“Every joke is a tiny revolution” – George Orwell

It’s no secret that this column has become the go-to site for investigation of society’s most dramatic, repulsive and shocking cultural trends n at. In past columns we’ve explained to our readers how they should not be overly alarmed over the fact that the president is a mental case and the congress makes the Three Stooges look like the Mensa society. We’ve confronted head on the threat posed by deranged wildlife and brawling borough councilmen. And we’ve explored the evolving societal mores that have resulted in the football team using the ladies’ room and how a kid with a mustache won the girls’ track and field trophy.

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Oh, wait, that last one just happened. A sprinter who was born a male but now considers him-, er, her-self female, won the Connecticut State high school 100 and 200 meter sprint championships as a freshma . . ., er freshperson, beating a field of upperclasspersons who have been, you know, regular girls their whole lives. After a thorough investigation we think the whole thing is being blown out of proportion. We saw a picture, and it really isn’t much of a mustache.

As for the track meets and such, we feel this stuff will all work itself out either by non-mustachioed girls giving up on competitive sports altogether or by athletic governing bodies creating special events for girls who started out as girls and didn’t, you know, use to be dudes. Or would that be politically incorrect? Yeah, we’re just hoping not to get in trouble for talking about it.

Because you can get in trouble for talking about stuff and not just about sex or gender or whatever they’re calling it these days. Now they’ve started trying to police jokes. That’s what happened to a professor at Johns Hopkins, a prestigious university in the part of Baltimore where they don’t shoot each other all that often, but if you have to get shot, it’s probably the best place to do so because there’s a big medical facility right at the college. Anyway, believe it or not, the professor got suspended for telling a joke.

This guy was a professor of international economics, so you’d expect a fairly sophisticated joke out of him, right? A professor’s not going to be springing “knock-knock” jokes on you, or asking you to pull his finger. You probably won’t be hearing about a man from Nantucket, or any priests, ministers and rabbis walking into bars. Chances are it will be relevant and topical and not contain any words you wouldn’t say in front of your own sainted mother. You’re dying to hear it, aren’t you? Well here goes:

An American loses his job due to his work being off-shored. He is very depressed and calls a mental health hotline. He gets a call center in Pakistan where the call center employee asks, “What seems to be the problem?” The American responds that he has lost his job due to the work being sent overseas and states, “I am really depressed and actually suicidal.” The call center employee says, “Great. Can you drive a truck?”

We didn’t say it would be boffo gag-city, but if you had to sit through a class on international economics, you’d probably appreciate a little something like that to lighten the mood, right? Three Johns Hopkins students said it, the joke, created a “hostile learning environment.” You think they might have been teamsters irked at a truck driver slur? Nah..

The point is, we have to draw the comedy line somewhere, hopefully over an open manhole while wearing a nose-and-glasses. Because if we let them have our terrorist jokes, what’s to stop them from taking our lawyer jokes? Then it’ll be psychiatrist jokes, then politician jokes. Mark our words, the time will come when we’ll be hanging around dark alleyways looking for black market whoopie cushions.

You know, before they turn up the heat, we have to tell you this one we heard the other day down at the Moose. This is gold: The pope, a kangaroo and a girl with a mustache sprint into a bar, . . . Hold on a second, there’s somebody at the door . . .

Comments – DickVerbo@hotmail.com Also, Like “The Idler” on Facebook

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