What's Funny About Words (Guest Blogger)

At my improv class this week, one woman killed the rest of the class with a scene where she described her partner's butt as "two turkeys just bobbing up and down toward the end zone." (I'd explain, but it would take too long. Just know it was damn funny.) The whole scene that followed was hilarious, but it was the "turkey" that put it over the top. "Turkey," all by itself, is a funny word. That "urr" sound is a funny noise to me. And the hard "k" sound has often been cited by comedy writers as something that helps make a word funny. No one has really ever been able to explain why.

For some time now, I've wanted to explore what makes a word "funny." I realized there were certain words I fall back on when I need to be off-the-cuff funny: "Cats," "squirrel," "perturbed," and "pants" are some of them.

So I mentioned on Facebook (you can "Like" right here. WordNerdGirl likes to be "liked.") that I was looking for other people's ideas about what make a word funny when my über-funny, ultra-wordy friend, Dave Ankers, offered some of his thoughts. Then a few more. And then some more. Poor guy is recovering from a Mardi Gras-induced broken ankle and the cabin fever is getting to him. But what he had to say was very interesting and covered way more ground than I ever could with four kids pulling me away from the keyboard every 2 minutes. So I decided to turn today's blog post over to him. Take it away Dave...

Dave Ankers' Random Thoughts About Funny Words
Some random thoughts about funny words, as I procrastinate my hobbling out on crutches to pick up both ground beef and my cholesterol-reducing medication (without irony):

Words can be "funny" in as many ways as there are words and ways to use them, I think. Some word can elicit an amused response just due to how they sound phonetically to us. Haboob. Hurly-burly. Rattletrap. Poughkeepsie. Bulbous. Yabba-dabba-doo. Babaghanoush (which we're all familiar with now, so it's no longer funny. These are usually non-Latin or French-derived words. I realize now that I must personally think words with lots of Bs and Ps are funny.

Some are funny because they are archaic and out of common use, and sound old fashioned, like poppycock, folderol, bolderdash, winsome, or zounds! Or because they're foreign and not familiar to us, like benihana, Addis Ababa, bibimbap, couscous.
Alliteration and rhyme can also make a word stand out.

We laugh at things that are unfamiliar and new and unusual. Making something funny has to do with seeing it in a new way that changes its status and dignity. (See also: drag queens calling out to a cop "Excuse me, miss policeman!" Or a gardener solemnly referring to pests as 'Miss Aphid" or "the esteemed representative of the nation of rabbits." but those examples aren't about funny words, per se.)

Most often, words are funny because they are dropped in places you don't expect them, out of their usual sphere of usage. Like calling a pathetic dinner of canned marinara sauce over chow mein noodle as "fusion" "multicultural" or "sino-Italian."

"Tasty" or "crunchy" aren't particularly funny words, or even noticeable words, when positioned next to "breakfast cereal." But they will probably get a giggle when modifying "Volkswagen" or "sound effects manipulation" or "defense attorney." (Both of these words were once fresh and funny when applied by stoners and jam-band fans to "guitar solo" and so on, but they're now a cliché, so they might as well be modifying "breakfast cereal." That usage isn't funny anymore, to paraphrase Morrissey.)

A very funny usage would be "a crunchy and tasty multicultural fusion snack of chow mein noodles cleverly sauced with a traditional Sicilian marinara." Desperation munchy becomes a parody of food-writing pretension.

Ezra Pound said that the whole point of writing things is to make things new, in our descriptions. Recombining words and images in unexpected ways gives us vivid and new thoughts. Which are usually funny because we're saying something you aren't expecting.

Combining techniques, like using non-funny-sounding words in unexpected ways, can be funny. A great recent book title: "The Guernsey Literary And Potato Peel Pie Society." Not funny enough to get me to read it yet, but certainly an inherently amusing title comprising totally ordinary un-funny words in an alliterative and also dry and dignified way. Combining abstract words (literary, society) with vivid and even undignified words and images (the lowly potato peel, unexpectedly crammed into the form of a probably repulsive pastry) can give you a sharp unexpected blow to the head, in a comedy sense.

People who were really good at this combining ordinary words in multiple ways, for comic effect: SJ Perelman, the Marx Brothers, Monty Python. Sometimes Tom Stoppard.

The word "avalanche" may not be funny to you, but remember, avalanche is better than no lanche at all, yes?

A true benefit of English is that it has all these odd-sounding Anglo-Saxon words, as well as lots of weird words absorbed from non-romance languages, which combine with all the words derived from Latin (both religious and legal) and French (which the Norman conquerors spoke), forming a never-quite-blending stew of sounds and shadings of meaning.

Lots and lots of toys in the toolbox, to mix a metaphoric cocktail.

