Humor and threats

A friend wrote that, although my re-turtle joke was beneath her (say, in the way that the Titanic is beneath the sea — way, way beneath), her just-post-pre-teen son had gotten what is called a boff out of it (Pogo’s words, not hers). What some people don’t seem to understand is I’ll just keep telling the same joke until you admit it’s funny. I’m not going anywhere.

When “My Left Foot” was out, I amused myself by telling others that I had stood up in the middle of the movie and cried out loud, “The Christy Brown Story?!! I thought this was The Christy Mathewson Story!!” Since the joke required, in combination, knowledge of the aforementioned movie, the fact that its protagonist was named Christy Brown, and some acquaintance with a middle-level Baseball Hall-of-Famer . . . Well, let’s just say that I got more odd looks than guffaws. Undaunted — in fact, without a daunt to my name, as I was in those days — I swore that I would continue to tell that joke until somebody got it. And got it non-begrudgingly, but actually found it funny. Amazingly enough, someone did. I’m friends with him to this day.

But, come on . . . “no deposit, no re-turtle?” This is priceless stuff. I’m giving this stuff away, people!!