J is for Jokes

A friend recently told me this joke:

Knock knock. Who’s there? Knock knock. Who’s there? Knock knock. Who’s there?

Knock knock. Who’s there? Knock knock. Who’s there?

Philip Glass.

You probably know who Philip Glass is, what his music is like, and consequently why this joke is funny (or at least clever and amusing). If not, check this out. You don’t have to listen long to get the idea.

So I was thinking about jokes: what makes them funny? Why do we tell them? What purpose do they serve? I’m not a sociologist or even particularly knowledgeable about humor, but here are some ideas that have been going through my head.

One thing jokes do: they relieve stress. As a teacher I know that if the mood in a class is tense or overly serious, a joke can lighten the atmosphere and make for a more productive class.

In the past I’ve seen articles that claim laughter can increase oxygen flow, ease muscle tension, even stimulate the immune system. We all know from experience how laughter just makes you feel good, hence “feel-good” movies that usually have a lot of jokes (in addition to some sort of cheesy romance plot or comforting moral message – uh oh, cynicism. Here’s a joke to counter it: why did the Salvador Dali cross the road? Fish…).

Jokes also build group spirit, especially those that require some sort of in-group knowledge (for example, the Philip Glass joke above: if you get it, you feel kind of special and might feel a kinship with other Philip Glass aficionados). I remember the first time I encountered this phenomenon as a musician. I was at summer arts camp where we had a “Conversation with the Artist” lecture series. Our conductor, David Becker, was holding forth about music (a really inspiring talk; I got a tape and wore it out). He also told a lot of musician jokes, some of which I remember to this day:

What’s the difference between a violin and a viola? A viola burns longer (this was the first, and certainly not the last, time I heard this joke).

What’s the difference between a saxophone and a vacuum cleaner? You can tune a vacuum cleaner.

How do you make a trombone sound like a French horn? Stick your hand in the bell and miss a lot of notes.

This part of his talk was a revelation to me and all my musician friends. You could make jokes about music! It wasn’t just practice and lessons and auditions and rehearsals and concerts! We could laugh about music in a way that was special to us! And perhaps most importantly, we could make fun of ourselves, not take ourselves so seriously. For a bunch of tightly wound, perfectionistic, aspiring teenage musicians, this was an epiphany. We told those jokes to each other over and over. We tried explaining them to our roommates, who were writers, actors, painters, dancers, mimes (yes, mimes). They didn’t laugh out loud at our jokes (especially not the mimes), and their “not getting the joke” made us feel even more special.

Here’s a video that plays on in-group knowledge about the great cellists and illustrates an element of satire (exaggeration for comic effect) – as well as the idea that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

This dynamic of being “in on the joke” does have a dark side, though. If jokes can produce group cohesion, they can do that by scapegoating or stigmatizing someone outside the group. It’s the down-and-dirty road to self-esteem (group or individual): put someone else down. They’re bad; I’m good. This kind of joking enforces hierarchy by making the object of the joke seem less-than. Racist, sexist, homophobic jokes do this. They aren’t funny unless the object of the joke is in some way already socially marginal or subject to prejudice. For example:

What did the rich, well-educated white guy say when he opened a box of Cheerios?

“Look, donut seeds!”

Not too funny, right? Substitute “blonde” or “redneck” or “Sarah Palin” or “violist” and bingo! The joke works better. At some point in the past, viola jokes may have functioned this way – as a way for others musicians to build up their egos by putting down a scapegoat. And historically, there was some basis for viola jokes: until the twentieth century, the viola wasn’t much of a solo instrument, and violists were recruited from the ranks of older and/or less accomplished violists, so they were easy targets. Hence jokes like this:

What’s the definition of a string quartet? A good violinist, a bad violist, a former violinist, and two plane tickets.

These days, however, violists aren’t necessarily any better or worse than any other category of musician. So viola jokes, I think, have the status of blonde jokes – making fun of a group that everyone knows (or should know) isn’t really inferior.

So to me, viola jokes are funny because they represent a form of "Viola Power" -- a repetition of the stigma that makes fun of it and takes its power away, in the same way that the gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender community reclaimed the word “queer” or the African-American community (especially comedians) have reclaimed the “N word.” I think this reclaiming perhaps operates on the same principle behind the formula “tragedy plus time equals humor.” If you can laugh later about something negative, you take away its power to hurt you.

Also, I think it’s fun that the viola has its own category of jokes. Everyone in an orchestra knows about viola jokes. By contrast, heard any good xylophone jokes lately? Celeste jokes? Bass clarinet jokes?

So having written a not-terribly-funny blog on jokes (irony), I’ll forego the viola joke, and leave you with these humorous viola videos.

Maybe the universe is trying to tell this guy something?

I wish I sounded this good playing the Bartok Concerto NOT riding a unicycle:

DH