The Bell Epoch

Pavlov, the physiologist, is in his luxurious laboratory checking how ringing a bell in association with food affects animals, and today he is trying it with a cat.  After feeding the cat for days at the sound, he rings it without food to see if the cat will salivate.  But the Cat just saunters in and looks around, and then he says, out loud: "What?" Astonished, Dr. Pavlov goes: "You can talk? Tell me more! Tell me: are you salivating?," and he rings the bell again.

"That seems a bit personal,'" says the Cat.

"Well, I can't ask the dog, he doesn't talk," says Pavlov.

"That's right, and it's going to stay that way," says the Cat, looking meaningfully at the Doctor.  They stare at each other, until Pavlov feels uncomfortable, puts down the bell, burns his notes, gives the cat an entire salmon for dinner, and quietly leaves.

On the Resignation of Benedict XVI

A cowboy, a robot and the Pope are waiting in line at DMV. "I reckon I need to renew my tabs, just about got a ticket! heh heh," says the friendly cowboy." "Beep Bop Boop!," says the robot. "Such language!" says the Pope.  "May the lord forgive you, if you even have a soul, you lump of useless machinery!"   "Hey, calm down, he didn't mean nothing!" says the cowboy. "Bleep Blorp!" says the robot, raising his tiny rubber tool arms into attack position as the cowboy suddenly has to stand between them, holding them apart, as the Pope tries whapping the robot on the head with his glorious sceptre. 

"Screw, this, I'm through being Pope!" says the Pope, throwing off his robes and tossing his hat aside, to the amazement of dozens of people in line.  Fuming, he drives off in the cowboy's El Camino without even asking if he borrow it, spinning the tires in the dusty parking lot and spraying gravel, dinging the other cars in the lot. 

The cowboy turns to the robot and goes: "Weren't you the one that told me he was in the Hitler Youth?"

On the Line Between Joke and Angst Joke

"A man walks into a bar. There is no such line."

Soprano

A ferocious Bear is at a McDonald's in the drive-thru lane, poking his enormous head into the window and gnashing his teeth. "RAAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!' says the bear, as he tears at the walls with his huge paws, ripping them away one by one, as bear slobber flies from his mouth. As it turns out, the terrified attendant is smooth jazz star Kenny G, who has fallen on hard times, and is making ends meet with this part time job.

Frozen for a moment,  he remembers that music soothes the savage beast. He sets down the bag of McNuggets he was holding and picks up his soprano saxophone and, inspired again, touched by the muse for the first time in years, Kenny G gets ready to play a gentle, soothing tune, a tune which may save his life and the life of his friends.

But the bear rips the saxaphone from his hands and bites it in half.

"You're hardly Miles fucking Davis, are you!?" says the bear.

With A Chaser of Warm, Flat 7-UP

 Hijacked Navy Seal Joke

Three ex Navy Seals walk into a bar.  Noticing that one is quite a bit shorter than the others, the bartender asks him if being small presented any special challenges as a Seal.  The short Seal pulls out a gun and shoots him in the face, killing him instantly.  Then he picks up the body to try to drag it away, and goes: "Wow, this guy is huge. Can you guys give me a hand?"

The other Seal kindly pours him a glass of straight, warm, inexpensive vodka.

Navy Seal Joke, Version III

Three ex Navy Seals walk into a bar. Noticing that one is quite a bit shorter than the others, the bartender asks him if being small presented any special challenges as a Seal. The short Seal goes: "It's very hard to capture that particular Navy SEAL feeling of having achieved a very great deal in the service of a corrupt and heartless hegemon while simultaneously fully experiencing the emptiness of all human existence, especially when firearms are involved."

The bartender kindly pours him a glass of straight, warm, inexpensive vodka.

Navy Seal Joke, The Missing Version II

Three ex-Navy Seals walk into a bar, noticing that one is quite a bit shorter than the others, the bartender asks him if being small presented any special challenges as a Seal.  "Not really," says a 4th Navy Seal, who is silently weeping on top of a club sandwich.

The bartender kindly pours him a tiny glass of straight, warm, inexpensive vodka.

On the Correct Understanding of the Angst-Jöken

To embrace the penetrating clarity permitted by the hilarious despair, we must ultimately reject "funny" as a evaluative concept pertinent to jokes, where a jocular clutch, as it were, is, naturally, a bourgeoise construct distracting us from the social reality. Rather than a mechanical bleating of air, the proper response to any joke is therefore: "Yes, that is highly descriptive." Try it with your friends.

Identity

"Knock, Knock."
"Who's There?"
"The Gaping, Empty Chasm of Total Meaninglessness."
"Do you have any I.D.?"