What really sticks in my craw?

Kai Beasley

You know what really sticks in my craw? I can’t stand that guy who can’t tell jokes. Come on, Villanova, you all know who I’m talking about. This guy is at every single party. Let’s call him “Not-Funny Guy.”

The worst part about Not-Funny Guy is that he fails to realize that he doesn’t even sniff funny. If funny has all the calories and sugar of a lifetime supply of Coca-Cola, then Not-Funny Guy is the equivalent of water. Not-Funny Guy is so “not funny” that when he tells you a joke, it actually makes you serious.

Not-Funny Guy is a predator. He waits and preys on groups of people who look like they’re having a good time. He’s the main practitioner of joke homicide and often doesn’t use his own material. If you know a Not-Funny Guy, report him to the police immediately.

How do you know if you have a Not-Funny Guy on your hands? It’s easy. If he attempts to keep a joke going a solid two minutes after it became unfunny, then you are dealing with a Not-Funny Guy. If you know someone who repeats the same joke over and over because he thinks you must not have heard him the first time, then you have a Not-Funny Guy on your hands. But most importantly, if you find yourself reacting to a joke by saying, “Aaahaha aaaahhh … yeah … yeah I get it,” then call the authorities immediately.

The Not-Funny epidemic is sweeping the nation, and pretty soon all conversation will be ruined by jokes that are either really corny or don’t make sense. Think, Villanova. Think of the effect that it could have on American society.

If people are forced to listen to Not-Funny Guy’s jokes, they will get depressed. Really funny people will find their own work meaningless because unfunny people are allowed to exist. Funny people would commit mass suicide, leaving only the moderately funny behind. Sure, funny people would try to save the world, but it just wouldn’t be enough. Entire cities would fall into what I call “unfunny-based depression,” people would get divorced and kill each other for the remaining copies of “The Chapelle Show,” “Loony Toons” and “Frasier,” wait … “Frasier” wasn’t funny … “Frasier” wasn’t funny at all. But you get the idea; pandemonium would ensue.

What I fear most is that the phenomenon of the Not-Funny Guy has already made its way into the highest positions in society. As a matter of fact, the news has just recently uncovered evidence of a Not-Funny Guy in political office as early as last week. I don’t want to name any names, but his name rhymes with Democratic Massachusetts Senator John Kerry (I’m sorry; I just wouldn’t feel right telling you who it was outright).

Last week, Senator Kerry got in a little bit of simmering-to-boiling water over a comment that was seemingly directed at our American troops in Iraq. Days after telling California college students that a lack of education would result in getting them “stuck in Iraq,” Kerry released an apology saying that the intention of the statement was not to insult the intelligence of our troops; rather, it was a “botched joke” that was aimed at the president’s handling of the war thus far.

Botched joke? That’s not a botched joke.

“A horse walks into a bar and the bartender says … something … anyway it ends up that the bartender makes a comment about the horse having a long face which in English colloquialism can have both a literal and metaphorical meaning. Hahaha, oh, I’m no good at telling jokes.” Now that’s a botched joke.

What Kerry uttered was a comic catastrophe. Even if he had worded it correctly, it really wouldn’t have been that funny. But let’s not judge Kerry too harshly because it is not his fault. He is simply a guy that’s not funny, and, like many of us, he shouldn’t tell jokes.

There is, however, a solution for the “not funniness” that afflicts so many Americans today; it rhymes with stop telling jokes because you’re not funny and you will only hurt yourself.

I guess, in short, get to know your humor (if you have any). If you aren’t funny, find another reason for people to like you, but please, don’t tell jokes.

Mr. Kerry, may I be the first to say that I love you, but don’t tell jokes. Just … don’t.

And that’s what really sticks in my craw. Good luck Villanova, and Godspeed.