Watch Out For the Flying Folding Chairs, It’s The Noam Chomsky Show!

The word “philoso­pher” tends to con­jure up the arche­typ­al image of an ascetic fig­ure stand­ing above the fol­lies of every­day life, absorbed in thought. Per­haps that’s why so many peo­ple have found it fas­ci­nat­ing to hear of the dis­agree­ments between Noam Chom­sky and Slavoj Žižek.

Sev­er­al weeks ago we post­ed an excerpt from an inter­view in which Chom­sky accus­es Žižek, along with Jacques Lacan and Jacques Der­ri­da, of emp­ty “pos­tur­ing.” Yes­ter­day we post­ed Žižek’s response to Chom­sky: “I don’t think I know a guy who was so often empir­i­cal­ly wrong.” Some of the respons­es have been amus­ing. “The gloves are off!” wrote one read­er on Twit­ter. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” said anoth­er.

Of course, we should bear in mind that the two celebri­ty intel­lec­tu­als are not real­ly at each oth­er’s throats. Chom­sky gave his brief assess­ment of Žižek and the oth­ers in response to a ques­tion dur­ing a long inter­view back in Decem­ber. Žižek’s remarks were a small part of a two-hour pan­el dis­cus­sion on var­i­ous top­ics. It’s hard to imag­ine either man seething over what the oth­er has said.

Still, the bois­ter­ous­ness of many of the respons­es remind­ed us of the stu­dio audi­ence in this 2009 sketch (above) from The Chaser’s War on Every­thing, an Aus­tralian com­e­dy show. The sketch is a par­o­dy of The Jer­ry Springer Show and the oth­er tabloid TV talk shows that mul­ti­plied like weeds in the 1990s. It’s extreme­ly sil­ly, but good for a laugh.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Noam Chom­sky Slams Žižek and Lacan: Emp­ty ‘Pos­tur­ing’

Slavoj Žižek Responds to Noam Chom­sky: ‘I Don’t Know a Guy Who Was So Often Empir­i­cal­ly Wrong’

Noam Chom­sky Calls Post­mod­ern Cri­tiques of Sci­ence Over-Inflat­ed “Poly­syl­lab­ic Tru­isms”

Clash of the Titans: Noam Chom­sky & Michel Fou­cault Debate Human Nature & Pow­er on Dutch TV, 1971

 

World-Renowned Graphic Designer Milton Glaser Has a Laugh on Old Jews Telling Jokes

Old Jews Telling Jokes: as Youtube series go, this one has a cer­tain con­cep­tu­al puri­ty. That its videos have become very pop­u­lar indeed won’t come as a sur­prise to any­one who grew up in a large Jew­ish fam­i­ly; you want a joke told right, you go to the top of the fam­i­ly tree. We’ve seen jokes told by den­tistsbusi­ness­men and even the likes of lawyer and polit­i­cal com­men­ta­tor Alan Der­showitz and for­mer New York City may­or Ed Koch. Above you’ll see “I Want to Have a Mon­key,” one of the series’ jokes told by graph­ic design­er and New York mag­a­zine co-founder Mil­ton Glaser, cre­ator of logos for DC Comics, the Brook­lyn Brew­ery, and of course, in the form of the uni­ver­sal­ly rec­og­nized I ♥ NY, his city. You can learn more about his 60-year design career in the short doc­u­men­tary by Hill­man Cur­tis just below:

Unlike most of the videos’ stars, who stand in front of a stan­dard white back­ground, Glaser tells his jokes in a more inter­est­ing set­ting: his long­time office, of which you’ll see more in Cur­tis’ doc­u­men­tary. When the Old Jews Telling Jokes crew turned up, they found in this force of graph­ic design a ver­i­ta­ble fount of punch­lines. He demon­strates his comedic acu­men in eight oth­er episodes: “The Res­ur­rect­ing Rab­bi,” “Magi­cian and a Sledge­ham­mer,” “Two Gar­men­tos,” “Edward R. Mur­row,” “Am I Thirsty,” “Ele­phant and Croc­o­dile,” “I’d Like to Be Cas­trat­ed,” and “The Par­rot.” Here we have anoth­er les­son to take from our elders, or at least from this spe­cif­ic elder: you can’t just rise to and remain for decades at the very top of your exot­ic and chal­leng­ing field. You’ve also got to have good tim­ing.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Most “Intel­lec­tu­al Jokes”: Our Favorite Open Cul­ture Read­er Sub­mis­sions

