Heh Heh.

That reminds me....

I met a man in 1979 who told me, the evening of our meeting, a joke about a Scottish medical school lecture.  That same man died in 2011….32 years later….and I think I heard him tell that joke probably at least 3 times a year, which makes a total of 96 times. That was 95 times too many, even though he told it well; he was good at accents, and the punch line: “Miss McTavish, ye hae a verrrrryy  darrrrty mind” lent itself to a display of extended rolled r’s

Still: 96 times? Really? That’s a lot. One time I was seated at a table of eight close friends, which included the joke-teller, and someone (not I) suggested, when he said, “That reminds me of…” and we all realized that it was going to remind him of a Scottish medical school, that if he began to tell a joke, everyone who had already heard the joke should raise his or her hand, and if a majority of hands were raised he should desist.

But his feelings were hurt by the suggestion, so we backed down and we all listened to the rolled r’s one more time.

Last night I returned to Maine by bus from Boston, where I had had a speaking engagement the night before. Howard picked me up at the bus station and he took me out to dinner at a nice restaurant where a man was playing (not too loudly) the piano.  I listened for a few moments to the usual cocktail-lounge music, and it reminded me of something, and after a bit I texted my brother, who is 81 years old and lives many states away, and told him: “I have just told Howard a joke that you told me probably thirty years ago, about a composer/pianist who couldn’t get his best song published…”  and my brother replied immediately: “My oldest and favorite joke.”

One time I was having dinner with my two youngest grandsons when they were probably 13 and 15 years old (they’re now in their 20’s) and I asked them each to tell me their best SHORTEST joke.

The older one said: “A dyslexic guy walked into a bra…”

The younger: “Menstrual jokes are never appropriate. Period.”

I’m not sure why I am so focused on jokes at the moment. Maybe because of the upcoming debate, which of course we will watch, and it will remind me that the same guy who always told the Scottish medical school joke had ANOTHER favorite, which he also told well, but everyone had heard it so often that they (we) would recite the punch line in unison long before he came to the end of the narrative that led up to it.  The joke had to do with the romantic habits of cowboys in Montana (or maybe it was Wyoming).

The punch line was “Sheep lie.”

I may find myself muttering that more than once tomorrow night.

Sheep lie.

Baaaaa.