Pool of blood? Not funny. Someone slipping in it? Laugh riot.

Comedy secrets of the Conservative Catskills as revealed by Oleg Atbashian :

I have always maintained that humor is funny when it strikes you as true. It’s a sudden realization of the truth that rises to the surface inside a bubble of silly laughter. But those who live in a different moral universe, feeding off different versions of the truth, will not be amused if jokes don’t strike them as true; nothing will surface.

Remember Gary Cooper in High Noon? (I watched it a few days ago.) His character made a moral choice to stand for what’s right against the wishes of the “world community.” The judge ran away, the pastor washed his hands, the friends stayed home, the pacifist Quaker bride left him, and the saloon was full of corrupt drunks and cowards who cheered for the bandits. And as Gary Cooper stood alone in the deserted street preparing to die for the truth, suppose the saloon crowd would start making jokes about how Cooper talks funny, how uncultured he is, how he’s playing a lone cowboy, how he’s doing things unilaterally, and how war on the bandits is, in fact, illegal.

Sound familiar? No matter how professionally crafted those jokes might be, they would not strike me as funny and I would not laugh at them because they would be morally offensive. Not only would they miss the truth — they would ultimately be against the truth. Because no matter what arguments the saloon crowd may present for moral relativity, the truth in this situation is only one — and you either strike it or not.

That’s why I never laugh at the jokes made by Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Bill Maher, David Letterman, and the rest of them. They remind me of the offensive saloon cads in High Noon.

Not to heckle Oleg but I think it would be safe to say that even John Yoo would step in to stop the unwarranted torturing of that particular analogy. Sorry O. Please continue…

By the same token, the “liberals” who laugh at Colbert’s jokes won’t laugh at mine. But they used to laugh at my jokes when I hung out with them in Clinton-era New York, where morals were murky and the truth was “unknowable.” Everybody was free to choose their own version of the truth from the extensive menu — and nobody could force them to do otherwise. But then one day, against everybody’s will, the truth about our place in the world was revealed to us in all its clarity. There was no way to escape what happened on 9/11/2001. The 57 varieties of the truth shrunk to just one choice — and you could either take it or leave it.

And so, the New Vaudeville was born.

Knock knock
Who’s there?
Waterboard.
Waterboard who?
Waterboard brown people.

Thanks. I’ll be here all week. Try the Freedom Fries…