Post No.: 0976
Furrywisepuppy says:
Telling jokes requires complex, high-order communication but enjoying them is totally primitive (just like a baby being tickled!) There’s a social function for laughter. Like yawning, it’s contagious and we’re far more likely to laugh around others, especially other people we like. We’re reasonably good at distinguishing real from fake laughter too. Using canned laughter in sitcoms generates more chuckles from viewers at home compared to if there’s no laugh track, but not as much as from a genuine audience that’s laughing. We also tend to laugh less when watching a comedy alone compared to when with physical company.
We can laugh to show agreement with someone, to appease someone, or to try to get someone to do an awkward favour for us or tell us more about their private fluffy de-tails. Laughter can be used to mask other emotions like when we’re crying, upset or embarrassed. Some laugh in the event of tragedy, which may seem inappropriate, but it can be a reflexive way to cope – so in such cases it’s not about finding something funny but finding a way to cope with something incredulous. The spontaneous and uncontrollable kind of laughter is what we release when we see or hear something really funny in itself, but there are also the kinds of short bursts of social or polite laughter we subconsciously express during conversations. So laughter doesn’t have to come from intended jokes – we laugh throughout normal conservations as part of the natural rhythm of conversation itself. It bonds groups. It can connect lovers intimately (people can even be potentially laughed into bed!) Jokes can also help get us through tough times.
But – and this is a big but and I cannot lie – jokes can also be cruel, like sideways gibes, depending on who tells it, where, when and to whom. We can laugh at someone – which is very different to laughing with them – especially if they’re being ganged up on.
The types of jokes people enjoy can reveal a lot about their personalities and beliefs. People laugh at jokes depending on their own moral code, and how others in their immediate company might respond to them. Mocking particular types of people reveals the teller’s and their community’s prejudices, insecurities, anxieties and shortcomings, and affirms their own allegiances and identity.
Sometimes people are too eager to patronise you on a technical point because they’ve taken you too seriously. (Tough crowd!) Or sometimes they don’t recognise that you were only jesting and what you said wasn’t meant as offence. (Too soon?) Yet when our jokes can be (mis)construed as offensive – whose fault is it? Is offence inherent in a word or sentence itself, in the cultural or social norms of the meanings of them, the intentions of the teller, the minds of the audience, or maybe all these?
From one perspective, jokes are just made-up, not real, or at least they’re just words and critics are just trying to be too politically correct. The context and intention of the joke telling is everything.
But from another perspective, for a joke to give offence, offence must be taken. It’s unfortunate when people don’t realise when you’re genuinely only joking yet if your jokes are considered offensive then they’re offensive. Jokes are said in jest but if they’re considered offensive by the recipients then it’d be worse than a straight commentary of the situation. Therefore if something is meant as a joke then it has to be taken as funny. For a joke to give pleasure – it must be shared.
It’s like Fenrisúlfr serving a human some raw turkey then saying, “It’s only some food.” To him maybe, but not to those he’s serving it to, who’ll consider it unpalatable. Jokes are said for the audience to judge after all – like a movie is made for the audience to judge; and if they, say, giggle even though a scene was supposed to be serious, then the failure is on the director, not the audience.
Giving and taking offence is a tricky subject however – most people accept there’s a line between banter and malicious threats but the location of this line is highly subjective and contextual. It’s sometimes complicated, with intention crossed with implication. Yet a socially-intelligent joker will know to take something back if a listener feels genuinely threatened (and only the listener can say whether they felt that way). Read the room. And a socially-intelligent jokee will let a one-off gibe go if the joker didn’t intend their joke as a way of trying to coerce them (e.g. as part of a sustained campaign to get them to emigrate). You could take it as a compliment if others consider you as a big threat they wish to make look smaller too.
A joke won’t be funny to someone unless they believe that the content of the joke rings true to some degree, even if they’re ashamed to admit it (e.g. a joke about how Chinese people cannot eat soup because they use chopsticks isn’t going to be funny to those who’ve seen Chinese spoons before). This means that ignorant people can find some things funny that more informed people could only greet with sighs.
Cruelty alone isn’t funny. Yet humour is a better outlet for the joker than hatred – it’s harder to hate what makes us laugh. And if we can laugh together, we can live together, as long as everybody joins in and is allowed to join in. Jokes bond groups of time, place and beliefs; although they simultaneously exclude outsiders.
Some take on the attitude that anything said in the name of entertainment is fine, and if anyone takes it any other way then it’s their problem. But humour based on prejudices has societal consequences. It’s not ‘just banter’. Even if humour isn’t meant as offensive – to the targets of a joke (or those who empathise with these individuals) it can still be felt as such. If everybody takes a joke as non-disparaging then it can bond everybody, but if anyone feels that it is disparaging then it can fractionate. Humour can therefore bind ingroups of like-minded people but divide against outgroups. It can reinforce an echo chamber effect of prejudiced views.
