“[Humanity] has unquestionably one really effective weapon – laughter. Power, money, persuasion, supplication, persecution – these can lift at a colossal humbug – push it a little – weaken it at little, century by century; but only laughter can blow it to rags and atoms at a blast. Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand.” – Mark Twain, The Mysterious Stranger
Last week I wrote about storytelling in general, using Hannah Gadsby’s quote as a jumping off point to discuss how effective storytelling is vital in creating change, particularly intangible change. The second half of her quote—“Laughter is just the honey that sweetens the bitter medicine”—brings me to this continuation.
I once made a presentation to my department about effective writing[1], which included a bit about the Oxford comma. For those who need a refresher, the Oxford comma (also known as a serial comma) is a comma placed after the penultimate term in a list, before the conjunction. There are many jokes regarding this comma to remind people of its importance, including these:
- We invited the strippers, JFK and Stalin.
- I’d like to thank my parents, God and Superman.
- My three favorite things are the Oxford comma, irony and missed opportunities.
People remembered the jokes about the Oxford comma, particularly when life imitated art. In 2018, a missing Oxford comma in a Maine labor law meant that a group of dairy drivers were entitled to $5 million in unpaid overtime[2]. The law exempted certain activities from overtime compensation, ending with “packing for shipment or distribution.” Considering the last two activities weren’t separated by a comma, the drivers argued that it was a single act, distinct from their distribution activities. Their distribution activities were not considered exempt, and were therefore entitled to overtime pay they’d been denied.
Laughter, even laughing at the irony of a situation, allows us to recall information faster than raw facts alone[3], and I suggest that it also helps people stay calmer in a situation than recalling a depressing fact or situation. We’ve seen an uptick of humor used to recall information in recent years with the proliferation of series on streaming services, such as the Epic Rap Battles of History, Drunk History[4], and even the first episode of the classic sitcom Frasier which touched on actress Lupe Velez[5].
How could we apply this to looking forward instead of remembering the past? Adding humor to things that we’ve normally demonized and feared, such as robotics and automation, could allow us to realize that the problems are easier to handle than we previously considered. When we think of robotics, generally movies like I, Robot and The Terminator, and Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics come to mind. I like to think of Wall-E, Bender from Futurama, and DuckTales’ Gizmoduck. Instead of doom and gloom, death, and potential robot uprising, I look at robots as helpful, almost human, and even in a symbiotic relationship with humanity[6]. Even in cases of robots going crazy, they are done in a more light-hearted manner. For example, in the 2017 reboot of DuckTales, the episode “The Great Dime Chase!” features creator Gyro Gearloose and his invention, Little Bulb, a tiny humanoid robot with a lightbulb for a head. Gyro wants to be taken seriously – but his inventions, like Little Bulb, have a habit of “gaining sentience and turning evil like all the others,” though Gyro argues that only half of his inventions turn evil, and the other half are just wildly misunderstood[7].
Applying humor to the idea of robots’ becoming evil becomes an exercise of laughing in the face of danger, which could allow for more rational thinking regarding certain events rather than relying on the whole “fight or flight” reaction. The more we feed our thoughts with the idea that “We’re all going to die” in the face of uncertainty, the more likely we are to make decisions based on fear than on fact. By laughing at the idea of a robot shaking its tiny fists in anger to show that it’s “evil[8],” we’re more likely to think rationally about what would happen if robots started acting that way.
When we think about modern storytelling, particularly when thinking about movies and the associated awards, we tend to think in our (generally) usual binary style: serious fare versus humorous fare. It’s widely accepted that the serious fare is far more likely to be nominated for and/or win the Academy Award for best picture. Of the 93 Academy Award ceremonies, only seven comedies[9] have won for Best Picture, including It Happened One Night[10], The Sting, and The Artist. We tend to think that the serious stories have more to say about society and social conditions than a comedy would.
