"If I laugh just a little bit, maybe I can recall the way, that I used to be."
- Cat Stevens
There is a tragedy in this country that has fallen between a rock and a hard place amongst the issues of this presidential campaign - the rock being the wedding ring of a same-sex marriage that would, God forbid, sully the sanctity of our robust 50 percent divorce rate and the hard place being a wall which would once and for all confound those wall-fearing Mexicans.
The tragedy is comedy.
Today's youth are at increasing risk of Comedy Deficit Disorder (CDD in medical circles). It's really not the fault of these poor children - these poor, dull, desperately unfunny children. The unfortunate boobs just haven't been privileged with the sound, television-fueled upbringing that our generation was blessed with.
For instance, our generation was the last to be raised by Looney Tunes on Saturday mornings. Just think that there are kids out there who have never known the simple joys of a coyote falling off a cliff. Entire categories of comedy are going unnoticed!
Think about it: Anvil Humor (and yes, it deserves to be capitalized) is virtually nonexistent today. Despite anvils being big, heavy and completely impractical (and therefore hilarious), I can't even remember the last time I've heard a mere passing reference to one outside of playing Oregon Trail. Are they even made anymore? Can they be bought on eBay?
I just hope that somehow, somewhere, there is still some kid out there chuckling when a parachute pack turns out to be holding an anvil instead of a parachute - that or assorted silverware, naturally.
The same goes for Explosion Humor. Somewhere along the way, people decided that violence wasn't funny. All of a sudden, an animated duck's beak getting blown off was too graphic for impressionable children, who were clearly on the verge of going on a beak-maiming rampage.
Call me old fashioned, but I don't like the idea of kids having to trade the entertainment of watching an inept hunter strike a match only to find he's surrounded by crates marked "TNT" for the no doubt thrill-a-minute ride it must be watching a guy named Bob build and a girl named Dora explore.
Of course, even without the early comedic grounding of puddy tats and wascally wabbits, the culture could have been saved. But kids have also been deprived of the most essential pop-culture comedic reference point: "Saturday Night Live" reruns. Ever since Comedy Central dropped them in favor of Mad TV, kids are growing up without a Church Lady's chance in hell at knowing even the most basic Dana Carvey impersonations.
A Matt Foley motivational speech may not be enough anymore. Ladies and gentlemen, we have unwittingly opened up Pandora's Box - and alas, there is no dick inside it.
If laughter is the best medicine, our kids are all in a lot of trouble. Remember the good old days, way back in 1999, when the Super Bowl launched the premiere of "Family Guy?" Well, compare that to America's chosen face of national comedy this past World Series: Dane Cook.
Really? That's where we're at right now for American comedy? What chance does a kid have to grow up with a solid funny bone when the greatest American pastime is paired with a comedian who doesn't perform comedy? He doesn't even tell jokes. He just enunciates enthusiastically. That's what we want? A generation whose preferred comedy style is articulation?
That's as absurd as telling the Cookie Monster that cookies aren't part of a healthy diet. Wait, what? They did do that? Thufferin' thuccotash!
Ari Goldberg is a senior majoring in History and can be reached at Ari.Goldberg@tufts.edu.
