I Love Cranky, Old Ladies!

At first I was a little overwhelmed, while reading Descartes, Spencer, and Freud’s theories of laughter and humor. They focused on the physical and psychological reasons for laughing, more so then other theorists. For me, laughing is not about where blood, and oxygen move throughout your body to cause you to move the muscles in your mouth and utter absurd sounds. Nevertheless, the physical and mental reasons why we laugh need an explanation. Rather then ignoring the first halves of the texts, I did my best to sift through, what I consider, medical jargon. I remembered from my high school physics class, the law of conservation of energy states that energy cannot be created nor destroyed. When a humorous situation arises it excites the brain, which essentially shifts feelings, or energy to other parts of the body. This energy has to go somewhere, so it heads to the muscles, and thus we laugh. In my layman mind, I took away that laughter is the result of a transfer of energy.

Both Spencer and Freud are considered relief theorists, in regards to humor. The major causes of these “feelings” that move throughout our nervous system are the highs and lows of our humorous experiences, but where do the in-between emotions come in and why are they so satisfying? Spencer describes this in-between emotion, as simply “a pleasure in escaping from mental restraint.” Freud describes two ways in which humor can take place. The first is when, “one person may himself adopt a humorous attitude, while the second person acts as a spectator and derives enjoyment from the attitude of the first.” The second is when, “one of whom does not himself take any active share in producing humorous effect, but is regarded by the other in humorous light.” These are the experiences that I experience every day. They usually don’t make me laugh out loud, but they do make me smile, and in that sense they “liberat[e]” and “elevat[e]” me (Freud).

On Monday I had a humorous situation, similar to Freuds examples, at my weekly community service. I have been volunteering at C.A.R.E.S since the first semester of my freshman year. C.A.R.E.S is a food pantry that gives needy families in the Govans area food and financial assistance. I assist in a number of areas within C.A.R.E.S, and thus have acquired a number of close relationships with the volunteers around me. Lately, I have been working in the back helping to facilitate the packing and organizing of food donations. Bebe is the woman that “runs” the pantry aspect of C.A.R.E.S. She is a cranky, old lady that loves to bitch about everything. She has volunteered twice a week for God knows how many years. Most of the volunteers find her to be quite the pessimistic nuisance, but I love her. Bebe is terrible at communication, but very gifted in rebellion. That’s where I come in, I laugh at her comments, and communicate her intentions. I get and give the best of both worlds. Like most old ladies they get very worked up over unreasonable things. When I left for the holiday break, I gave Bebe the days I would be away; she forgot them. I called the week I got back, and sighed with relief. Bebe had thought I died or was in the hospital, because I showed up in weeks. When I arrived in Monday, she caught me up on all the gossip, and miserable things the Wednesday volunteers had done, since I had been away. After, service I walked home and had to smile. Bebe was so happy to have me back; she expressed it in a humorous way, but that’s why I love her.

These little situations that we experience every day do not cause energy to run down our nerves and make the muscles in our mouth move about in fits of laughter, but they do bring us pleasure. Freud describes the principal meaning of humor as, “Look here! This is all that this seemingly dangerous world amounts to. Child’s play – the very thing to jest about!” The pleasure that arises when we make light of the little things is what makes life worthwhile.

The Operating Table Axiom

Is our need for release a product of our physiology, unconscious psychology, or emotional passions? When reading the arguments by Spencer, Freud and Descartes, I was reminded of one of my sister’s most well-loved axioms about humor: When you put a joke on the operating table, it dies. In other words, when one overanalyzes anything comedic, it will always cease to be funny. It may have been the ‘operating table’ image that called this phrase to mind when I was reading—to me, the thinkers all presented their arguments about laughter in a basely cold and clinical fashion. These analytical essays reinforced the fact that their authors became famous by inspiring not laughter, but thought. Although I found certain ideas of theirs interesting, I ultimately could not help but wonder: if laugher truly is a product of relief or release, how useful is it to subject the process to so much scrutiny?  For something intended to release mental strain, why strain mentally to understand it? 