I really should mention John Lennon as a natural master of funny wordplay. Not his song lyrics, but the funny little books he put out: in "His Own Write" and "A Spaniard in the Works." At their best, they are amazing little case studies on how to replace one word with another, usually a homonym, and make a dull sentence both funny and thought-provoking.

Also, Irish writers historically have been very good at clever wordplay. And I'm sure somebody has a well-reasoned theory as to why, but it's not me. Check out quotations from Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw, and James Joyce. Please exclude Bono from your investigations -- he is an unfortunate exception to the trend.

Other words: doughboy, wallaby, wombat, ocelot, kazoo, Bonobo. Bebe Rebozo.
 

Cloris Leachman. Which becomes funny when juxtaposed with "Clorox Bleach."

Kalamazoo.

Conniption. Aneurysm. (Which aren't so funny to most people, probably. But think of the comedy mileage you get with just an exclamation point: "Aneurysm! The Musical!" Or imagine a solemn and pompous John Grisham legal thriller titled "The Conniption Ruling" or something like that.)

A great exercise is taking a word that is decidedly unfunny, and finding ways to make it funny, to the point of making people really uncomfortable. (Cancer Crispies, anyone?)

Can you tell I am going stir crazy, stuck indoors on crutches, alone all day, with nothing to do?

 We can tell Dave. That's one of the reasons we love you. Comment below on words you think are funny, your thoughts on Dave's thoughts, or what you think Dave should do while cooped up in his apartment in a cast/boot for the next one to three weeks.

This Was The Week In Words

Breaking news... (because I just heard about it this morning): Funny Or Die, the website founded by Will Ferrell and Adam McKay and known for its viral comedy videos, announced this week that it is launching its own book imprint, Funny Or Die Books. They say their business model will be to take ideas from authors, polish them, then sell to publishers with the backing of the Funny or Die brand. I have mixed feelings about this news. It's great that there's a new publishing imprint out there for up-and-coming writers, but it sounds to me like they're using the Internet's 'site aggregator' model of publishing by taking other writers' work and making it their own -- appropriating the writer's work in the process. Writers need to learn how to build ourselves as our own brand (sounds like a WordNerdGirl post topic we should cover.) What do you think? Funny Or Die Books: Good or Bad? Comment below.

Related to that, is this really an "accidentally beautiful" photo of printers' ink dumped on a highway, or really a metaphor for the newspaper industry?  I got a big laugh out of these headlines -- all grouped together on Yahoo News this morning. It looked like the web equivalent of a supermarket tabloid rack:

• Will March 19 'Supermoon' Trigger Natural Disasters?
• Zombie Ants Fall Victim to Mind Control Fungus
• Photos of Hitler's Wife Stirs the Web

And try as I might, it was impossible to avoid the fallout news generated by last week's meltdown of He-Who-I-Will-Not-Name-because-I'm-tired-of-hearing-about-it-and-more-headlines-just-contribute-to-the-ongoing-displays-of-coked-out-narcissism, but I must say I enjoyed Jon Cryer's appearance on Ellen earlier this week, as well as his admission on Conan O'Brien's show yesterday that he is, indeed, a troll. That may be true, but he'll always be Duckie to me.

Finally, water, water is everywhere as the Philadelphia/South Jersey area deals with widespread flooding from last night's rain, and Japan, Hawaii and the West Coast of the U.S. is reeling from an 8.9 earthquake and resulting tsunami. Forget next week's Supermoon, today is the day we should really be worried about, as the natural disaster is still unfolding. Sending good thoughts and whatever help we can to the victims half a world away. 

The Feedback Loop

Last week, Salon posted a good Q&A with comedian Michael Showalter about his new memoir, "Mr. Funnypants." One quote of his, in particular, jumped out at me...

"I didn't perform any of it (his book's comedy material) in front of an audience, which is one of the more interesting and terrifying things about writing a book. You really have no idea whether or not what you're writing is funny. In stand-up and sketch comedy, you know right away and you can make your changes accordingly."

I smiled the first time I read that, because I can relate -- especially now that I've made the conscious decision to write more humor. It's a frustrating thing writing the funny for print. You have no way of knowing for certain if what you're writing is getting the laugh until it's read or published. I often crave that immediate feedback. When you can tell a joke or perform a sketch, if the intended gag is met with audience silence, that will usually tell you everything you need to know.

Every writer -- regardless of their experience, or what they're writing -- carries a tiny bit of anxiety, questioning, "Is what I'm writing going to get the reaction I want?"

• Will my memo convince the boss to start production on my product?
• Will my legal brief sway the judge?
• Will readers get turned on by my steamy romance story?
• Will my headline generate page views on the website?
• Will the studio buy my screenplay?

That's why it's so important to seek out -- and listen to -- feedback on your work. The "seeking out" is relatively easy: go to writing classes and workshops, open mike (mic?) nights, track the web hits counter, track your book sales, watch your Facebook friends hit the "Like" button, ask a colleague, seek out the advice of a mentor.

