“Laughter is what economists call a social or public good, since my pleasure from laughter does not detract from that of those who laugh along with me. Just the opposite, since a joke asks to be retold and the retelling increases the pleasure all around. The miracle of laughter, like that of the loaves and fishes, is that it increases as more partake.”
So writes F.H. Buckley in The
Morality of Laughter (2003), and my experience confirms his
observation. When I hear a good joke or encounter anything I find amusing, my
instinct is to share it with people I’m certain will share my enjoyment. That’s
a quality I look for in friends. Their enjoyment becomes mine all over again. A
sense of humor is a notoriously idiosyncratic thing; paradoxically, it is also
highly social.
Last weekend, Joseph
Epstein published “Is There a Doctor in the White House? Not if You Need an M.D.” in the Wall Street Journal. Epstein has a little fun with the incoming
first lady’s use of “Dr.” as a title, though she is not a medical doctor. It’s
a common affectation among academics. I’m shielded from its more gratuitous
uses because I work for my university's engineering school, and rarely encounter this little
vanity among engineers, scientists and mathematicians. The practice is common
in the humanities, where egos battle like pit bulls for dominance and sport.
At least since Juvenal and Martial, pretentiousness
and other forms of snobbery and pomposity have been classic targets of humor,
satire and plain old ridicule. I had never heard of Jill Biden before reading
Epstein’s column. I assumed the president-elect had a wife but I knew nothing about
her. By Epstein’s standards, the column was modestly amusing. I didn’t laugh
out loud, which I often do when reading him. In the larger body of his work I
give it a B-. He briefly outlines some aspects of academic snobbery as I
understand them. Then I learned his column had triggered tantrums in certain
quarters and I remembered the other ongoing pandemic – humorlessness. My reaction was
to send him a joke told to me by a computer scientist some years ago:
A woman screams, “Doctor! Doctor!”
A passerby replies, “I’m a
doctor. How can I help?”
“It’s my husband. He’s had
a heart attack.”
“I’m a doctor of
philosophy.”
“Help, doctor. He’s going
to die.”
“We’re all going to die.”
If you don’t get it, that’s
fine. Jokes shouldn’t require footnotes. It’s funny or it’s not. I like it because it suggests the obliviousness to common humanity
I’ve seen among so many academics. Such professors are less absent-minded than
self-absorbed.
5 comments:
I have to admit that article from Mr. Epstein disappointed me somewhat–a bit of an unworthy topic for him with a weird display of unreality towards how the prefix Dr. has been used. Which reminds me about the most important thing when making a joke...who are you telling it for? The best kind of comedic performance is one that doesn't rely on semantics or contemporary politics–the best form themselves from the natural stupidity of creatures who have the wonderful ability to laugh at themselves. I think that ties in to your point at the end–and it's one where I couldn't agree more!
I must say that I was floored by the hysterical overreaction to Epstein's mild jibe - it was the equivalent of using an h-bomb to dispose of a flea. Just what are these people so afraid of?
I've been reading Joseph Epstein's delightful essays for 35 years, ever since I chanced on his essay about E.B White in Commentary magazine. Boxer Muhammad Ali famously described his fighting style as "float like a butterfly, sting like bee." Epstein's writing style, not to put too fine a point on it, is to "float like a bee, sting like a butterfly."
The Epstein article was an amusing little assay at pretention popping. That the wild-eyed reaction to it was so overwrought suggests there's a lot more work to be done in that field, particularly aimed at a certain puffed-up set of the expensively miseducated.
With all the tempest-in-a-teapot controversy over Mr. Epstein's squib in the WSJ, perhaps this will stir some interest in actually reading him.
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