Likewise in business–we tend to think serious attitudes and projects should gain more attention than something comical, and we box comedy into this one-dimensional genre that only causes chaos and confusion. But comedy, when done effectively, can reach across a multitude of groups. One of my favorite shows of all time is the sitcom Cheers, which had fans spanning many population groups and intelligence levels. Fans included author Kurt Vonnegut, comedian Amy Poehler, and even the late musician Prince[11]. The show didn’t rely on cheap gags, but understood at the very heart what people – ordinary people – were thinking and feeling, and portrayed that on the screen, sometimes to absurd levels[12]. One such story from the show that changed the way people thought about things is the episode What is…Cliff Clavin? where postman and bar-know-it-all Cliff went on Jeopardy and bet everything during Final Jeopardy. While his answer was technically correct[13], it wasn’t the answer they were looking for. That Cheers’ episode spawned “Clavin’s Rule[14]”: a feeling of being so intelligent and infallible that you bet all of your winnings on Final Jeopardy and lose everything, a rule that has been applied to other areas of competitiveness.
This brings me to another point about effective scenarios: I doubt we would have remembered this episode and Clavin’s Rule if the episode hadn’t been hilarious. If this had been a serious, dramatic piece, we would have probably felt sadness and even second-hand embarrassment for the character, but by laughing at the folly, we remember it and try to apply it to our lives in some way. I, for one, choose not to rely on a “sure thing,” particularly in trivia games – though it may depend on who my opponents are.
That’s not to say there’s no place for serious fare when explaining concepts or trying to sway people, but you have to know your audience and know enough about the topic to add the humor. Just as it takes practice and skill to be a stand-up comedian, you can’t just throw out witticisms and think you’re changing minds[15]. To give a completely hypothetical situation that I’ve never been involved in[16], if you want to help your agency prepare for another government shutdown (like they don’t happen every year), you could create a satirical newspaper headline to give to your boss. Adding a satirical contributing article that highlights the facts you’ve gathered around past shutdowns, and the missteps you know your agency can anticipate, could not only help your boss see the trends and patterns you’ve already uncovered in a method with which they are familiar, but might also give them the opportunity to make clear decisions without fear and with adequate of information.
Being funny is difficult. Some have a knack for it; others, well…the point is, laughter, or even generating a bit of a chuckle can be an effective way to get people to understand the bitter truth about something. I’ll end with Mel Brooks’ own words, explaining why he decided to put Springtime for Hitler in The Producers: “More than anything, the great holocaust by the Nazis is probably the great outrage of the 20th century. There’s nothing to compare it with. And…so what can I do about it? If I get on the soapbox and wax eloquently, it’ll be blown away in the wind, but if I do ‘Springtime for Hitler,’ it’ll never be forgotten. I think you can bring down totalitarian governments faster by using ridicule than you can with invective[17].”
[1] Grammar, horse captions, how many spaces after a period…
[2] https://www.cnn.com/2018/02/09/us/dairy-drivers-oxford-comma-case-settlement-trnd/index.html
[3] I like to argue that we like to remember the humorous context more than anything.
[4] My favorite one is Lin-Manuel Miranda discussing The Reynolds Pamphlet: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3yi0FNwOYiI
[5] It might not be quite accurate, but helps you remember the actress and her lavish suicide.
[6] Or, in the case of Bender, a symbiotic relationship with our alcohol.
[7] The show as a whole is worth watching.
[8] Or at least melodramatic.
[9] There are seven more that are considered a “mix” of comedy and drama, but I did not include these because they mostly fit the dramatic element than the comedy element, such as Driving Miss Daisy and American Beauty.
[10] A classic must-see. Colbert and Gable make an amazing pair.
[11] https://www.gq.com/story/cheers-oral-history-extended
[12] It was a comedy, after all.
[13] “Who are three people who’ve never been in my kitchen?”
[14] https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/feb/25/jeopardy-champion-arthur-chu-its-about-intimidation
[15] Well, you might be, but people might be changing their mind on hiring you or putting you in charge of things.
[16] Sarcasm 101 – I could teach a course.
[17] https://archive.macleans.ca/article/1978/4/17/interview
formthefuture.org 