Bad Joke Friday jokes

What is a blog on genre without a collection of bad jokes?

By consequence: over on Twitter it's what they call #BadJokeFriday. It seems quite necessary as we are all isolating from each others to avoid coronavirus. So, in the spirit of the day I've formed my daily reminder as a call for giggly bad jokes. You can see the tweet and the jokes first hand here. But here are the jokes the tweet draws out. I'll add more as they appear. I guarantee you a groany experience. 

Incidentally, (and not speaking too much about genre labels this time around), what is known as a "dad joke" in English is called an "onkelvits" (uncle joke) in Danish. I have no idea why lame jokes are parental in English, but avuncular in Danish.  

Update: I'm going to add in later jokes as they appear on my twitter timeline. Just for the giggles.

1. Q. What do you call a snowman’s dog? A. A slush puppy!

2. Man at vet:

"I think my dog is a blacksmith""Why do you think that?""Because every time I kick him he makes a bolt for the door" (Note: No pets were harmed during the making of this joke) 

3. A priest, a nun, and a rabbit walk into a bar. The rabbit says, "I think I might be a typo." 

4. Due to this year's increase in the twitter character limit, I need to rethink my seasonal joke about the Easter Rabbi 

 

 5.  Name 3 fish, beginning and ending with K

Killer Shark,

Kwiksave Haddock,

Kilmarnock - a plaice in Scotland

6. I would make a joke, but I broke my arm and I now have no sense of humerus. 

 7. Why have elephants got big ears? Because Noddy wouldn’t pay the ransom. (Literally the only joke I know)

 8. What do you call a fish with no eyes?A fsh.

9. Q. How many surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb? A fish. 

10.  So, the Past, the Present,and the Future all walked into a bar at the same time. The barman asked ‘Right gents, which of you was here first?’ It was Tense. 

11.   You want a bad joke? You asked for it. Q: What have Henry VIII and Winnie the Pooh in common?A: They have the same middle name.

12. Frog's car broke down.Got toad away. 

13. An Englishman, a Frenchman, an Italian and a German were sitting in a room. A man enters and asks "May I join you?" and the reply was... "Yes" "Oui" "Si" "Ja". 

14. Have you heard the one about the Republican Senator who thought Muffin the Mule was a sex offence? 

15. Due to the worsening situation, I've upgraded the musical accompaniment to my hand washing to Wagner's Ring Cycle. Doesn't leave much time for anything else, but safety first. 

16. Q. What do dogs out walking leave behind, that's long, brown and sticky? A. A stick! 

And here begins the new set of jokes ref the update above.

17. Q. How many guitarists does it take to play 'stairway to heaven?'

A. Apparently all of them. 

18. Professor X welcomes a new recruit: “Greetings, friend! What, pray, is your super skill??”

- “Why, Hindsight, professor!”

- “Well that’s not very useful, is it??” 

- “Ah, yes ... I see that now” 

19. My friend thinks girls in uniforms are sexy, but it's all the same to me! 

19½: My wife thinks men in camouflage are sexy, but I can't see it myself. 

20.  I can't find my hi-viz jacket.

- You should demand your money back.

21. How does a poorly baby sheep get to hospital? By Lambulance. 

22. What do you get if you cross an elephant with a rhino?...Elephino

23. I bought some shoes off a drug dealer- I don’t know what he laced them with but I’ve been tripping all day!

24. And God said to John “ come forth and you shall have eternal life” but John came fifth and won a toaster. 

25. Yesterday I changed a lightbulb, crossed the street and walked into a pub. My life's a joke.

26. John Travolta got Corona, he's got chills, they multiplying but now he's ok, turns out it was just a Saturday Night Fever... so he is Stayin' Alive.

27. Tribal chief hit by ceremonial chair falling from his attic. The headline: “People in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones.”

28. My girlfriend left me because I was too insecure.

...
....
.....
......

No, wait, she's back, she was just fetching coffee. 

29. I was driving along & my boss rang & said 'You've been promoted' & I swerved.Then he rang up a 2nd time & said "You've been promoted again' & I swerved again. He rang a 3rd time & said 'You're managing director' & I went into a tree.I told the policeman I careered off the road. 

30. A friend in Germany tells me everyone’s panic buying sausages and cheese. They fear the Wurst Käse scenario. 

31. Why don't ants get sick? Because they have little anti bodies. 

32. Q: Where does the General keep his army?A: Up his sleeve-y. 

33. Someone keeps topping up my allotment with soil overnight - it's a mystery.The plot thickens. 

35. My wife had just found out I replaced our bed with a trampoline. She hit the roof. 

36. -Waiter, there’s a fly in my soup!

 -I know sir, it’s Fly Soup. 

37. "Your test results have come back." "OK, doc, what's the verdict?""You have acute angina.""Look, I came here for help, not be be ogled at!"

38. "Doctor, I think I'm allergic to leather!" "Why's that?" "Every time I go to bed with my shoes on, I wake up with a headache." 

39. "Doctor, I think I'm allergic to tonic water"

"Why's that?"