Sketch­es of Artists by the Late New Media Design­er Hill­man Cur­tis

Mick­ey Mouse In Viet­nam: The Lost Anti-War Ani­ma­tion from 1968

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s … John Lydon in a Butter Commercial?

A few days ago we post­ed an exple­tive-laced let­ter that John Lydon, for­mer­ly known as “John­ny Rot­ten,” faxed to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2006 to make it clear that the sur­viv­ing mem­bers of the Sex Pis­tols would have noth­ing to do with their induc­tion. “We’re not your mon­key,” he wrote. At least one read­er felt edi­fied. “Thanks JR,” he said, “for not sell­ing out.”

So we thought it would be a fun time to bring back Lydon’s 2008 com­mer­cial for Coun­try Life But­ter. The ad, which report­ed­ly net­ted Lydon a cool $8 mil­lion, plays on the incon­gruity between two very British things: the icon­ic punk rock­er and a rather bucol­ic-sound­ing brand of but­ter. The com­mer­cial places Lydon in a series of unchar­ac­ter­is­tic sit­u­a­tions — read­ing the news­pa­per in a gen­tle­men’s smok­ing room, wav­ing the Union Jack as the Queen’s motor­cade goes by, run­ning from cows in the Eng­lish coun­try­side — as he says to the view­er, “Do I buy Coun­try Life But­ter because it’s British?” Do I buy Coun­try Life because I yearn for the British coun­try­side? Or because it’s made only from British milk? Nah. I buy Coun­try Life because I think it’s the best.”

Lydon drew a great deal of crit­i­cism for his deci­sion to appear in the ad, but he has been stead­fast­ly unapolo­getic. “The advert was for a British prod­uct,” he told The Sun last year. “All Britain. Fan­tas­tic. We don’t seem to believe in our­selves as a coun­try any more. And I found great empa­thy with that. Plus it was the most mad­dest thing to con­sid­er doing. I thought it was very anar­chic of the dairy com­pa­ny to want to attach them­selves to me. And they treat­ed me with the utmost respect and I love them for­ev­er as it all allowed me to set up my record label and put out this record.”

Lydon was refer­ring to This Is PiL, the first album in 20 years from his post-punk band Pub­lic Image Ltd. He report­ed­ly used some of the mon­ey from the com­mer­cial to bring the group back togeth­er for rehearsals, record the album and launch their 2012 tour. “The mon­ey,” he said, “got us out of no end of trou­bles.” And any­way, Lydon has always had a sense of humor when it comes to the finan­cial demands of life. His 1996 reunion with the Sex Pis­tols was offi­cial­ly named the “Filthy Lucre Tour.”

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

John­ny Rotten’s Cor­dial Let­ter to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: Next to the Sex Pis­tols, You’re ‘a Piss Stain’

The His­to­ry of Punk Rock: A Doc­u­men­tary

The Art of Punk, MOCA’s Series of Punk Doc­u­men­taries, Begins with Black Flag

Mal­colm McLaren on The Quest for Authen­tic Cre­ativ­i­ty

Punk Meets High Fash­ion in Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art Exhi­bi­tionPUNK: Chaos to Cou­ture

Three Great Films Starring Charlie Chaplin, the True Icon of Silent Comedy

Writ­ing about the sort of cre­ators and works of art we do here at Open Cul­ture, I con­stant­ly strug­gle not to overuse the word “icon­ic.” But in the case of actor and film­mak­er Char­lie Chap­lin, no oth­er adjec­tive could do. When we call Chap­lin icon­ic, we mean it lit­er­al­ly: not only did he find great suc­cess as a com­ic fig­ure in the silent-film era, he visu­al­ly rep­re­sents the con­cept of a com­ic fig­ure in the silent film era. Yet he did­n’t attain icon sta­tus in just one form, hav­ing con­tin­u­al­ly tweaked, refined, and improved his look and sen­si­bil­i­ty through­out his 75-year career. Now, 35 years after his death, we see all of these per­for­mances as sub­tly dif­fer­ent but still rec­og­nize them as expres­sions of the broad­er Chap­lin per­sona. At the top of the post, you can watch the film that estab­lished his most beloved one, 1915’s The Tramp.