Typical jokes build up tension and then the punchline releases it (Post No.: 0948 by Fluffystealthkitten talked about crafting and delivering jokes) – but with controversial jokes, the tension arrives more in the punchline and we’re left unsure as to whether we should laugh because it might be tasteless to.
A joke about a horrific event isn’t the horrific event itself, but it may appear to support or condone it. Whatever the case – a joke exists to garner some mirth and if it fails to do that because it offends then it has failed as a joke.
But is a bad joke a sufficient reason to cancel somebody? Is cancel culture at odds with the freedom of expression?
Making fun of how people are or what they do are ways to enforce social norms. But is it right to mock those who are merely different to us but aren’t doing any harm to others, or themselves, and there’s no intention from them to hurt others? Groups that have been routinely taunted include those with different sexualities, gender identities, skin colours, voices, the poor, disabled and other discriminated and even disadvantaged groups. These ‘jokes’ lack empathy and are quite cheap and low; although it won’t feel like that inside one’s clique. Trying to beat people who are already down or marginalised in order to make oneself feel superior is the lowest form of humour. It’s saying ‘you’re weird and different to what we think is socially normal so we’ll bully you into conforming or getting lost if you can’t’. Is it liberty as long as you’re like us and do what we/the majority do?!
Times and attitudes can change though, which just shows that judgements are never objective (they’re always contextual and relative). What’s ‘creepy’ or ‘strange’ could later become considered ‘brave’ or ‘creative’.
Unsophisticated humour is based on trying to feel superior to others. Nowadays, the sharper evolution of humour isn’t about putting others down to raise oneself up in comparison but about true observational wit and furry juxtaposition. Best joke about events, not people. Or if we want to joke about people – poke fun at truly malign and powerful people. It’s usually funnier when serious characters make a fool of themselves too.
And like how there are really enough ingredients in the world, for a great chef, to create novel and delicious dishes without having to touch, say, foie gras or dog meat – isn’t there enough source material, for a great comedian, to create novel and funny jokes without having to touch, say, religion or race? So even if we could venture down these roads in a free-speech world, should we need to if we’re clever enough?
We don’t always laugh because we agree with what was said but because it surprised us in the moment or because we’re trying to fit in with a group, thus laughing at controversial things doesn’t necessarily mean we intend harm. But the problem is that for those who do agree with what a shocking joke may be suggesting, it’ll appear to validate their sentiments and reinforce them. Little things can contribute to bigger things that reshape social attitudes over time. All this (unintentional) validation can permeate via the media and culture (as memes do) until the lines between humour and harassment blur. The contemporary culture influences as well as reflects the contemporary trends in comedy. So jokes can legitimise prejudices, hence censorship is sometimes necessary.
A good comedian always knows where to draw the line and keeps things in the context of humour and no more. An even better comedian will ensure that the audience understands this too. Woof.
Humour surfaces when things go wrong, but not so wrong that they become harrowing (e.g. a cat getting their head stuck in a jar is funny, but not if the cat is utterly distressed!) There’s usually a ‘benign violation’, as in they usually start with something that’s amiss, perhaps threatening, in some way but then end up somehow not wrong, hence this incongruent feeling – it’s kind of simultaneously wrong and not wrong. This is why humour is so personal as it depends on one’s values, beliefs and perceptions of what’s wrong or unsettling. Distance, in time and/or space, can affect whether we find something funny too. So something is more funny when it happens to or is about some other individual/group (hence a comedian and audience must be on the same wavelength).
Tickling is benign, whereas punching is not. The violation can be, say, a social or linguistic one. Humour can be a gauge of how terrible a situation is (the less laughter, the more terrible) but on another paw it can make a terrible situation feel lighter. Humour can help us cope with pain and adversity i.e. make violations seem more benign, hence those who can see the funnier side of life are frequently valued.
But humour can also have a dark side. ‘Prejudiced norm theory’ suggests that derogatory jokes can increase tolerance towards discrimination amongst those listening by suggesting that it’s okay to not take issues like racism and sexism seriously.
Safer jokes make relatively benign situations seem like violations, compared to vice-versa. This approach may garner a little chortle but if it fails then it’ll only produce a groan or a bit of boredom until the next joke. Vice-versa may garner a bigger laugh but if it fails then it can really turn people away from you. The former is therefore more broadly appealing.
…Uh, I’m parched now. I’m really dreadful at avoiding dehydration. So how does one make a dog drink?
You put one in a blender :3.
Woof! And if you think that’s funny, you’re having a laugh!
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