Ah, St. Patrick's Day is upon us — a fine time to restore our sense of humor.
More than 20 years ago, British sociologist Christie Davies wrote in “The Mirth of Nations” that Americans were becoming as nervous about swapping jokes as people once were in communist Eastern Europe — a warning he issued well before cancel culture.
Which makes me long for the jokes my dad and Uncle Mike — a child of Irish immigrants — shared on Sundays, such as this one:
“Mike,” says Pat, “If you were stranded on a desert island, who would you like most to be with?”
“Me uncle Malachy,” says Mike.
“Why him?” asks Pat.
“He’s got a boat,” says Mike.
Davies noted that nearly every country has a neighboring group that is the butt of such jokes — in England it was the Irish, in France the Belgians and in America the Poles.
Though the English may have told Irish jokes to mock the Irish, Americans of Irish descent share them to celebrate Irish wit, as this one shows:
“Father,” says Pat in the confessional, “I’ve had an adulterous affair.”
“Tell me,” says the priest, “was it Molly O’Reilly?”
“No, Father.”
“Kathleen Murphy?”
“No, Father.”
“Bridget Kelly?” says the priest.
“Father, I can’t tell you her name.”
“Then I won’t absolve your sins.”
Pat goes outside and is greeted by Mike.
“Did you get absolved of your sins?” says Mike.
“No,” says Pat, “but I got three really good leads!”
Irish jokes have always worked this way — mischief, self-deprecation and a punch line that turns the whole story upside down.
Davies argued that many academics see evil intentions in the average joke. Freud thought jokes were a sneaky way of saying something demeaning about a person or a group.
But Davies said hogwash.
He said a good joke clarifies complex feelings and hard truths. It cuts to the heart of a matter better than any speech or law or government policy — and certainly brings levity, as this one does:
When the jury declared Paddy not guilty of robbery, he rushed to the judge and shouted:
“Does that mean I get to keep the money then?”
Recent surveys by the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression — including their latest College Free Speech Rankings — show that a significant portion of Americans, especially younger ones, admit they self-censor their speech for fear of backlash or professional consequences.
That’s unfortunate because when people are fearful of expressing their thoughts, humor is often the first casualty.
Ronald Reagan understood the power of humor. In this joke, he used his Irish wit to expose our common frustration with politics:
Two men, a minister and a politician, arrive at the Pearly Gates. St. Peter takes them to their accommodations.
The minister is given the keys to a rooming house. The politician is given the keys to a mansion.
“I’m confused,” says the politician. “Why does a man of the cloth get such modest accommodations, while I get such opulence?”
“Well,” says the minister. “We’ve got millions of ministers up here, but you’re the only politician who ever made it.”
The Irish have long known that humor uplifts the human heart as it celebrates our common humanity.
Surely we can all agree on this one?
“Knock, knock!”
“Who's there?”
“Irish!”
“Irish who?”
“Irish you a happy St. Patrick's Day!”
Find Tom Purcell’s syndicated column, humor books and funny videos of his dog, Thurber, at TomPurcell.com. Email him at Tom@TomPurcell.com.
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