But the Lit­tle Tramp did­n’t emerge ful­ly formed just then and there. Tech­ni­cal­ly, the char­ac­ter debuted in the pre­vi­ous year’s Kid Auto Races at Venice, and even before that, Chap­lin por­trayed a few fel­lows we might call pro­to-Tramps. Just above, you’ll find 1914’s Mak­ing a Liv­ing, a pic­ture that casts the Lon­don-born Chap­lin, with hat, cane, and mus­tache, as flir­ta­tious thief Hen­ry Eng­lish. His crim­i­nal ways lead him into the path of those oth­er silent-com­e­dy stal­warts (if not quite icons), the Key­stone Kops. A decade lat­er, Chap­lin, by that point the quin­tes­sen­tial writ­ing-direct­ing-act­ing auteur, would­n’t need to share the screen. In 1925, he made the Klondike-set The Gold Rush, whose “streaks of poet­ry, pathos, ten­der­ness, linked with brusque­ness and bois­ter­ous­ness” drew spe­cial praise from the New York Times, and for which Chap­lin said he want­ed to be remem­bered. You can watch it below, and then you can browse our col­lec­tion of 25 Free Char­lie Chap­lin Films on the web.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pow­er of Silent Movies, with The Artist Direc­tor Michel Haz­anavi­cius

Hol­ly­wood, Epic Doc­u­men­tary Chron­i­cles the Ear­ly His­to­ry of Cin­e­ma

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The Most “Intellectual Jokes”: Our Favorite Open Culture Reader Submissions

Last week, we point­ed to a Red­dit thread that asked for users’ most “intel­lec­tu­al jokes.” Using that idea as a plat­form, we asked our read­ers to sub­mit their favorites, and we received a healthy num­ber of howlers (and some clunk­ers). We also got a piece of dour crit­i­cism from one read­er, who wrote, “real­ly? intel­li­gent humor means that it’s wit­ty and sub­tle, not that it’s [sic] stan­dard type of joke with ‘smarter’ con­tent..
come on amer­i­cans, you can do bet­ter.”

I can only assume two things here (per­haps mak­ing an an ass of u and me): the writer is not an “amer­i­can” and is some­thing of a con­nois­seur of what he or she calls “intel­li­gent humor.” I am very sym­pa­thet­ic. Whether this per­son has in mind the mor­dant absur­dism of Beck­ett, the tren­chant wit of Swift or Wilde, the sur­re­al­is­tic flights of farce in Von­negut, or the heights of high-toned silli­ness in Mon­ty Python, I can’t say. All of these are excel­lent exam­ples of “intel­li­gent humor.”

But I’m afraid our read­er has mis­read the prompt, which asked specif­i­cal­ly for “intel­lec­tu­al jokes”—like the ani­mat­ed New York­er car­toon above. The for­mu­la for jokes every­one knows: set­up, punch­line. The “intel­lec­tu­al” part relates, I think, express­ly to the “smarter” con­tent, but the judg­ment of such humor is sub­jec­tive, of course, and in the brief selec­tion below of my favorite sub­mis­sions, I will cer­tain­ly admit as much. My sense of humor is nei­ther wit­ty nor sub­tle; I’m par­tial to the puerile—puns, sil­ly rever­sals, broad satire. Of course, the same can be said of all of the writ­ers above to some degree or anoth­er.

