres, like a collegiate classroom.

My freshman year, I was in this great seminar where we studied Greek traditions and other liberal arts stuff.  I emphasize the importance of a liberal arts education now, but back then I had little appreciation.  My respect and admiration for the traditional Boston College education grew only after I got my degree–far too late to take full advantage of it when it was offered to me.  So when I was sitting in the class back when I was a young fool, I tried my best to bring some humour into a class which I considered to be quite a bore.

Because the class was a seminar, student participation drove the class.  Among the great classmates were many who could be counted on to make invaluable contributions.   I, on the other hand, could be counted on to make a valuable contribution about half the time.  The other half was to just get a laugh.  But often, I tried to do both at once.

One time, the professor broke the class up into small groups to discuss how we should handle the Taliban regime in Afghanistan destroying Buddhist temples dating back a thousand years.  I proposed a modest suggestion: invasion.  People took it as Joe just being Joe, and yes, I was, but I also wanted to make an important point: a regime that destroys history and culture needs to be taken out.

I obviously couldn’t have foreseen what would happen less than a year later, but I knew even back then that Communists in Russia and China and the Fascists in Germany and Japan shared one common thread despite their polar opposite political ideology:  they burned books.  I’m an uncivilized savage, but I don’t burn what I don’t understand.  The Taliban’s destruction of the temples showed similar dispositions as the fascists and the Communists that I found to be quite dangerous.  That message got lost in my intentional humor, but I was okay with that.

Later in the year, the class read David Mamet’s play “Oleanna.”  “Oleanna” is about a female college student going to office hours of a male professor who is distracted by his attempt to sell his home.  Eventually, the student ends up accusing the professor of sexual harassment and the play ends rather dramatically.  I liked the piece, as I did Mamet’s film, “State and Main,” but that didn’t prevent me from feeling the need to point out what I believed was the social undertone of the play.

So when the professor asked for my thoughts on the work, I used the phrase “feminist propaganda” to describe it, a comment I stand behind to this day.  The class laughed and moved on.  I do wish now, though, that there was some discussion on my comment because I intended to make a serious point, which is that the piece is clearly a product of the 70s and 80s feminist movement.  The play didn’t offend a conservative in me, but I did take notice of the undertone.  Despite my attempt at trying to be humerous, I think that reflection on the state of society was worth a class discussion.  I would have been greatly outnumbered, but I think it would have been worth the fight.

Of course, sometimes I don’t have a point to make except to provoke a laugh.  Later in the semester, the class inevitably ventured to the world of poems, which, despite my liberal education, I still fail to see the point of.  There was a poem which I obviously don’t remember that talked about a “grass bed” and the professor sought opinion of the phrase from the class.  I opined that I took that to mean there was a bed on the grass.  It is, after all, what was written.  This commentary, intended to humerously highlight my utter failure to understand the absurdity of poems’ “symbolism,” touched off a firestorm discussion on why it’s not a bed and why it’s not on a grass.  My goodness.  The one time I didn’t need deep analysis of my commentary is when I got it.

And sometimes, never being taken seriously has its benefits, like when I make controversial statements.  In a group meeting of guys, the conversation drifted towards describing the ideal woman in one word.

My choice was “domestic.”

Now, mind you, I’m not a sexist fool.  I’m just a fool who would use the same word to describe an ideal husband.  I also understand, though, that  without further elaboration (and even with it), the statement could be deemed offensive and insensitive by many (mostly in the opposite gender, although not exclusively), so I was not displeased when everyone laughed and moved on.

And sometimes, even I can’t tell whether I have a point to make or not.  I was one of two speakers at my high school commencement.  My buddy James’ speech was deep and intense.  Mine was intended to be humerous but, depending on whom you ask, may have also been substantive.  Even the speechwriter, yours truly, is not sure.

So next time when I make a statement that you think is funny, before you dismiss it as unsubstantive silliness, please think about reading between the lines to figure out whether I’m trying to make a serious point.  And if you think my comments could be offensive, please laugh it off and move to the next topic on which I could provide a humerous, and possibly astute, commentary.