Effective Humor

We are coming towards the end of the semester, and so far in the course, we have looked at lots of humor/rhetoric pieces. Still, with each piece we read, I always wonder about much of an impression they leave on their readers (both when they were first published and in modern times). Last week, we saw pieces from political humorists desiring to expose the truth about the superficial world of politics, and how politicos are obsessed with achieving a positive image (but never in the real work that creates one, instead, opting to manipulate the press into creating one for them). I surmise it is a safe assumption to presume most people already think politics is a world of image-laden people, and certainly, the pieces we looked at showed this, but what now? As a reader, do you feel like doing something to change it, or do you just take the story as a funny reminder of what you already knew? This all points to a larger question I often ponder when encountering humor, namely, can humor be effective?

When looking at humor in my other literature classes, this question has come up before. There are good cases on both sides. Some say it is not effective, because when people laugh, they disregard the seriousness of the author’s argument, but the converse is also true, since opponents will point out that laughter does not always mean something is funny, because oftentimes, people laugh to relieve their discomfort or mask their true feelings in a situation. Therefore, even though a reader is laughing, the piece might have more of an effect on them then anyone imagines.

As far as my own beliefs go, I feel that the more you know about the author, the more likely you are to be effected by the message in their humorous piece. For example, in one of my classes, a Native American author we read (Diane Burns), wrote the rather humorous poem, “Sure You Can Ask Me A Personal Question.” (Before reading the rest of this post, try reading it once over, and see what you think about it). Now, after we had read it, someone in our class gave a presentation on her life, and showed us this poem:

Our people
slit open the badger
to see the tomorrows
in its blood.
Now
look at me
and see what our
tomorrows hold

It is not funny, but it is very revealing about its author. The humor of the first poem is not as laughable when you consider the frustration the second one shows (since in it, we can more easily see the anger Native Americans have with the treatment they’ve received throughout the years). Looking at this poem in conjunction with the other facts of her tumultuous life (sadly ending at age 50 from drugs and alcohol), pushed our class to decide that the first one was meant more as “bitingly sarcastic” humor than as “ha ha” funny. Knowing this, we began to see the humor as a means of relaying a bigger hurt rather than some mere joke or observation.

Needless to say, the overall effect was momentous, and the message of her poem struck me as much more powerful than any humor piece has so far. However, had I never learnt anything about her, I probably would not of considered her humor in such a serious light, and might still be merely laughing at something that deserves more.

Burns, Diane. "Sure You Can Ask Me A Personal Question." 18 April 2009. http://cc.ysu.edu/~asleskov/sure,_you_can_ask_me.htm.

Ferguson, Sarah. "Obituary: Diane Burns, Native American Lower East Side Poet." The Villager. February 2007. 18 April 2009. http://www.thevillager.com/villager_198/dianeburnsnative.html.