Mearsheimer on Napolitano: Israel’s expansionist aims, ethnic cleansing, and its grip on American foreign policy

Where overthinking comes to bury the laugh: These two “humor researchers” claim to unpack the strange world of absurdist oddities. Yet it’s like watching them try to pin down a cloud: in all their busy theorizing, they completely miss what social function humor actually serves. And all those “jewy” references, downright repulsive. In the end, it’s less an explanation than an accidental parody of not getting it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOG7lJf1IG8
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1LyTThf7V0

My stance on this: Little Johnny in the Banana Peel of the Cheerful Muse

Our media are, to paraphrase an old saying, a one‑eyed muse. Entertainment so often looks as if it’s being made not for the people, but at the people—by folks who think the audience is less clever than a third grader. Out comes something childish, undercooked, lacking taste, instinct, wit, a sense of real life, of language, of irony—enough to make you switch off before the next laugh track kicks in.

This is entertainment aimed at small‑town rubes. It talks to us in baby talk, because, apparently, that’s the only way we’ll “get it.” Nothing but tame bunny clowning. “Be nice to each other” – the convenient lullaby of the powerful, sung to keep the crowd calm, compliant, and too polite to question anything. The incessant torrent of chatter from the media relieves us of the obligation to draw our own conclusions.

Sure—there are exceptions: a couple of decent late‑night shows, a handful of talented stand‑ups, some genuinely brilliant absurdists. But what remains in the realm of mainstream variety and comedy? Grandpa’s TV, with a couple of trend‑colored throw pillows. The same over‑rehearsed game shows, the same “interactive” variety specials, the same neon glitz with an ever‑smiling MC tying it all together with shameless banter.

And above all—the same language! That same clumsy, wink‑wink tone.

Where does this come from?

I’d say it’s because our entertainment is forced to float in a vacuum. It cannot touch anything real. Don’t disturb, don’t provoke, don’t bump into anything—even “food for thought” is considered unsavory. Our humor is… neutered. I’m talking about the bizarre belief that you can cook up a kind of “pure humor” in a lab—humor vacuum‑packed, free of any social reference. And the result?

You train the audience to accept a toothless snicker, a macaroni‑and‑cheese kind of comfort comedy—and call it “the people’s choice.” In doing so, you dull the already uncertain taste of the public. Does no one notice the vulgarity of those decades‑old cartoon mascots, the forced cutesiness, the groan‑worthy puns?

All on the unspeakably stale level of “Tony the Tiger says it’s Grrreat!” or “The Pillsbury Doughboy giggles again.” And the antique expressions repeated as if they still crackle with wit: “Wake up and smell the coffee,” “That’s the ticket,” “I’m walkin’ here!” “It’s Miller Time,” “Have a nice day!” How much sloppy thinking, how much language fatigue is revealed in that.

What’s the upshot? Simply this: Real humor must always be about something real, something telling about the present. People, conditions, convictions. Humor is the Fool in King Lear, the gravedigger in Hamlet, Sancho Panza in Don Quixote—not funny just for the sake of it, but above all as a contrast.

Humor is always sand in the gears. It grinds. It jabs—preferably at the sole of someone’s foot, forcing them to stifle an “ouch” so they don’t lose face. Real humor has teeth. It lets the wind out of pomp. It shows the flip side of the grandiose.