Some readers felt I was maligning adoption by placing into the same context as child labor and cannibalism. I thought the juxtaposition was ludicrous enough that no one could take it seriously. As I learned, some people take everything seriously.
The Dissolute Household (Jan Steen, Dutch, 1626–1679)
This painting depicts a “Jan Steen household,” a standard by which all later family dysfunction may be measured. The lady of the house tramples a Bible while having her wineglass refilled. Her husband and the maid join hands in a gesture suggesting service beyond the call of duty. The boy in blue fends off a beggar at the door, thus recalling the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19–31), in which the more fortunate figure goes to hell. Fate hangs over the family’s head in the form of a basket holding a sword and switch (signifying justice and punishment), a crutch and can (forecasting poverty), and a wooden clapper (used by lepers and the plague-stricken). In this (sixteen-) sixties sitcom, Steen himself stars as the father, his wife Margriet van Goyen as mom, and their sons Thaddeus and (next to grandma) Cornelis as themselves.
Always take notes at the museum so you can come home and learn how the crazy thing you saw is even crazier than you realized.
Fig. 2: A Feynman diagram of an encounter between a Romney and an anti-Romney. The resulting collision annihilates both, leaving behind a single electron and a $20 bill.
During the early 1990’s, it was common knowledge that the Oakland rapping guys were the most feared and respected in the game. My role as studio assistant was to make sure that the rapping guys had everything they needed to expedite the process of singing the raps: water, snacks, liquor, etc. You name it, I wrangled it. Top speed. Despite my efforts, the rapping guys were hesitant to view me as part of their inner circle.
Simple eavesdropping techniques had given me a rudimentary knowledge of the hierarchy of the group. The teenagers were mainly spectators, though some talent was evident. The big men were the muscle and the portly minions were backup vocalists. Both positions were very replaceable and therefore, insignificant. The Two Pack rapper was the clear leader. I knew that if I had a chance of gaining entry, it would no doubt require the blessing of Mr. Shaker himself.
“I have some granola bars,” I said.
They turned and looked at me, nobody saying a word. My face felt hot. Why did I do this? It was too late to back down.
“They’re good for energy. I noticed you guys are on your feet quite a bit in here.”
Still nothing. I continued.
“Well, okay. I’ll just set a pile of them here and if you don’t want them, no big deal. Okay? I’ll just be in the booth. Okay. Turning to walk over there now.”
Like a condemned man, I retreated to the booth and proceeded to curse myself, even going so far as to dig the sharp end of a pencil into my thigh. I was about to crawl under my desk to sob for a few minutes when out of the corner of my eye, I sensed movement. I turned just in time to catch the small miracle unfolding on the other side of the glass:
The rapping guys were eating the granola bars!
The Historic Role Of Humor In Egyptian Politics
Making fun of oppressive authorities has been an essential part of Egyptian life since the pharaohs. One 4,600-year-old barb recorded on papyrus joked that the only way you could convince the king to fish would be to wrap naked girls in fishing nets. Under Roman rule, Egyptian advocates were banned from practicing law because of their habit of making wisecracks, which the dour Romans thought would undermine the seriousness of the courts. Even Ibn Khaldun, the great 14th-century Arab philosopher from Tunis, noted that Egyptians were an unusually mirthful and irreverent people. Egyptian actor Kamal al-Shinnawi, himself a master of comedy, once said, “The joke is the devastating weapon which the Egyptians used against the invaders and occupiers. It was the valiant guerrilla that penetrated the palaces of the rulers and the bastions of the tyrants, disrupting their repose and filling their heart with panic.”
And there has been plenty of material over Egypt’s last half-century, marked as it has been by a succession of military leaders with little care for democracy or human rights. While Egyptians may be virtually powerless to change their rulers, they do have extensive freedom to mock, unlike in nearby Syria, where a wisecrack can land you in prison. In Egypt’s highly dense, hypersocial cities and villages, jokes are nearly universal icebreakers and conversation-starters, and the basic meta-joke, transcending rulers, ideology, and class barriers, almost always remains the same: Our leaders are idiots, our country’s a mess, but at least we’re in on the joke together.
Egypt’s rulers before Mubarak, Arab nationalist Gamal Abdel Nasser and Nobel Peace Prize winner Anwar Sadat, were flamboyant characters, and the jokes told about them reflected their larger-than-life personas. The paranoid Nasser was said to have deployed his secret police to collect the jokes made up about him and his iron-fisted leadership, just as the KGB anxiously monitored the fabled kitchen-table anekdoty about its gerontocratic leadership to really understand what was happening in the latter days of the Soviet Union. Sadat, though best known in the West for making peace with neighboring Israel, was the butt of joke after joke about his corrupt government and attractive wife, Jehan.
When Mubarak came to power after Sadat’s assassination, he was received with a mixture of relief and skepticism — relief because he appeared to be a steadier hand than Sadat, who grew increasingly paranoid in the year before his death, and skepticism because Mubarak was the opposite of anything like the charismatic leadership that Sadat and Nasser embodied. Mubarak was also, at least early on, something of a joker himself. Not long into his reign, he quipped that he had never expected to be appointed vice president. “When I got the call from Sadat,” he told an interviewer, “I thought he was going to make me the head of EgyptAir.”
