A Little Moronism

I don’t know why but whenever I think about the great American political system and how it has been continually spiraling into irrelevance since the late 60s, I start trying to remember exactly how the little moron joke goes. 

It was a joke I first heard while I was still in elementary school, and it seemed like everybody told a version of the little moron joke. It was funny as hell, in the beginning. It got to where all somebody had to do was start with, “Well, there were these two morons, and …” and everybody within half a block would start laughing and slapping each other and gasping for breath.

The first couple of thousand times the little moron was the funniest joke between Steinway and 42nd, from 21st to Astoria Blvd, and I don’t know when it happened precisely but it just disappeared, replaced by race jokes, elephant jokes, novelty music, sex jokes, and jokes about scumbags.

And it turns out whenever I try to remember the little moron joke, I only arrive at a variety of punchlines:

• Come on, you kidding me? He’s a little moron.
• Because he’s a little moron.
• It’s obvious, Sherlock. He’s a little moron.
• What can I say? I’m a little moron.

and I know how it all begins with the two morons, but what goes on to set up the punchline is a complete hole in my memory, my personal history, my specific part in the story of humorous life, I don’t have a clue. It’s a total blank.

But I find it encouraging that sometimes I still find myself laughing for no reason and only then slowly discovering that I was thinking about the little moron, and trying to remember how the story goes.

I don’t know why but whenever I think about the great American political system and how it has been continually spiraling into irrelevance since the late 60s, I start trying to remember exactly how the little moron joke goes. 

It was a joke I first heard while I was still in elementary school, and it seemed like everybody told a version of the little moron joke. It was funny as hell, in the beginning. It got to where all somebody had to do was start with, “Well, there were these two morons, and …” and everybody within half a block would start laughing and slapping each other and gasping for breath.

The first couple of thousand times the little moron was the funniest joke between Steinway and 42nd, from 21st to Astoria Blvd, and I don’t know when it happened precisely but it just disappeared, replaced by race jokes, elephant jokes, novelty music, sex jokes, and jokes about scumbags.

And it turns out whenever I try to remember the little moron joke, I only arrive at a variety of punchlines:

• Come on, you kidding me? He’s a little moron.
• Because he’s a little moron.
• It’s obvious, Sherlock. He’s a little moron.
• What can I say? I’m a little moron.

and I know how it all begins with the two morons, but what goes on to set up the punchline is a complete hole in my memory, my personal history, my specific part in the story of humorous life, I don’t have a clue. It’s a total blank.

But I find it encouraging that sometimes I still find myself laughing for no reason and only then slowly discovering that I was thinking about the little moron, and trying to remember how the story goes.