Carol:
Knock, Knock
I have mentioned in other daily theme essays that I was raised in a family of practical jokesters and punsters, and that I married into a family where I am the only white sheep in a herd of black humorists. I appreciate funny jokes, but I don’t tell them myself. I could never tell a joke right. I could rarely get to the punch line without blowing it or giggling uncontrollably. Mostly, the laugh would be on me, and my friends liked me to tell jokes just to watch me be silly. I got most of my repertoire from the Reader’s Digest humor columns or bubble gum wrappers. Two things I did really well back then: silly and innocent.
Knock, Knock. Who’s There? Banana. Banana who?
My father’s humor tended toward really corny groaners or long, convoluted stories that sucked you in until you saw a little look in his eye that he was leading up to a punch line. A woman in Calgary once offered to pay him $50 to write jokes for her when she preparing a talk for a big meeting. I will never forget her because she told a pretty funny story one time about how, getting ready for a fancy dinner she sprayed her hair with air freshener instead of hair spray. My Dad turned her down, reminding her “It’s all in the delivery,”
Knock, Knock. Who’s There? Banana. Banana who?
My siblings are jokesters too, and cartoonists, which is probably why they went into the greeting card business together. When they were in the planning stages of their venture, my brothers brought a whole bunch of their jokes to a family gathering, but they waited until my mother went to the kitchen to pass out the jokes because she might get offended by the off-color ones. One of their best-selling cards was “Hot Tub Tips for Men.”
Knock, Knock. Who’s There? Banana. Banana who?
Not that my mother didn’t have a sense of humor. One time somebody-- probably one of my brothers—sneaked into my parents’ backyard and marked all the oranges hanging from a tree with a brand-name ink stamp. I think it was “Tropicana,” but I never can tell a story right so I expect someone to correct me on the details. My mother picked the oranges, walked into the house with the basket of fruit. Then, she turned to the most likely culprit and said, “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature.” Well, you had to be there. It’s all in the delivery.
Knock, Knock. Who’s There? Banana. Banana who?
My mother loved my college boyfriend right away, but he said it was because she didn’t know the “real” him. Marc was pretty good at holding back the darkest, most extreme side, that vein of black humor that came up from his family roots and was passed down to our kids. When he gets a funny card from his sister, he’ll show it to everybody but me. As they are laughing away, Megan usually remarks, “ You wouldn’t really appreciate it, Mom.”
Knock, Knock. Who’s There? Orange. Orange who?
Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?
Orange you glad I’m finished with this essay?
No time to write today. Packing for the next phase of the journey -- San Diego and a job fair. Mom will be joining me and hopefully we'll both be back here next Monday. I leave you with my favorite joke that I heard recently. It really needs to be told rather than read, but is excellent for people who often blow punchlines :
"Did you hear the Legally Blonde actress was stabbed? Reese... um... "
"Witherspoon?"
"No. With a knife."
Correction: "Tropicana" was not the name I rubber-stamped on the oranges, it was "Sunkist". And the prank was aimed at my father, a backyard gardener who loved taking fruit to the office to share with fellow employees. Mother saw me marking the fruit on the tree in the early morning, but the Mother Nature line was definitely hers.
ReplyDeleteWhile living in Big Bear Lake, CA, they brought us an apple tree to plant. After a severe winter of record snow, spring revealed a dead sprig of a tree about 5 feet tall. Knowing they were coming up for a visit, I bought 3 large red apples at our local Safeway and wired them to the tree. As they exited their car and spied the tree and my obvious alterations, dad gave me a "nice try" grimace. Mother laughed! But not at the joke, but at me. "That's a Granny Smith tree. You know, the one with GREEN apples."
My favorite joke form is the pun. The punnier the better (ugh). Two of my best-selling greeting cards were punsters. Here are the punch lines, you supply the lead up.
"RUDOLPH THE RED KNOWS RAIN, DEAR"
"IF THE FOO SHITS, WEAR IT."
Doug: I was waiting for you to correct my faulty memory. I even looked up brands of oranges on the internet, but couldn't remember the Sunkist part. As I said, jokes and I...
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