Sunday 15 June 2014

Exploding Cuttlefish

Ive had my fair share of surrealist humour for a while and the lovely thing is that they just never run out of lobsters. Sorry, I mean telephones. Oh, wait, no, rabbits. Bird. Plane. World Trade Center.

This is the absolute peach of a fact with surrealist material, you can get away with anything. Seriously, you can make fun of a cripple with a speech impediment and it'll soon be a 'classic' as long as you look drunk enough. You can talk about Mother Teresa's lack of engagement with the moisturiser market and it'll seem like fair fiscal analysis, just if it's interspersed with images of Jesus trying to waterski wearing a Borat mankini (tell me you dont want to see that, tell me the three of you trying to read this whilst guzzling mugfuls of rocket fuel).

Don't think I have no idea of sensitivity. I know that the last statement was offensive, to Sasha Cohen fans. And to the producers of the movie, who will probably sue the Catholic Church for trademark infringement. That's really where the political correctness and censorship of comedy debate should move towards, more sketches and stand-up that look like the creators were on shrooms sold to them by Speedy Gonzalves (that, is NOT, racial stereotyping).

The other thing appealing about surrealism is that you have a bizarre self-critical process. Laughs are no longer based on being edgy, clever puns, observational dexterity (felt like a fancy phrase). Now its just, hey, how crazy a thing can you say. The trade-off is that you say the craziest possible thing that nobody latches onto it and you are sent to an asylum (the only policy to stop Robert Rankin from flooding bookstore with anti-hamster propaganda), but you take a while and few genocides to get that cuckoo. Most of the time you are just writing about cats in jetpacks discovering prescription medicine for Alzheimer's patients.

If by now you are a tiny bit lost, then its fine. The whole point of the rest of the post was to make the 9/11 joke go down with more ease. And it wasnt a good joke to begin with so it took 2 paragraphs of uninhibited nonsense to wash it down. I guess sometimes I just never know when to stop. Hence, Im qualified to write How I Met Your Mother.

The point I've tried to make poorly is that if you want to tell people a thing they really dont want to hear, then sandwich it between many things they really don't care to understand. Then by the time they've realised what the actual subject matter is, its three weeks later and they're in a laundromat with instructions to the dryer written in Swahili, and they might just think you have a point. So the real question I'm trying to ask is, do you get extra air miles for flying on september 11?

2 comments:

  1. The last line killed it. Pretty dope.

    I guess this has the same issue as indulging in sarcasm- you end up sounding like an idiot in a group who just doesn't get it!

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  2. cheers, mate. yes, quite the same.

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