So with­out fur­ther going-on about it, here are a few of my favorite Open Cul­ture read­ers’ “intel­lec­tu­al jokes” (with my edi­to­r­i­al intru­sions in brack­ets):

  • Rene Descartes is attend­ing a soiree at the Palais Ver­sailles. A som­me­li­er approach­es and asks, “Mon­sieur Descartes, would you like a glass of wine?” Descartes paus­es and answers, “I think not.” And poof!–he dis­ap­pears.

[This one’s not par­tic­u­lar­ly funny—it’s cute—but I quite like the speci­fici­ty in the set­up and the fun sur­prise of “poof!”]

  •  I used to be a struc­tur­al lin­guist, but now I’m not Saus­sure.

[Told you I like puns]

  • Masochist walks up to a sadist in a bar, says to the sadist “hurt me.” Sadist says “no.”
  • What do you get when you com­bine a joke with a rhetor­i­cal ques­tion?

[So dry and dead­pan, these two. Love it.]

  • What did the indige­nous per­son say to the post­mod­ern anthro­pol­o­gist? “Can we talk about me for a change?”

[A lit­tle crack at navel-gaz­ing po-mo academics—part of a pop­u­lar genre]

  • Blind guy with a see­ing eye dog walks into a depart­ment store. Guy picks up dog by the tail and starts swing­ing him around over his head. Clerk rush­es over and says ner­vous­ly “Can I help you sir?” Guy replies: “No thanks, I’m just look­ing around.”

[I don’t think the con­tent of this one is par­tic­u­lar­ly “intel­lec­tu­al,” but the style is—it’s dark and weird and skirts a line between slap­stick and cru­el­ty, requir­ing a mor­bid and elas­tic imag­i­na­tion.]

  • Q: What does a dyslex­ic, agnos­tic insom­ni­ac do? A: Stays up nights won­der­ing if there’s a dog.
  • JOKE: What do Japan­ese pigeons sing? Answer: High Coos

[More puns, bless ‘em]

  • Argon walks into a bar and orders a drink. The bar­tender says, “sir, we don’t serve noble gasses.”
 There was no reac­tion.

[For you sci­ence types. Anoth­er read­er responds with a pun for bonus points]:

  • Thanks. Now all the good chem­istry jokes Argon.

Good work, read­ers. Keep ‘em com­ing. This was fun. Remem­ber, you can scan through the oth­er sub­mis­sions here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

What’s the Most Intel­lec­tu­al Joke You Know?: The Best from Red­dit (and You?)

New York­er Car­toon Edi­tor Bob Mankoff Reveals the Secret of a Suc­cess­ful New York­er Car­toon

What’s the Deal with Pop Tarts? Jer­ry Sein­feld Explains How to Write a Joke

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

What’s the Most Intellectual Joke You Know?: The Best from Reddit (and You?)

Long before cap­i­tal “A” Acad­e­mia became a pro­fes­sion­al net­work of accred­it­ed schol­ars and fund-grub­bing insti­tu­tions, intel­lec­tu­al dis­course con­sist­ed of near­ly as much humor—bad puns, scat­ol­ogy, innu­en­do, bit­ing caricature—as deep philo­soph­i­cal dia­logue and sparkling eru­di­tion. So-called “wits” gath­ered in cof­fee hous­es to trade barbs and bon mots and to cir­cu­late their favorite lit­er­ary satires from writ­ers like Jonathan Swift, Alexan­der Pope, and John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester, whose poet­ic out­put was often equal parts raunchy prosody and thought­ful crit­i­cal inquiry.

In our dig­i­tal times, intel­lec­tu­al humor bub­bles around the mar­gins of high cul­ture, as much as in the oblique car­toons of The New York­er as in forums like Red­dit, where jokes can be crude, hate­ful, and bor­der­line psy­chot­ic, or gen­uine­ly wit­ty and unique. Slate recent­ly picked up on a Red­dit thread that asked users “what’s the most intel­lec­tu­al joke you know?” The authors of the Slate piece com­piled sev­er­al con­tenders (and inane­ly explained each joke with  “why it’s fun­ny” addenda—good humor should­n’t require didac­tic com­men­tary).

