There’s always someone who doesn’t fit in.
NO BLONDE JOKES, NO NEWFIE JOKES, NO POLISH JOKES . . . JUST LOWER SLOBBOVIAN JOKES. WHEREVER YOU ARE IN THE WORLD, SOME SEGMENT OF THE POPULATION SEEMS RELEGATED TO BE THE ‘DIM WITTED, NOT TOO BRIGHT’ BRUNT OF HUMOR. IT’S NOT GOING AWAY. IN MY JOKE TELLING ENDEAVORS, I WANTED TO BE ABLE TO SHARE THE HUMOR OF THESE JOKES BUT WANTED MY STUDENTS TO APPRECIATE THAT THE UNDERLYING SLUR AGAINST BLONDES, NEWFIES, ETC. WAS UNKIND. ONE DAY, ON THE SPUR OF THE MOMENT, I HAD TO COME UP WITH AN ALTERNATIVE. ZING – LOWER SLOBBOVIAN POPPED INTO MY HEAD. IN MY YOUTH, I READ AL CAPP’S “L’IL ABNER” COMIC STRIP. CAPP EMPLOYED LOWER SLOBBOVIANS. AS I RECALL, THEY LIVED IN A LAND OF ICE AND SNOW BUT WEREN’T PARTICULARLY SLOW WITTED. THE TERM JUST POPPED INTO MY HEAD AS A POSSIBLE IMAGINARY RACE TO WHOM ONE COULD ATTRIBUTE THE NECESSARY INABILITIES REQUIRED. SO NOW, YOU KNOW WHY I USE LOWER SLOBBOVIANS.(I HOPE.)
Three prisoners sat in a jail cell awaiting execution by firing squad. There was an American, a Canadian, and a Lower Slobbovian. The first two men seemed calm and relaxed but the Lower Slobbovian was scared to death.
“How can you two be so calm and relaxed?” asked the Slobbovian.
The other two men explained that they weren’t worried; they had a plan. Each man was to be taken, one at a time, and made to stand against the low prison wall, and be blindfolded before being shot. Each man would be given the chance to say one last thing before the bullets were fired. The American and Canadian explained that when they were given the chance to say something, they would scream out the name of some terrible natural disaster. When the men of the firing squad ducked for cover, the prisoner would rip off his blindfold, jump over the wall, and escape.
When the American was taken out first, the Lower Slobbovian watched in amazement. At precisely the right moment, the American yelled, “Earthquake!” While the firing squad ran for cover, the American escaped.
When it was the Canadian’s turn, as he stood blindfolded against the prison wall, he yelled, “Tidal Wave!” He too escaped during the confusion.
At last, the Lower Slobbovian was taken out, blindfolded, and made to stand at attention against the prison wall. His mind raced. He knew he couldn’t yell Earthquake or Tidal Wave – those two had been taken. What would he say? What would he say?
The soldiers stood with rifles raised, the commander asked if the prisoner had any last words, and the only natural disaster the Slobbovian could think to yell was, “Fire!”
* * *
A Lower Slobbovian woman went to see the doctor. She complained that she hurt all over and feared she must have broken every bone in her body.
The doctor was surprised and asked the lady to explain.
His patient said, “Watch this.” She poked herself in the arm and cried out in pain. Then she touched her hip and again cried out. She touched her stomach, her knee, her ankle and various other parts of her body – each time showing considerable pain as she did so.
The doctor was puzzled because she had been able to walk into the examining room and generally seemed quite healthy. As doctors will do, he examined her and did a lot of “Uhuh-ing” and “Ahem-ing” and scribbling sloppily on a small pad of paper.
When he was finished his examination, he declared, “I believe I had discovered your injury.”
“Oh, that’s great,” gushed the Lower Slobbovian woman. “What am I suffering from?”
The doctor replied, “You have a . . . broken finger.”