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Best-of joke of the week: "The Turbulent Flight"

Posted by John McIntyre at 9:17 AM | | Comments (1)
        

Comments


Now there (that punch line) is a classic case of what some psychologists, or shrinks would call "transference", namely ascribing a feeling, or emotion of one's own to another person.

"Are you feeling better?", indeed. (In this case it was a vomit 'transfer', as well. UGH!)

Barf jokes are normally not my cup of tea, particularly on just embarking on a fresh, new week, even before my first cuppa coffee and morning ablutions. But I'll make an exception w/ this one, kind professor.

As someone who has always preferred an in-flight window seat (if available), I thankfully have yet to be hemmed in by any fellow passenger verging on the morbidly obese; nor for that matter, have i ever been on the brink of air sickness due to extreme turbulence, or crappy airline food.

Just wondering why our joke-of-the-week 'vomiter' didn't avail himself of one of those de rigeuer, very handy barf bags? But then again, otherwise, there would be no joke here, right? (Just glad his pressing issue wasn't having to go 'number-two'. HA!)

These days, the whole debate over accommodating grossly overweight passengers in economy class on commercial flights is a tough, and ofttimes heated one. Most airlines DO charge the hefty person an equally hefty two-adjoining-seat double fee, and of course encourage putting down that shared armrest between seats. (OK, I'm being silly here.)

I do feel some degree of compassion for these XXXX-large folk, putting myself in their shoes, considering the stares, slights, morbid curiosity, and generally negative vibes coming from other passengers; in addition to the sheer physical discomfort they must have to endure in the tight quarters of the 'economy' section on most aircraft.

Pays to be rail thin, I guess.

I'm sure Olive Oyl never had a problem. Although rumor has it that old Popeye did have to purchase an (extra) adjoining seat just to accommodate that famous gargantuan, bulked-up tattooed forearm of his. Just sayin'.

ALEX

P.S.: ----- Hope some of you folks caught the first two-hour segment of "American Masters" new PBS-aired documentary on Woody Allen last evening.

Whatever one may think of his well-publicized private life shenanigans, and peccadillos, I still regard Allen as one of our country's most gifted humorists, and visionary film directors.

I thoroughly enjoyed this opening half of the documentary---- a more-or-less chronological looking-back at Woody's formative years growing up in Brooklyn, New York, elaborating on his very Jewish family dynamics, his early forays into penning, and publishing clever jokes while still in high-school, to early standup, followed by timely exposure on network TV (Steve Allen and Ed Sullivan shows), and then his early successes in directing his own films. The documentary spent some time chronicling the major detour from Allen's earlier gag/ joke-driven narratives to more personal, relationship-focused, serious fare (like "Interiors", "Annie Hall" and "Manhattan").

Even w/ the serious stuff, Woody still found occasion to exercise his signature, brilliant ironic wit, and wacky physical, slap-sticky humor.

I believe the Woody 'doc' concludes w/ another 2-hour installment, tonight, on one of your local PBS station.

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About John McIntyre
John McIntyre, mild-mannered editor for a great metropolitan newspaper, has fussed over writers’ work, to sporadic expressions of gratitude, for thirty years. He is The Sun’s night content production manager and former head of its copy desk. He also teaches editing at Loyola University Maryland. A former president of the American Copy Editors Society, a native of Kentucky, a graduate of Michigan State and Syracuse, and a moderate prescriptivist, he writes about language, journalism, and arbitrarily chosen topics. If you are inspired by a spirit of contradiction, comment on the posts or write to him at john.mcintyre@baltsun.com.
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