Experienced writers can get in their own way, tuning out help because they think they know what they’re doing – even when they don’t. New writers, because they lack confidence, tend to "over-listen." Regardless of where the feedback is coming from, they make every change suggested, and question their own instincts. They don’t stop to ask, "What is this person's motivation?" Sometimes, you have to consider that the person giving feedback has his or her own agenda.

This happened to me early in my career. For a (thankfully) short time, I wrote for a newspaper where one of the editors actually had the balls to circulate a memo that showed examples of how to not write stories. Every single ‘don’t write like this’ example quoted from stories with my byline.

Still relatively new and unsure of myself (despite a couple of years and awards already under my belt), I felt humiliated and took it to heart, because this guy was an editor with more experience. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me:

• The stories were all good enough to publish in the first place.
• None of my other editors had complained before (or since).
• I never asked for his opinion. No one did.
• His memo did not offer constructive criticism -- helpful suggestions that would be instructive to everyone who saw it for how to make our writing better.
• He may have been purposely sabotaging me, trying to push me out of the job.

 While at the time, I was floored (and – surprise, surprise – quit very soon after) I eventually came to realize that this guy, even though he was an editor and had more experience than me, was your basic, run-of-the-mill d-bag asshole. He had his own agenda for telling me and everyone in the office I didn’t know what I was doing. Helpful instruction was not part of that agenda. This was feedback that could be rejected.

Now, this is the exception, I believe, not the rule. Most often, if you ask for, or are offered, feedback -- especially from other writers – people genuinely want to do right by you. But sometimes the feedback is misguided. Occasionally, it can be damaging. It takes experience to learn how to sort through it all. This is by no means complete, but here is a list of questions to ask yourself to help tell the difference.

Advice from a Do-Write, or a D-Bag?

• Why is this person giving the advice? Did I ask, or was it offered?
• Does this person have expertise in your area of writing?
• Is this person giving you their honest, fair assessment?
• Does the feedback talk to you in terms of what works and what doesn't in your writing? (As opposed to what is "good" or "bad" about your writing. "Good" and "bad" are subjective. What "works" is something that can be quantified and/or explained.)
• Is the person asking questions about what you were trying to accomplish?
• What's in it for this person if he/she is offering to help me?
• Is this person only focused on what they didn't like, or what was "wrong" with the writing? Can he/she point to what you wrote that was right.

I'd love to hear about how others get feedback, and when you can tell if that feedback is good. Post in the comments.

Referenced link: Salon: Michael Showalter interview

Euphemisms Are So F*@#!ng Funny!

Last week, there was a lot of buzz about Cee-Lo Green replacing the lyrics to his song "F*ck You" with "Fox News" during the aired version of his performance on The Colbert Report. After seeing the bit, and subsequently seeing the unaired, uncensored version of the song, I got to thinking about why both versions are so damn funny.

As it is, the uncensored song is fantastic -- it's very catchy, upbeat, and I can honestly say I have never heard anyone say, or sing, "F*ck You" with so much enthusiasm and joy. Seriously... it's my new favorite song. If you haven't heard the uncensored, full-on "F*ck You" version, take 3:55 to watch and listen:

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Cee Lo Green - F**k You
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes 2010 Election March to Keep Fear Alive

I know -- f*ckin' awesome, man! I think what makes it so brilliant -- and why it has become the unsung  anthem of 2010 (literally unsung -- it's the most popular song that nobody will air without heavy editing) is that it takes an inherently aggressive, nasty-sounding phrase and turns it into something silly and fun.

Like most basic cable, Comedy Central generally "bleeps" away the coarse language which, if it's done right, can actually add to the funny. But music is another matter entirely. Songs that are bleeped or "edited for radio" (which is a whole 'nuther topic I could go off on) are usually ruined in the process. But not "F*ck You." Because The Colbert Report had a brilliantly simple solution: the euphemism.

They could have used almost any phrase to replace the "f*ck you" and it still would have been funny. Go back and listen -- if the impossibly catchy hook isn't already earworming around your noggin -- but replace the "f*ck you" with almost any variation and you get some instant silliness:

I see you driving 'round town with the girl I love
And I'm like
Tofu.
I guess the change in my pocket wasn't enough
I'm like
Suck moo.
And puck her too...


"Fox News" just happened to be the best choice for their show, and inserting the euphemism aired the song in a way that a)- didn't hack it to pieces with ridiculous bleeps or edits, b)- was true to the spirit of the song, and c)- also made a great bit of comedic political commentary.

Usually, I prefer it when people say what they mean to say. But when writing for the funny, I think the lesson here is that sometimes, it is better to go out of your way to avoid saying what's so f*cking obvious*...

*Because everybody knows what the stupid asterisk really means.

Referenced links: The Colbert Report, Entertainment Weekly