Below, find a sam­pling of some of the Red­dit sub­mis­sions. In the com­ments sec­tion, please feel free to sub­mit your own “intel­lec­tu­al jokes” after perus­ing Red­dit to make sure some­one hasn’t beat you to the punch­line.

  • From user Watch_Closely: “It’s hard to explain puns to klep­to­ma­ni­acs because they always take things lit­er­al­ly.”
  • From user Arca­di­an 5656: “A biol­o­gist, a chemist, and a sta­tis­ti­cian are out hunt­ing. The biol­o­gist shoots at a deer and miss­es 5ft to the left, the chemist takes a shot and miss­es 5ft to the right, and the sta­tis­ti­cian yells, ‘We got ‘im!’ ”
  • From user shan­n­man: “Who does Polyphe­mus hate more than Odysseus? Nobody!”

And below, two of the Red­di­tors’ favorites:

  • From user phattmatt: “Jean-Paul Sartre is sit­ting at a French cafe, revis­ing his draft of Being and Noth­ing­ness. He says to the wait­ress, “I’d like a cup of cof­fee, please, with no cream.” The wait­ress replies, “I’m sor­ry, Mon­sieur, but we’re out of cream. How about with no milk?”
  • From user snake­sand­doves: “An Irish­man goes to a build­ing site for his first day of work, and a cou­ple of Eng­lish­men think, ‘Ah, we’ll have some fun with him!’ So they walk up and say, ‘Hey, Pad­dy, as you’re new here make sure you know a joist from a gird­er…’ ‘Ah, sure, I knows’ says Pad­dy, ‘twas Joyce wrote Ulysses and Goethe wrote Faust.’”

Some clever humor above, I’d say (and in the ani­mat­ed New York­er car­toon at the top of the post). So, you think you can do bet­ter? Let’s hear your jokes in the com­ments.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

New York­er Car­toon Edi­tor Bob Mankoff Reveals the Secret of a Suc­cess­ful New York­er Car­toon

Friedrich Niet­zsche & Exis­ten­tial­ism Explained to Five-Year-Olds (in Com­i­cal Video by Red­dit)

What’s the Deal with Pop Tarts? Jer­ry Sein­feld Explains How to Write a Joke

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

New Yorker Cartoon Editor Bob Mankoff Reveals the Secret of a Successful New Yorker Cartoon

A friend of mine rails against the New York­er’s week­ly car­toon cap­tion con­test, insist­ing that while the read­er-sub­mit­ted entries are uni­ver­sal­ly bad, the win­ner is always the weak­est of the lot.

I dis­agree, agog at peo­ple’s clev­er­ness. Any line I come up with feels too obvi­ous or too obscure. Unlike my friend, I nev­er feel I could do bet­ter.

Car­toon edi­tor Bob Mankof­f’s recent TED Talk offers some key insights into what the mag­a­zine is look­ing for (incon­gruity, dis­po­si­tion­al humor, cog­ni­tive mash ups), as well as what it’s not inter­est­ed in (gross-out jokes, mild child-cen­tered can­ni­bal­ism) He also cites for­mer con­trib­u­tor and author of my father’s favorite New York­er car­toon, E.B. White on the futil­i­ty of ana­lyz­ing humor.

Fre­quent con­trib­u­tor Matthew Dif­fee’s short  satir­i­cal film Being Bob sug­gests Mankoff edi­to­r­i­al selec­tions owe much to gut response (and a jerk­ing knee). Such intu­ition is hard won. Mankoff glee­ful­ly alludes to the 2000 rejec­tion let­ters he him­self received between 1974 and 1977, fol­low­ing an uncer­e­mo­ni­ous dis­missal from psy­chol­o­gy school. Then, final­ly, he got his first accep­tance.

That accep­tance let­ter is some­thing to see.