"No matter what I mix it with, I end up stone drunk!"

The "self-own" as retroactive genre

The screengrabbed tweet below is a clean example of a genre that is sometimes called a "self-own". 

(Screenshot by Twitter user David Harrison @davidlharrison)

The tweet itself has suffered a fate which is known as being "ratioed" on Twitter. Being "ratioed" means that the number of comments to a tweet strongly outpaces the number of likes and retweets. It's not a good thing, because it invariably means that the tweet has been met with a storm of negative replies (a positive respondent would also like and sometimes retweet the tweet.)  As I am writing this, the tweet has risen to 1,300 likes and 305 retweets, which is quite good, but also to a staggering 6,700 comments—which is downright awful. 

The replies are merciless. They point out that the Hotel Imperial in Vienna is a Mariott Hotel, and thus American owned. They point out that Austria's government up till recently was closely allied with the far right. They point out that the Austrian government cannot be held responsible for the state of elevators in Austrian hotels, because they are privately owned, since Austria is nowhere near a socialist country. They point to the staircases. Also, there is incivility going on. Loads and loads of often highly original incivility. it's all very entertaining—and very well deserved.

Without speaking of it as a genre, Merriam-Webster's listing of "Words We're Watching" includes this beautiful description of the self-own: 

On social media, people will often try to put themselves in positions where they look smarter than the person with whom they are arguing, only to have it blow up in their faces. They might, for example, inadvertently highlight evidence that contradicts their point, or simply present themselves in a way that comes off as more pathetic than the person they are trying to upstage. It is during such instances that we become witness to the glorious phenomenon of the self-own. (here) 

One could almost think that the description was written for Luntz' tweet; and it's a very good genre summary. The genre label "self-own", thus, describes a social action that backfires badly and in which a person tries to do one thing, usually something not very pleasant, only to experience a well-deserved backfire. The person has tried to "dominate" (the word is, again, from Merriam-Webster's description) someone or something, but finds that the only person being dominated is himself or herself.

Now, it's fairly clear that the genre of the self-own is not one, most people would actually attempt. In Rhetorical Genre Studies, a movement I seem to belong to without having ever actually applied for membership, we usually see genres as recurrent forms of discursive action. You need something done, and the genre is your way to do it. 

All this is well and good in most cases, but there are interesting exceptions. The self-own is one such exception. It is a retrospective genre label, one that is attached to an utterance after the fact; once it becomes clear that the utterance has actually turned into a self-own.

One of the key concepts in contemporary genre theory is Anne Freadman's rightfully famous concept "uptake", it describes genre use as based on an inherent "bi-directionality". The fundamental idea is that the genre identity of a given utterance is never completely fixed, but can be modified by later genre uses. The self-own demonstrates this by being a genre that can well-nigh only be applied after the original genre use. As Freadman describes it, a genre use invites certain uptakes, but cannot fully secure them. The genre identity of any given utterance is thus subject to a negotiation—and at times an interpretive power struggle. 

The self-own is by its very definition an agonistic genre, as it not only retroactively defines the utterance in a negative light, but portrays the person making the utterance as a someone who has brought the backlash on herself or himself, and who deserves the backlash to the full. Frank Luntz is a case in point.

There is however, at least one way—and dare I say: a very sensible one—in which a genre user can use the existence of the self own pro-actively. It has to do with securing and inviting uptakes. The Luntz tweet invited the uptake that turned it into a self-own, even if that uptake was unwanted. In the process it failed to secure the positive, affirming uptake it was aiming for. However, it remains fully possible to stop and think before speaking. And one thought might be: "does this utterance invite uptakes that would turn it into a a self-own". This line of thinking is highly recommended as it can lead to all kinds of good things—genre wise, discursive, socially, and otherwise. 

But, of course, if you are the kind of person liable to post bigoted stupidities, hoping for reflection and discursive pre-meditation may be too big a genre ask. 

Metodekogebogen som genre

Mie Femø Nielsen og Svend Skriver (red.): Metodekogebogen – 130 analysemetoder fra humaniora og samfundsvidenskab. København: Upress. 2019. Link.

Den foreliggende bog formelig indbyder til en genreanalyse, fordi den simpelthen bærer en genre som sin titel. Og ikke en hvilken som helst genre, men det, min gode kollega Jacob Ølgaard Nyboe ville kalde en ”genresignatur", altså en unik genreangivelse, der på den ene eller den anden måde vrider eksisterende genremærkater af led for at angive en ny og original vinkel, som værket ønsker at opfattes ud fra. 

Bogen er en ”metodekogebog”. Det vil sige, at den fører to kendte genreangivelser sammen, ”kogebog” og ”metodebog”, idet den forudsætter, at læseren er i stand til at forbinde noget med begge de to genrer og også er i stand til at forestille sig et møde mellem dem, der skaber en ny helhed, som henter elementer fra dem begge.

