An Analysis of the ONION

While reading the ONION, a free satirical newspaper based in New York City, I detected two basic comedic stratagems. For the first stratagem, let's look at the following three headlines:

"Nation Mobilizes For Beautiful Weekend"

"Dog Breeders Issue Massive Recall Of '07 Pugs"

"Modern-Day Martin Luther Nails 95 Comment Cards to IHOP Door"

In each case, a topic, such as pugs, is placed within a wholly different context, such as a product recall. Two disparate elements are combined. Throughout the article, pugs with health problems are treated as though they were defective mechanical products, as though people didn't attach sentimental value to their pets, which is, except in the case of working dogs, the primary use-value of a companion animal, and as though there were no concern for the actual welfare of the animals, but that the animal's problems were rather a concern because they were detrimental to animal's usefulness. This recontextualization of the pug is ridiculous, and therefore funny. At the same time, the ONION offers a searing critique of dog-breeders that continue to breed animals that are rife with health problems. The article's affected callous attitude towards pugs only adds to the humor. Callousness is often funny.

In the other two headlines, we see Memorial Day Weekend equated with a war offensive and a disgruntled IHOP patron equated with a man who changed the face of Christianity. These articles are essentially comic conceits. The writers end the article when the conceit is exhausted. A solid comic conceit will sustain the impact of the headline by demonstrating and solidifying the relationship between the disparate topic and context.


Perhaps somewhat less fertile and interesting is the second stratagem that I uncovered, that is, treating something totally mundane as news. It is a distant kin to the comic conceit, in that the mundane topic becomes funny because of its new context.

"Area Man Somehow Roped Into Arguing Passionately For Green Day"

I also recall seeing a headline a while back that said something like "Eight-Year-Old Packs Own Lunch" that was accompanied by a photograph of some junk food assembled around a paper bag.

It is the relationship between disparate elements that is surprising and funny.

Every time I make discoveries such as these, I feel I'm cheating myself in some way. I know that the more discoveries I make, the less I'll laugh. What comes to mind is the classic image of the comic standing in the back of the room watching another comedian, nodding his head and saying, "That's funny." Incidentally, I dream of someday writing a scholarly work on joke structures.

So I've decided to start doing stand-up again and I wonder if it's wise. A good set is the purest pleasure I know, but do I really want to spend my mornings frantically reading newspapers and science and culture magazines, scouting for joke kernels? Do I really want to go back to a life in which I interrupt conversations to take note of something funny I said?

For those who don't know, I made the move. I'm in Brooklyn now. It's surreal. Tonight I train at my new cafe job on Bedford Ave.

Last night I did a stand-up set. I loved it. The audience loved it, I think. It felt right. The experience reaffirmed my desire to pursue stand-up again, now that I'm through with school and have the head space and time. I probably could've done more stand-up during school than I did, but there was the fear lurking, the same fear that keeps me away from attractive me during the semester: a fear of getting carried away. I've been there. There was a time when my obsession with stand-up was all-consuming. Then I got into Rice, among other things, and my participation in the comedy world waned. But anyway, so what, right? I'm ready to do it now...

But I mentioned this to my father and I all I got was discouragement. He said it was no life for me, an addict, that it would be too much of an emotional roller-coaster and that I'd keep bad company. He also said that I needed to quit dabbling and pick something and stick with it. But I'm twenty-four. Do I really need a life plan? That seems ludicrous. And what if what I choose is stand-up? He told me to pick the thing I love most and decide to be the best at it. What if that is what I love most? I suspect that stand-up, in terms of obsession level, is at least on par with fiction writing, if it doesn't surpass it altogether. And why do I have to choose? Who cares if I'm ever the best or not? I'm sick of career tracks. I just can't take all the discouraging words I've been getting from so many people lately. I'm at a crossroads in my life and all I want is somebody to pat me on the back and tell me I'm OK. All I want is some satisfaction. I don't need to be famous.

Alright, enough emotional vomit. The next post will be less personal.

p.s. I went bra-shopping yesterday. FUCK THAT.

pretty please