I've always found it somewhat peculiar that someone should claim that something isn't funny. Well, that's not entirely true. Some "jokes" are naturally not funny, and I'm sure dealing with such jokes and their tellers is an unfortunate experience that most if not all of us have had to endure. But I think when you tell someone that their joke isn't funny, you're not saying that it couldn't be funny. Any comic will tell you that the majority of a laugh comes from delivery more than content itself, for instance. Some punchlines rely on information not revealed in the telling of the joke, but in extra information, perhaps from the recent news or popular culture, and if one is not aware of such references they will not find the joke funny. When I say 'joke', I don't necessarily mean your typical gag, but rather any comedic venture, whether it's a joke or a sketch or a song or what have you. I'm not saying that every single failed joke can be rescued, to be clear, but rather that the problem with a failed joke isn't necessarily the subject matter in question.
Compare and contrast this, if you will, with criticisms not of jokes but of their subject matter. A common objection to certain types of comedy is that their subject matter isn't funny. I have a number of problems with this sort of claim, a few of which I'll briefly share with you.
First of all, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. If you criticise a joke for having subject matter which isn't funny, then you seem to be implying that there is subject matter that is inherently amusing. Yet, I have never been introduced to anything which I would say was considered universally funny. It's absurdly easy to pick holes in any such claims even if they were offered though. I'm not going to offer an example on the grounds that there would be little purpose in it, but if you insist on me giving it a go, write a comment with the funniest thing you know and I'll tell you why it's not funny, to someone at least.
If you were in an argumentative mood though, you might say that there may not be things inherently funny, but there are things which are inherently unfunny, which I think might be a stronger objection to make, even though I still disagree. If there are inherently unfunny things, I think they would fall into two categories: the mundane, and the offensive. The case of the mundane category is an easy one to despatch; the very fact that observational comedy grew to be so successful was that it took things considered relatively uninteresting and made them really funny.
The case of the offensive category is a little different, but not altogether so. For one thing, what is offensive to one person is not necessarily to another, and so if there are no inherently offensive topics, by extension there are no inherently unfunny topics. But, you might say, there are many topics so widely considered taboo that they might as well be considered inherently offensive. Suppose I grant it; two things come up. First of all, the more taboo a topic, the funnier it often is to talk about it. Indeed, it's been supposed that all great comedy has an element of offensiveness about it; the unexpected quality of the subject matter adds to its humour (but then, there's an old saying that dissecting a joke is like dissecting a frog in that the frog tends to end up dead by the end of it). Second of all, there are many ways to joke about an offensive topic. Indeed, if done in character or in a heavily sarcastic manner, jokes can be made about offensive topics in what would be considered a totally inoffensive manner.
This isn't an in-depth discussion particularly, just something I thought about one time that I thought I might write down. It's not really well planned-out or anything like that, but that doesn't mean there's nothing to take out of it. If anything, I would urge you to consider this: if there really is nothing that can't be made laughable in some way, doesn't that mean that everything has an element of humour to it? And if that's the case, maybe we should all take things a bit more lightly and be a bit more ready to laugh at what we might otherwise frown at. Just food for thought.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
The mantra of pity
Pity the man who is quick to anger,
Pity the man who is slow to remorse,
Pity the man who is familiar to arrogance,
Pity the man who is unknown to compassion.
Pity the man who raises his hand in rage,
Pity the man who lies to his dying day,
Pity the man who boasts out of vanity,
Pity the man who laughs at the pain of others.
But pity the man who retreats into haughtiness,
And is too ready to pity only others.
Take pity on yourself when you lose your humility,
For you are as pitiful as your fellow man.
Pity the man who is slow to remorse,
Pity the man who is familiar to arrogance,
Pity the man who is unknown to compassion.
Pity the man who raises his hand in rage,
Pity the man who lies to his dying day,
Pity the man who boasts out of vanity,
Pity the man who laughs at the pain of others.
But pity the man who retreats into haughtiness,
And is too ready to pity only others.
Take pity on yourself when you lose your humility,
For you are as pitiful as your fellow man.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Just a notice
Hey everyone,
This is just a very quick note to let you know about a few things.
When I originally started the blog I had the intention of keeping a running series of long philosophical diatribes interspersed with other materials. The series was simply titled My Beliefs, and I only ever published Part One (I stalled mid-way through Part Two). Instead of keeping to that series I branched out and addressed other topics as they came to me, something I continue to do currently. Given that I have started on a more narrowly-focussed series (Ethics) and that I have others planned, I have decided to do some slight reshaping.
