Mr. BruAl welcomes questions on subjects such as sports, politics, sex, dogs and combinations thereof. It is not our intent to commence a dialog with folks like yourself, people with time on their hands to find and read mundane stuff like this. We merely wish to inflict our personality on innocents here and abroad, to lower the level of discourse to our own. Frankly, our friends and family are sick and tired of this stuff. So we blog. Typically, as there are almost never any real ones, we make up our own questions.
I wish to be seen as a true highbrow, one whose education exceeds his intelligence. I desperately wish to sound smart and funny on a wide range of subjects, though my knowledge is an intellectual North Platte River, a mile wide and an inch deep. As a transplanted Hoosier, I have learned to make fun of things I don’t understand. One of my personality defects is an inability to forget extremely old jokes and punchlines which, for the purposes of this blog, I will always italicize.
I remember Woody Allen’s riff on the two jokes that form the root of every other joke on earth. “Yes, and such small soivings.” “But doc, we need the eggs!” My theory of humor suggests that there are, instead, upper and lower limits, aesthetically speaking, within which all jokes fall. At the low end of the range is the pun. No, you’re grammar. At the high end of the range is the gorgeous first syllable twist. The difference between a rooster and a lawyer is the rooster clucks defiance. All other jokes and joke formats fall in between. We will try to stay toward the top of the range. We will occasionally fail. This column is usually R-rated, without using four letter words, but often veiled references thereto. “Kid, you can’t join the Navy! Your parents are married! Come join the Marines!”
Let’s get started.