Entries from September 2007 ↓

I bought my Geo Metro less than a month after moving to California. That was eight years ago. Another time. Another me. Over those next twenty-two months, I went through such profound changes in my life and personality that I actually have a hard time remembering a “me” before that time. As a result, that means I also have a hard time remembering a “me” who drove anything except that little black car. Of course “little” is a misleading word. I took that car over mountains. I took it into the desert. I drove it across the country three times – once with every earthly possession I owned in the trunk and back seat (which I still haven’t been able to identify as “lame” or “something Jack Kerouac would do”). It’s been pelted by everything from snow to falling rock to hailstones slung by a tornado. The Geo may have been “little”, but it was little in the way that, say, Joe Pesci is little.

Almost every major epiphany I had during that time occurred behind the wheel of my Geo: deciding to pull back from friends in order to figure out who I was as “just me”… fully realizing the extent of the love I had for a certain girl… understanding that I could move out of L.A. even though I felt like my whole life had been leading me there… ultimately realizing that no matter how much I thought I’d learned about myself, the world, and my place in it, I was still, and would forever be “full of s***.”

They weren’t all earth-shattering, paradigm-shifting revelations. There were also all the little things I learned behind the wheel of the Geo:

- My love for country music
- The proper method for controlling a skid around another car while you simultaneously curse them out and flip the bird.
- You can park anywhere in L.A. for free if you’re a good enough parallel parker who doesn’t mind walking a bit.
- The top number on your speedometer is not necessarily the top speed your car can handle.
- Cops will not pull you over no matter how fast you’re driving if there is a tornado in the vicinity.
- Windows-down is always preferable to air-conditioning on all but the most unbearably hot days.
- It doesn’t matter how badly you sing if you crank the radio loud enough.
- Even though we know we shouldn’t drive home drunk, we still sometimes do.
- A fresh coat of wax can make even a piece of junk look sporty and stylish.
- Even so, chicks will never gravitate toward a guy in an economy car.
- Sometimes it isn’t necessary to have a destination. Driving to drive is just as fun.

The Geo has been a central part of my life for over eight years now. But when the first words out of my mechanic’s mouth last week were, “How attached are you to this car?” it wasn’t hard to see the writing on the wall. He rattled off a list of problems that, without doing any calculations, added up to more than the car’s monetary worth. I’m not sure how surprised I was to discover tears welling up in my eyes, knowing that one way or another the Geo would have to be put down.

Today, as I signed the dotted line to purchase a new mini-van for my growing family, it all hit home. I will never drive the Geo again. It’s already off our insurance, making way for something newer, roomier, more reliable. Part of me regretted that I hadn’t taken the Geo for one last joyride. But really, what would that have gained? I know I have to move on. Even though the Geo played such a central role in the transition from “old me” to “new me”, I know it could not have continued functioning in this new and ever-changing life that I lead. In that respect, I’m actually almost glad the decision was taken out of my hands. The Geo’s usefulness, from a completely legal standpoint, is now worn out. Its destiny is fulfilled. Soon a tow truck will come take it away, leaving nothing in its wake but vivid memories and a generous tax write off. After that, the “me” transition, I suppose, will finally be complete.

So, slow ride, old friend. Take it easy.

Was there ever a point in time when the chicken joke was funny? The original one I mean. The one that has come to represent the quintessential definition of a joke in general, and a bad joke in particular.

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
A: To get to the other side.

It’s a reversal technique that gives this joke its intended humor. The setup indicates the chicken had some higher purpose for crossing the road. But the punchline indicates he was crossing the road simply for the purpose OF crossing the road. A modern equivalent of this joke (at least the only one I can think of at 4:00 in the morning as I sit in a production trailer babysitting editors) comes from an episode of Friends.

FRANK: We were down at the courthouse, we were having lunch and we just decided to get married.
PHOEBE: Oh my god, what were you doing at the courthouse?
FRANK: We were having lunch.

The funny reversal idea behind the chicken joke is the same, but once we’re actually old enough and intellectually mature enough to get the punchline, we’ve heard it like a zillion times in some other patently not funny context, making it just “that stupid chicken joke.” Really, the only time anyone ever laughs at the chicken joke is when somebody (not unlike the original joke teller) throws some kind of reversal on the expected punchline.

It can be done via a pun like:

Q: Why did the chicken cross the playground?
A: To get to the other slide.

It can be done with absurdity:

Q: Why did the frog cross the road?
A: Because he was stapled to the chicken.

Or it can be done by applying a third party personality to the punchline:

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
A (by Einstein): Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road moved beneath it depends on your point of reference.
A (by Martin Luther King): I envision a world where chickens are free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.
A (by Buddha): To ask this question is to deny your own chicken nature.
A (by Colonel Sanders): Wait, you mean I missed one?

But just where the heck did the original joke come from? And moreover, was there ever a point in time when people found it funny? Like did the first adult to ever hear this joke laugh when he heard it? As I said, the joke has become kind of a stock character of sorts representing all jokes everywhere and all bad jokes specifically. But that iconic status couldn’t have materialized out of thin air. Was it a really popular joke that just got told too much, making people sick of it to the point where they finally started mocking the thing? It must have been based in something somewhere in the past. Catch phrases are like that too. We say them and we know what they mean, but they don’t actually make sense in our modern context.

Example: “Close but no cigar.”

Heh? What the heck does a cigar have to do with guessing the wrong answer? Well, fairground games used to give away cigars as prizes. So when a patron missed the ring toss by an inch, the guy running the game would let loose with a phrase that actually meant something in contemporary context. Even though that context has disappeared over the years, the phrase still holds meaning.

Likewise, even though the chicken joke is no longer funny, we still recognize it, not only as a joke, but as THE joke. But where? When? Why? How did this particular joke earn such dubious longevity?

And moreover… why a chicken?