First of all, My Beliefs is now gone. The tag from that first post is gone and that post (Part One: God) has had the 'Part One' removed. This should remove any confusion for any new readers, although I have kept the Introduction post as-is because I don't want to edit or remove it (just yet, at least).
Second of all, I'm just stating that Ethics will continue and Chapter Four is in the works. I've just decided to do a couple of smaller intermediate posts to keep things moving; there's nothing worse than stagnation after all, especially after such a long break from writing. I hope to maintain this style of regular updating in the future, but I offer no guarantees.
In case any of you were doubting me, I do in fact have a long list of future topics as well as a couple of half-finished posts in the backlog yet to be published. The world is a crazy place and it's full of crazy people, so there's no shortage of material, and so long as that is the case I will keep jotting down my thoughts on them, you can be certain of that.
This is just a very quick note to let you know about a few things.
When I originally started the blog I had the intention of keeping a running series of long philosophical diatribes interspersed with other materials. The series was simply titled My Beliefs, and I only ever published Part One (I stalled mid-way through Part Two). Instead of keeping to that series I branched out and addressed other topics as they came to me, something I continue to do currently. Given that I have started on a more narrowly-focussed series (Ethics) and that I have others planned, I have decided to do some slight reshaping.
First of all, My Beliefs is now gone. The tag from that first post is gone and that post (Part One: God) has had the 'Part One' removed. This should remove any confusion for any new readers, although I have kept the Introduction post as-is because I don't want to edit or remove it (just yet, at least).
Second of all, I'm just stating that Ethics will continue and Chapter Four is in the works. I've just decided to do a couple of smaller intermediate posts to keep things moving; there's nothing worse than stagnation after all, especially after such a long break from writing. I hope to maintain this style of regular updating in the future, but I offer no guarantees.
In case any of you were doubting me, I do in fact have a long list of future topics as well as a couple of half-finished posts in the backlog yet to be published. The world is a crazy place and it's full of crazy people, so there's no shortage of material, and so long as that is the case I will keep jotting down my thoughts on them, you can be certain of that.
The parable of the raft
Three men were trapped on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean. 'Trapped' may be the wrong word to use here; the island was a hospitable one, and offered much in the way of food, water and shelter, and since they found themselves there one day the three men had led lives of relative comfort. However, they agreed that the time had come for them to leave the island.
The first man threw himself into the ocean and was dragged by the currents almost immediately down the beach. He struggled to stay above water before he eventually scrambled on to some rocks and pulled himself back inland before trudging back to their camp by the beach.
The second man tut-tutted the first and pulled out from the jungle a raft. "The other man is a fool to try and swim through those currents," he said. "I took my shelter and fashioned a raft from the wood. I'll have no such problems as him." So he dragged his raft out into the water, stepped on board and pushed off from the sand. He drifted out into the water with a grin on his face directed squarely on the first man, still dripping wet, but still set on swimming from the island.
But soon enough the current took the second man too, and pulled him down the shore. As he rounded the rocks, he passed out of the sight of the third man. "That man thinks himself superior for his raft," he mused, "but whether he is taken back to shore or left at sea, he will always be at the mercy of the currents."
And so the third man pulled out a raft of his own, made also from his shelter, but unlike the first man, he had taken the time to venture away from the camp to the interior of the island to gather materials for fashioning oars and a sail of palm leaves, and so when he cast himself out into the water, unlike the first two men who were doomed to follow where the fickle currents took them, he was able to sail away from the island, away from its currents, and go where he wanted.
In this story, the camp represents childhood, situated on an island of wider formative influences. The currents are indifferent desires, such as for wealth and fame, which both come about from the presence of the island itself and surround it. There must come a time for all youth to venture out into the world, both literally and metaphorically, and grow up. All the men in the story recognise this. The first man tries to do so, but is subject to his desires and almost becomes lost in them, to the point where he ventures back to the safety of what he knows, his bubble of influence, to keep from drowning. The second man knows that one cannot expect to swim against the current and succeed, so he builds a raft, and thinks himself all the cleverer for it, despite the fact that he is just as subject to the whim of his desires as the first man. Though the lessons learnt from childhood keep him afloat, he still goes blindly where his wants take him, and so he will never stray far from the roost. The third man recognises, however, that he must draw on a wider experience if he is to ever grow into his own man. Drawing from other parts of the island allows him to give his life new direction away from the island and towards other lands of learning and growing.