Ayun Hal­l­i­day used Charles Bar­sotti’s New York­er car­toon of a danc­ing bird as her high­school year­book’s senior say­ing. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The New Yorker’s Fic­tion Pod­cast: Where Great Writ­ers Read Sto­ries by Great Writ­ers

Improv with New York­er Car­toon­ists

Einstein’s Rel­a­tiv­i­ty: An Ani­mat­ed New York­er Car­toon

The Do’s and Don’ts of Improv Comedy with Liam Neeson, Ricky Gervais, Tina Fey, and Del Close

Atten­tion, all strug­gling come­di­ans! There’s big mon­ey in teach­ing cor­po­rate exec­u­tives the rules of impro­vi­sa­tion. Not to pre­pare them for a high­ly lucra­tive sec­ond career on some late night, black box stage, but rather to hone their lis­ten­ing skills, teach them how to work col­lab­o­ra­tive­ly, and give them prac­tice com­mu­ni­cat­ing in a flexible—and there­fore effective—manner.

The above clip from Ricky Ger­vais and Stephen Mer­chan­t’s Life’s Too Short, sug­gests that actor Liam Nee­son might ben­e­fit from sim­i­lar train­ing.

Or are Ger­vais and Mer­chant guilty of fail­ing to embrace the Rules of Improv, when Nee­son, hav­ing solicit­ed a sug­ges­tion of “hypochon­dri­ac at the doc­tor’s office” from series star War­wick Davis, announces that he’s con­tract­ed full blown AIDS from a starv­ing African pros­ti­tute?

Even though it’s obvi­ous that the supreme­ly gift­ed Nee­son is hav­ing a laugh, let’s see if we can deter­mine who’s break­ing the car­di­nal rules of improv in this scene.

Come­di­an Tina Fey has Four Rules of Improv that res­onate with both busi­ness and fun­ny peo­ple:

  1. The first rule of impro­vi­sa­tion is to AGREE. 
  2. The sec­ond rule of improv is to not only say YES, say YES, AND.
  3. The next rule is MAKE STATEMENTS. (Nee­son does great in this depart­ment)
  4. THERE ARE NO MISTAKES only OPPORTUNITIES. 

Hmm. One thing’s clear. A bad impro­vis­er can drag the most gift­ed prac­ti­tion­ers of the form down with him.

The bril­liance of the script­ed scene recalls late improv guru Del Close’s Eleven Com­mand­ments:

  1. You are all sup­port­ing actors.
  2. Always check your impuls­es.
  3. Nev­er enter a scene unless you are NEEDED.
  4. Save your fel­low actor, don’t wor­ry about the piece.
  5. Your prime respon­si­bil­i­ty is to sup­port.
  6. Work at the top of your brains at all times.
  7. Nev­er under­es­ti­mate or con­de­scend to your audi­ence.
  8. No jokes (unless it is tipped in front that it is a joke.)
  9. Trust… trust your fel­low actors to sup­port you; trust them to come through if you lay some­thing heavy on them; trust your­self.
  10. Avoid judg­ing what is going down except in terms of whether it needs help (either by enter­ing or cut­ting), what can best fol­low, or how you can sup­port it imag­i­na­tive­ly if your sup­port is called for.
  11. LISTEN

That’s like­ly ample rules, though it’s tempt­ing to add:

Nev­er (or per­haps always) pre­tend to knock on a door by say­ing “knock knock.”

Nev­er (or per­haps always) pre­tend to open a shop door by say­ing “tring.”

Nev­er (or per­haps always) iden­ti­fy a “well known homo­sex­u­al actor” by name.

And if any cor­po­rate clients—or Ricky Ger­vais—need lessons in how to keep from “corps­ing” while deliv­er­ing fun­ny mate­r­i­al, Liam Nee­son is for sure the man for the job.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ricky Ger­vais Presents “Learn Gui­tar with David Brent”

“Learn Eng­lish With Ricky Ger­vais,” A New Pod­cast Debuts (NSFW)

Tina Fey Brings Bossy­pants Tour to Google

Ayun Hal­l­i­day was a found­ing mem­ber of The No Fun Mud Pira­nhas, North­west­ern Uni­ver­si­ty’s Improv Olympic Team. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

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