Dumb Things Aren't Funny

Over the years, I have tried to figure out what my deal was when I was a kid (and maybe even now).  I don’t know if I just had no sense of humor, if I wasn’t mature enough to get jokes, or if I took things too seriously, but I remember the phrase, “that doesn’t make sense!” running through my head, constantly.  If you read my post about being blonde, you might remember my mentioning that I used to be annoyed with “dumb” acting females.  Well, it wasn’t just females, it was pretty much any television character who was not so swift.

One character, in particular, used to drive me absolutely nuts.  Gilligan.  You know, from the Isle.  I don’t know why they named the island after him, unless it was the fact that the only reason they were stuck there so *&^#%( @#  long was because of his stupidity.  He was always screwing things up, and it annoyed the crap out of me.  I didn’t find it funny.  I just wanted them to get off the damn island.

"But, if they get off the island, there won't be a show any more."
"Okay. So?"

Of course, it wasn’t just him; there was much about the show that just didn’t make sense to me.  If they could make these great huts, and the Professor was so knowledgeable, why couldn’t they make a big boat?  Why would two guys flying overhead in an airplane think that some random people in the middle of the uncharted ocean had spelled out “SOL” with burning logs just to wish one of them “happy birthday”?  How did Ginger’s evening gowns and Mr. and Mrs. Howell’s fancy clothes survive the wreck, and mostly everyone else was stuck wearing the same clothes every day?  This stuff was just ridiculous, and no amount of “well, it’s supposed to be funny” could sooth my confused mind.

But, enough about Gilligan.

I would like to think that I had at some very early age enjoyed shows with innocence and simple joy, but even Sesame Street, while mostly acceptable, still had that annoying Count with the repetitive counting thing, and the guy with the cakes who always fell down the steps. I remember watching shows like Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood and Bugs Bunny at a young age and being filled with indignantion.

“What’s so great about those puppets?  Their mouths don’t move and you can tell someone’s hand is making them work.  Do kids believe puppets are real?  They all have the same voice, too!” (I wonder if deep down I was just scared crapless about those creepy things)

“Why doesn’t that guy (Wile E. Coyote) just throw the bomb down instead of strapping it to himself?  He keeps doing that!  Every time!” (funny how I complained about his bad technique but referred to him as a “guy.”)

“Why would someone have a sign in their pocket saying “uh-oh” for when they’re falling off a cliff? He doesn’t even have any pants on, so where did it come from?  And why does he have to show the sign?  He doesn’t have to say 'uh-oh.'  Why isn’t he trying to save himself?”

And on and on and on I went.

Over the years, I gradually learned to chalk some things up to the fact that people had different senses of humor, and it was a waste of time to question why some people found dumb things okay or even “funny.”  I would like to say that I have expanded my humorous sensibilities, and can even force myself to enjoy slapstick type scenarios now and then.  To this day, though, The Three Stooges is still ridiculous, abusive, nonsense.

“Why is that guy hitting the other guy?”
“Why is he so mean!?”
“He’s hurting that other guy! He‘s hurting him!!!”

I don’t know if it’s due to the alleged fact that chicks never get The Three Stooges, or if it’s because Moe was mean and scary and kind of reminded me of Hitler, but that show was horrible then, and is still horrible, now.  Sorry, Men.

After learning to cope with other strange considerations of what was humorous,  I hadn’t really had any doubts or questions on the matter in some time.  Flash forward (or backward?) to a few years ago, when an on line acquaintance randomly said to me “I can has cheezburger? LOL”, and, let the show begin.

I had absolutely no clue as to what he was referring, so he tried to explain it to me.

Me:  I don’t get it.
Him: You never heard of that?  It’s from a website.
Me:  What does it mean?
Him:  It’s from this website that has pictures of cats doing funny things, and there are sayings written on them.
Me:  What does the cheeseburger have to do with it?
Him:  It’s just funny.
Me:  Why is it spelled like that?
Him:  I don’t know, it’s how the cats spell.  Go look at the website.  It’s funny.

(Catherine goes to website.  Soberly clicks through the pictures.)

Me:  Okay, I see it.  I still don’t get it.
Him:  It’s funny stuff! You don’t think that’s funny?  What about the one with the gun?
Me:  I guess.  I just don’t get the spelling thing.  The cats are supposed to be saying this stuff?

Anyway, I guess there are some things that I just never will get.  Call me a stick in the mud, call me an unsympathetic female, call me a Gilligan-hater, whatever.  But, in the end, dumb things are not funny.  They’re just dumb.  So there.