Most young adults are akin to the second man. They look at those whose lives are governed by crime or the bottle and think themselves all the wiser because they have taken up the trappings of adulthood, responsibilities towards themselves and others, and are content enough, blind to the fact that they follow the whims of worldly desires, those same destructive influences as the ones they look down on. When people come to reach the age of adulthood, they are fooled by their parents and their education into thinking their raft is a steel-hulled ship, capable of going anywhere and doing anything, even staying out at sea indefinitely. No, such ships take time and expertise to construct, and in order to do so one must visit many ports on many islands, and upgrade their raft from there. That is why it is the third man we should try to be most like. Draw from as wide a pool of learning as you can (the sort of learning about life, not the sort you find in a textbook) and consciously try to construct as good a raft as you can. Only then will you be able to reach those other ports to improve your boat even still. It may expose you to the elements, but isn't that worth it for the possibility of true freedom? Better to work at becoming a truly free person than allow yourself to always be brought back to that same old shore, and let the one that bore you become the one you die on.
The lesson is this: experience is knowledge of life. Learn experience where you can and then use that experience to learn more, because the more experience you garner the wiser you become, and wisdom is the key to freedom from desire, the only true freedom. Do not be seduced by your wants and "needs", they are phantasms and, if not heeded, will keep you from attaining the wisdom that grants you freedom and the happiness that follows.
The first man threw himself into the ocean and was dragged by the currents almost immediately down the beach. He struggled to stay above water before he eventually scrambled on to some rocks and pulled himself back inland before trudging back to their camp by the beach.
The second man tut-tutted the first and pulled out from the jungle a raft. "The other man is a fool to try and swim through those currents," he said. "I took my shelter and fashioned a raft from the wood. I'll have no such problems as him." So he dragged his raft out into the water, stepped on board and pushed off from the sand. He drifted out into the water with a grin on his face directed squarely on the first man, still dripping wet, but still set on swimming from the island.
But soon enough the current took the second man too, and pulled him down the shore. As he rounded the rocks, he passed out of the sight of the third man. "That man thinks himself superior for his raft," he mused, "but whether he is taken back to shore or left at sea, he will always be at the mercy of the currents."
And so the third man pulled out a raft of his own, made also from his shelter, but unlike the first man, he had taken the time to venture away from the camp to the interior of the island to gather materials for fashioning oars and a sail of palm leaves, and so when he cast himself out into the water, unlike the first two men who were doomed to follow where the fickle currents took them, he was able to sail away from the island, away from its currents, and go where he wanted.
In this story, the camp represents childhood, situated on an island of wider formative influences. The currents are indifferent desires, such as for wealth and fame, which both come about from the presence of the island itself and surround it. There must come a time for all youth to venture out into the world, both literally and metaphorically, and grow up. All the men in the story recognise this. The first man tries to do so, but is subject to his desires and almost becomes lost in them, to the point where he ventures back to the safety of what he knows, his bubble of influence, to keep from drowning. The second man knows that one cannot expect to swim against the current and succeed, so he builds a raft, and thinks himself all the cleverer for it, despite the fact that he is just as subject to the whim of his desires as the first man. Though the lessons learnt from childhood keep him afloat, he still goes blindly where his wants take him, and so he will never stray far from the roost. The third man recognises, however, that he must draw on a wider experience if he is to ever grow into his own man. Drawing from other parts of the island allows him to give his life new direction away from the island and towards other lands of learning and growing.
Most young adults are akin to the second man. They look at those whose lives are governed by crime or the bottle and think themselves all the wiser because they have taken up the trappings of adulthood, responsibilities towards themselves and others, and are content enough, blind to the fact that they follow the whims of worldly desires, those same destructive influences as the ones they look down on. When people come to reach the age of adulthood, they are fooled by their parents and their education into thinking their raft is a steel-hulled ship, capable of going anywhere and doing anything, even staying out at sea indefinitely. No, such ships take time and expertise to construct, and in order to do so one must visit many ports on many islands, and upgrade their raft from there. That is why it is the third man we should try to be most like. Draw from as wide a pool of learning as you can (the sort of learning about life, not the sort you find in a textbook) and consciously try to construct as good a raft as you can. Only then will you be able to reach those other ports to improve your boat even still. It may expose you to the elements, but isn't that worth it for the possibility of true freedom? Better to work at becoming a truly free person than allow yourself to always be brought back to that same old shore, and let the one that bore you become the one you die on.
The lesson is this: experience is knowledge of life. Learn experience where you can and then use that experience to learn more, because the more experience you garner the wiser you become, and wisdom is the key to freedom from desire, the only true freedom. Do not be seduced by your wants and "needs", they are phantasms and, if not heeded, will keep you from attaining the wisdom that grants you freedom and the happiness that follows.
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