Daily Archives: 30 May 2013

Another Meager Attempt at Humor

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Q: Why did the elephant paint its fingernails red?
A: So it could hide in the strawberry patch.

Q: How can you tell that an elephant is in the bathtub with you?
A: By the smell of peanuts on its breath.

Q: How do you shoot a blue elephant?
A: With a blue elephant gun.
Q: How do you shoot a yellow elephant?
A: Have you ever seen a yellow elephant?
Q: How do you shoot a red elephant?
A: Hold his trunk shut until he turns blue, and then shoot him with the blue elephant gun.
Q: How do you shoot a purple elephant?
A: Paint him red, hold his trunk shut until he turns blue, and then shoot him with the blue elephant gun.

***

A moth goes into a podiatrist’s office.  The doctor asks the moth, “What seems to be the problem?”

The moth says, “Doc, I don’t know where to start.  I feel like my whole life has been a waste of time.  I’ve been at the same job for twenty years and I don’t just hate it, I’m revolted by it.  I can barely summon the strength to drag myself in every day but I have no choice because I’m in debt up to my compound eyes.  The idea of doing this job for years more just makes me sick.  I’ve grown apart from my wife.  She’s no longer the woman I loved, and I can barely stand to be around her but I feel guilty for feeling that way about her.  Doc, it just eats me up inside.  My daughter’s shacked up at eighteen with a guy I can’t stand who’s terrible for her and she dropped out of school, but she won’t listen to reason and it breaks my heart.  And my son…  Doc, I just don’t know if I love my own son, because he reminds me of everything I hate about myself.  I look into his eyes and see the same disgusting, sniveling cowardice I know everyone sees in mine.  I can’t even work up the courage to pull out my gun and blow my own goddamned brains out.  I feel like my entire life is nothing more than a fragile web of lies just barely holding me back from the screaming abyss.”

The podiatrist says to the moth, “You do seem to have a lot of problems, but I’m just a podiatrist.  You need to see a therapist, a psychiatrist even.  Why did you come to me?”

The moth says, “The light was on.”

***

In my life I’ve been through plenty.  When I was three years old, my parents got a dog.  I was jealous of the dog, so they got rid of me.

I told my doctor I broke my arm in two places.  He told me to keep out of those places.

I was so ugly that when I was born, the doctor slapped my mother.

***

A performative poet of Hibernia
Rhymed himself into a hernia
He became quite adept
At this practice, except
For the occasional non-sequitur

Finally:

Three blind mice walk into a bar, but they are unaware of their surroundings so to derive humor from it would be exploitative.

Immigration and Integration

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Michael Adebolajo, the terrorist who butchered a British soldier, is along with his accomplice, a man who has no use for British culture, British economics, British politics, British mores, British anything.  He is a soldato [sic] in an Islamic jihad that seeks to destroy Great Britain.

[Founder of the now-banned Islamist organization al-Muhajiroun Anjem] Choudary says that he was [Omar Mohammed, a radical Islamist cleric who urges his followers to fight the jihad] Bakri’s right hand.  Working together, he says, they aimed to rally Muslim youth throughout the country against the policies of the British government and usher them onto the streets.

When he is asked how he wants to change the UK, Choudary smiles gently.  …  He insists that he wants to introduce Sharia law throughout the country as well as ban alcohol and gambling.  And, of course, abolish the monarchy.  He wants to transform Buckingham Palace into a mosque.  Choudary sees jihad as a means of defending Islam.  He has praised the 9/11 terrorists—and he refuses to condemn the London bombers from 2005.

And

A friend of Choudary’s steps up to the table.  He calls himself Mohammed and also wears a black robe.  He is in an excellent mood.  “The entire country’s afraid now,” he says with glee.  Mohammed says that he happened to run into Adebolajo a few weeks ago, “but didn’t notice anything special about him.”

These people did not “immigrate” into Great Britain in order to participate in and take advantage of all that Great Britain and British culture had to offer.  They came to radically change the very culture that made the country great, to make it over into the country from which these people came.

They refuse to assimilate into British society; instead they demand that British society assimilate into their homeland’s society.

The British have no obligation to accommodate them, nor do the British have an obligation to accept into their country people such as these—indeed, no nation has an inherent obligation to accept any individual or group who wishes, for any reason, to enter.

The British should accommodate these people and their ilk in one respect, though: accept their refusal to assimilate—send them back home.  The safety, the very identity, of the country demands it.

And so does the safety and identity of the United States demand similar responses to those who do not wish to integrate themselves into that which has made us so great, but who, on the contrary, wish to radically change us, to make us over into an extension of their homeland.