Voodoo Time Dot Com

One in every 123 U.S. workers is employed by Wal-Mart.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the origin and purpose of humor. How did it develop? What purpose does it serve? In Isaac Asimov’s short story “Jokester“, a man discovered that the origin of humor could be traced to an experiment on human beings conducted by an alien race. The catch was, if any human ever found out, the experiment would be ceased immediately.

But let’s, for the sake of argument, suppose that humor is not of extraterrestrial origin. Is humor then just a random tangent of evolution? Or, has humor somehow contributed to our success as a species?

I like to think it’s the latter. Humor is an amazingly efficient community-builder. There are few ways to endear oneself to others faster than by making them laugh. After all, in study after study, women cite a well-developed sense of humor as the most highly desirable personality trait in a potential mate. Men also desire a healthy sense of humor in their mate (as a close second to “big boobies”, of course).

On the other hand, I concede that the former theory is just as plausible. In spite of ourselves, one of the funniest things in the world is when someone (else) gets hurt. On the surface, this does not seem conducive to the survival of a species. Like the human tailbone, it could be that humor is purely vestigial; a throwback to a behavior that used to be important to early humanoids for some now unknown reason. Maybe laughter, directed at the village idiot, focused the community’s attention on behaviors that were likely to result in injury - ensuring that they learn from the mistakes of others. Or it could be that humor is an inborn pity response. Since the idiot supplies entertainment to the community, there is a selfish motivation for preserving the safety of the idiot rather than leaving his goofy ass out for the wolves. This would explain the continued existence of idiots over these hundreds of thousands of years of human evolution.

So when did humor cease to be the exclusive domain of idiots? I suspect it’s become a social cameleon move. In human society, there are only a few surefire ways to get people to like you:

1. Be beautiful - Good-looking people get attention, and are generally well-liked regardless of personality.

2. Be large - Larger, stronger people are the warriors and protectors. Even if they’re complete jerks, it pays to have one or two on your side.

3. Be a relative - We feel a sort of responsibility to those who share a common bloodline - no matter how stupid they are.

4. Be funny.

Only one of these traits is not inborn. If you are otherwise unremarkable, the best way to get attention is to make people laugh. I suspect that intelligent people eventually picked up on this. Smart cavemen probably did not win a lot of friends by chatting around the fire about quantum physics. Smart people only impress other smart people by being intelligent. Primeval nerds might have understood that talking about idiots evoked the same reaction as actually being one - only without the stigma. Thus the comedian was born.

With this in mind, it seems that all comedy really comes down to the exposure of foolishness. After all, the best jokes are all about misunderstandings that expose foolishness. These can be in the first-, second-, third-person, or hypothetical.

First-person: “A guy came up to me and said, ‘I haven’t had a bite in weeks.’ so I bit him.”

Second-person: “Did you know the word ‘gullible‘ isn’t in the dictionary?”

Third-person: “So, this guy walks into a bar…”

Hypothetical: “I just flew in from New York, and boy, are my arms tired.”

See? All foolishness and absurdity. But there are exceptions. For instance, why are bodily functions funny? A lot of people (our mothers, grandmothers, and wives) like to pretend that they’re not, but in reality, deep down inside, everyone thinks boogers and farts are funny on some level. It might be that the baser boldily functions are funny because only a fool would perform them around others. I’m not sure about that though. I suspect that farts are funny because they’re magic.

So, in the end, humor is all about farts and fools. Kind of like this website.

Bye for now.

There are some 40,000 330,000 species of beetle. There are more beetles on the planet than any other animal.

Beetles have very complex circulatory systems, including some 8-10 hearts, which seems to suggest that stabbing is not the most efficient way to do away with a beetle.

(Edited to revise number of species.)

I saw this at F.A.O. Schwartz yesterday…

How any child could get to sleep with this alien zombie baby staring back at them is beyond me. This seems like the kind of thing you get as a gift from your weird great-aunt who lives six states away… or maybe H.R. Giger.

Sweet dreams…

The most frequently spoken word on the entire planet is… “OK”

Well I’ve been neglecting the site again. While that is largely inconsequential, the reason why I haven’t been posting is not.

I’ve been busy.

I got a job.

I can afford to eat again.

And it is good.

Along with the entire scientific community, I learned (as Einstein suspected) that the speed of gravity is the same as the speed of light (i.e., 186,000 miles per second or 299,792,458 meters per second).

So, if the Sun suddenly disappeared, Earth would shoot off into space at precisely the same time the lights went out (about 8.3 minutes after the Sun went kablooey).

What a coincidence that I found this in the newspaper this morning. Why, just yesterday I said to myself “…if only I had some creamy chocolate in a tube.“

Author L. Frank Baum (author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz) chose the name “Oz” for his fictitious land after glancing at the second drawer of his filing cabinet.

A-N
O-Z

Spending time over the holidays with family, including a young cousin, made me think a little about how many things change between childhood and adulthood. Now, don’t leave. I’m not about to wax poetic about the blissful naïveté of youth or anything so cliché. There also will be no further usage of words containing accents or umlauts.

What I’m talking about are things I am no longer inclined to do in my “old age”. Somewhere between the ages of 2 and 25 years, I lost certain urges that, when viewed with adult eyes, no longer hold the attraction they once held. This is a little disheartening. I don’t know about anyone else, but as a child I made certain promises to myself. I considered one of these promises to be the most holy and sacred of all. As a child, I promised myself that I would eat ice cream for dinner everyday of my adult life.

I have not kept this promise. In fact, I am fairly sure that I have yet to eat ice cream for dinner even once. Six-year-old Justis would be so disappointed if he knew.

This reminds me of a terrible joke a friend’s adult brother played on us once when I was young. We were at a supermarket with him, and as we drooled our way down the candy aisle, he stopped us and said “Guys, see all this candy?”

We acknowledged our awareness of the candy with a slack-jawed nod.

He continued, “I can afford to buy one of each of these candies, and someday so will you.” We drooled some more. “But, ” he added, “when that day comes, you won’t want to eat candy anymore.” And he was basically right.

The very thought of one of my usual pre-teen candy binges makes my mouth pucker and my stomach roil out a warning against any such foolishness. Gone forever are the days of ice cream dinners. The means are there, but the motivation is gone. I once chose breakfast cereals based solely upon the value of the toy inside the box. But these days, dietary fiber is its own reward.

After a quarter-century, I am a mere shell of my former self. I can no longer spin around in circles without vomiting. I do not get up early on Saturday mornings, unless I’ve foolishly agreed to drive someone to the airport.

Tomorrow I’m eating ice cream for dinner. Then I’m going to stay up all night.

You’re not the boss of me.

Bye for now.