                  Men det er svært at overse, at denne tredje slags bog alligevel er betydeligt meget mere en metodebog end en kogebog. Der er et hierarki imellem de to genrer. Den er mere det andet end det ene. Det kan man gå helt biblioteksmæssigt til. Når man skal sætte den ind i sin reol, sætter man den sammen med sine metodebøger, ikke sammen med sine kogebøger. Replikvekslingen ”Hvad skal vi have til middag i aften, skat” – ”Det ved jeg ikke lige, jeg finder et eller andet i metodekogebogen”, virker simpelthen ikke helt efter hensigten.

                  Man kunne også sige det på en anden måde: Genreforskningen af i dag analyserer i meget høj grad genrer efter brug eller social funktion. Denne bog har sin funktion som metodebog. Det spejler sig da også klart, når man ser både dens eksplicitte målgruppe, universitetsstuderende og studerende fra professionshøjskoler, og dens indledning. Man skal altså rigtig langt ind i den indledning, før noget der bare ligner en kogebog dukker op.

                  Betyder det så at titlen – og den medfølgende genreangivelse er en billigt salgstrick eller i værste fald et bedrag. Slet ikke. Faktisk forudsætter bogen, at læseren er i stand til at gennemskue nøjagtig dette. Man skal kunne se at dette er en metodebog, der i et vist omfang leger, at den er en kogebog. Det giver sig udslag både formelt og i bogens formodede funktion. Formelt set betyder det, at vi forfattere har skullet klemme os ind i nogle meget stramme rammer. Vi har skullet angive ingredienser for vores bidrag, og vi har Gudhjælpemig også skullet angive – eller for nogles vedkommende: opfinde – en fremgangsmåde, så man kan fået en fuld opskrift ud af de enkelte opslag.

                  Det har vi naturligvis skullet, fordi teksten har en bestemt modtagergruppe og en bestemt funktion. Den er en metodekogebog, fordi den skal instruere sin læser i at lave retterne. Læseren skal ikke bare blive klogere på metoderne, men lære at bruge dem selv. Derfor spændetrøjen til os arme forfattere en mulighed for læseren. Læseren skal kunne lave retten; Meningen er, at man efter endt læsning af et opslag mest muligt skal kunne gennemføre den analysemetode, der er beskrevet i oplægget.

                  Kan man så det, kunne man spørge. Kan opskrifterne laves? Det må vist være helt afhængigt af læserforudsætninger og af den individuelle opskrifts sværhedsgrad. Efter at have lavet et par opslag i emner, jeg ikke mente at vide noget som helst om, så kan jeg rapportere, at jeg gerne serverer en ”Digital kildekritik”, med forbehold godt vil forsøge at opkoge en ”SWOT”, men til gengæld slet ikke tør servere en ”Stakeholderanlyse”. Den steak bliver branket.

Til gengæld er jeg ret ubekymret over for, om nogle af retterne er for svære at lave, for opslagene i sig selv er ikke for svære at læse. Jeg tror, jeg faktisk lærte mest af at læse om stakeholderanalysen, også selvom jeg ikke kan lave sådan en ting. Og én fordel mere ved kogebogstilgangen: Den er utrolig praktisk, så jeg gætter på, at hvis man bruger disse artikler som en indgangsvinkel til at læse om en metode, så har man fra begyndelsen en dejlig anvendelsesorienteret tilgang i sin læsning. Det at læse metode kan hurtigt blive uhyre langhåret og komme langt væk fra noget, man faktisk kan bruge. At begynde sin læsning med en opskrift, kan hjælpe en til at holde fokus på, at den metode man læser om, faktisk skal bruges.

Redaktørerne har bedt om forslag til senere udgaver, så allerede nu: to forslag, baseret på, at vi har at gøre med en slags kogebog. Jeg ville godt kende lidt mere til de færdigheder, man under alle omstændigheder skal bruge til at lave retterne, og jeg ville også gerne have lidt råvarekundskab. Eller sagt på en anden måde. Det ville være fantastisk med en indledende gennemgang af i hvert fald nogle grundtræk i god videnskabelig praksis, så de værste uredelighed- og plagiatproblemer kunne aflæres fra start. Og, råvareingredienser, det ville være utrolig gavnligt og oplysende at få et indledende opslag om ”data”. Dette her, man gør til sine ingredienser eller gør til genstand for sin metodiske kogekunst, hvad er det overhovedet for en størrelse.

Men alt dette her er jo bare glubsk sult i mødet med en bog, der allerede er rigtig Karl Stegger-lækker. Så tillykke med det. Tillykke til forfatterne, vi har alle skrevet noget, der vil blive brugt; hurra! Tillykke til redaktørerne og godt skuldret! Og ikke mindst: tillykke til alle de studerende på universiteter og professionshøjskoler, der endelig har fået en metodebog, der er rigtig god at koge efter. Find de åndelige potter og gryder frem og slib de analytiske knive.

Tale holdt ved receptionen for ovenstående værk på Institut for Nordiske Studier og Sprogvidenskab 30/1-2019. Forfatteren har bidraget til værket med opslaget ”Genreanalyse”