Anvil Logo

Subscribe
Archives
About Us
Contact
Search

 

sponsored by


Hosted by
eROI

 
  All Eggs in One Mexican Basket by Greg Coyle
How a Serial Rapist, a Bounty Hunter and I Ended up in the Same Place
  Eggcidental Tourist by Joel Gunz
The Bates Motel-Coming to a Neighborhood Near You
  Doing the Dance by Chris Parkhurst
Sundance is a long way from Hollywood
  BusOneSeven: The Chicken Came First by Roderick Armageddon
A pending father's list of the most exciting reasons for not taking your parenthood too seriously.
  Recipe: Molded Egg and Caviar Salad
  Lists
  Haiku: Japanese poetry, lightly scrambled
  List: Rejected Egg Bank Slogans

Egg in Your Face
by Kent Lewis

It's a fine line between acting like a jackass and being one. I've spent far too much time walking that line, and occasionally, falling. Ever since I was a wee lad, I've enjoyed making people laugh. For the most part, I'm known for my self-effacing dry wit, sarcasm and dashing good looks. From time to time, however, I've taken my act too far.

One afternoon in physics class, Dina was reading aloud to the class from our textbook. She kept mixing up the numbers, especially dates. For instance, instead of 1827, she'd say "1728." After the third mistake, I asked my friends loudly, "What's up with Dina? Does she have dyslexia or something?" Thinking my joke was clever, I grimaced and my friends chuckled. Overhearing my comment, Dina replied, "Why yes Kent, I DO have dyslexia." And I turned bright red.

Even though I'm sure I've offended many people over the years, I've never forgotten the FUBAR in physics class, maybe because I respected Dina or maybe because it wasn't really all that funny in the first place. Since then, I've tried to be more conscious of the direction my humor takes. While a majority of my jokes still tend to be at my own expense (they're always the funniest), I can't ignore opportunities to mock mullet-wearing Camaro-driving Gresham residents.

To ensure I minimize potential embarrassment or physical harm from muscle-bound, gun-toting Greshamites, I've devised a set of basic rules for safe humor. I'm going to share it with you in the hopes it will bring happiness and prosperity to your life.

Rule 1
Never make fun of anyone who doesn't know better. This includes the mentally or physically disabled, mentally unstable, clinically obese or those from Arkansas. It's a simple but effective rule that has loaded me with good karma.

Rule 2
Never make fun of anyone that can run faster than you or is heavily armed. I made this mistake in Missouri once. At a bar once I told a local that his mother wore a wig with a chinstrap. Now I've got a wooden leg with a kickstand.

Rule 3
Never plagiarize jokes without giving proper credit. I'm a terrible storyteller, which means any attempt at retelling a good joke is futile. On the rare occasion I use someone else's material, I wait until the laughter dies down to give credit. The second reason to cite the source is when the joke bombs. I've frequently credited famous comedians when my own joke went over like a turd in a hot tub.

Rule 4
Know your audience. With friends (and most family members) it's okay to push the envelope. It's not okay to drop your latest dirty joke involving "weapons of mass destruction" on your co-worker's parents when they drop by the office. Be especially careful at work. I was once fired for making an off-hand comment about the flexibility of my boss's ex-wife, though it was worth it.

Rule 5
Don't say anything you wouldn't be able to take if someone said it to you. From time to time, friends and family that are gifted humorists can't take a joke when the tables are turned. The best way to diffuse the situation is to make a wisecrack about Gresham.

I hope this helps provide a foundation for future comedic forays. Enjoy and be sure to duck when the egg comes your way. Sorry Dina.