            In the fourth grade classroom at Govans Elementary where I am a teacher’s aide, the teacher, Mr. Pugh, is a firm believer in allowing his distraction-prone, fidgety students some outlet for release.  One of his new strategies is the reward cup for good behavior.  His rewards are unconventional for the academic setting, including such prizes as standing on chairs and throwing balled-up papers at the teacher for brief 30-second spans of time.  It is pell-mell chaos in that classroom during reward time; the bursts of laughter can likely be heard from a considerable distance down the school halls.  The children’s laughter is clearly meshed with joy and wonderment at their momentary liberation.  It doesn’t seem like scorn and derision are clear motivators—sorry, Descartes—but gratification of our unconscious ‘pleasure principle’ and post-suppression muscle convulsions both seem plausible. 

            The explanation Mr. Pugh gave me of his holistic teaching methodology seems most consistent with Spencer’s theory about laughter and physiology.  Mr. Pugh incorporates energy release into the routine of his students at most every opportunity, knowing the enormous impact of these small allowances on quelling potential fistfights and emotional breakdowns. Spencer maintains that unlike with other motion prompted by a feeling, “movements of the chest and limbs we make when laughing have no object” (104).  But for children, particularly restless ones, the energy release driven by this movement is the object.  Is this so different for adults?  My own body definitely gives me a positive physiological response every time I laugh with genuine feeling, but as Spencer suggests, this may be a product of venting mental energy rather than physical.  

            Ultimately, it still seems superfluous to me to examine in such exacting detail the general process of why we laugh.  True laughter is a good thing, good for us mentally and physically.  I take this as a given, and do not feel that my concept of laughter has benefitted by any of the exhaustive explanations advanced by Spencer, Freud and Descartes.  To me, it seems much more practical to focus on discovering what kinds of humor best promote laughter in the interest of laughing as much as possible.  Maybe some things are not to be questioned, but appreciated at face value. (Clearly I am no philosopher.)  The gratification that comes from laughter seems like something to be cherished rather than put on the operating table for an examination. Leave the procedural stuff to the trained professionals. I just want to laugh! 

The Unified Theory of Laughter (in 10 Words or Less)

Freud, Descartes, and Spencer present very intelligent theories on laughter; however, I do not think that any one of them can sufficiently explain everything about laughter as a result of humor or relief or for the myriad of reasons we laugh. The pattern that is emerging here is that each thinker makes a new discovery concerning laughter and then assumes that it is the final solution, as though they are unaware of other schools of thought. Mistaking this for truth, they fail to see that their discoveries are contributing to parts of a whole.
A friend of mine from Loyola was staying at my home in Pennsylvania so we could return together early for R.A. training, and while we were eating dinner one evening a curious event occurred. He and I exchanged a small anecdote with my father, who made a comment which reminded us of another mildly funny event, which we began to laugh at. As our laughter grew and grew we fell into greater hysterics. Our laughter fed on itself and we enjoyed our mirth for about five minutes straight. Gasping for breath afterwards we exchanged high-fives and joked about how good that felt.
This to me is a clear example of the Relief Theory of laughter in action. It was as if, as Spencer writes, “a large part of the nervous system was in a state of tension.” This would serve as a very good explanation as to why a joke provoked a volume of laughter disproportionate to its “funniness;” however, I feel that elements of Freud’s explanation must be addressed as they are similar. The laughter was definitely “liberating,” yet there was no need to repress any negative emotion, and the relief was not created due to a stressful situation or “the ego’s victorious assertion of its own invulnerability.” The day leading up to that point had been a good one with no negativity.
I believe strongly in laughter or mirth for its own sake, a concept we have yet to read about if it has been developed and expounded upon. It seems that the thinkers of history were intent on finding the ulterior motive of humor, an arduous process that yields worthwhile explanations for functions of humor such as satire, irony, and parody. Yet I cannot help but recall that as my friend and I laughed ourselves to the point of tears none of these thoughts entered into my mind. In the midst of laughter I think it important to remember that rarely will the meaning behind that laughter be present. There is a certain quality to laughter that ignores all reason when it occurs, as Plato would say. Whatever the cause of laughter, its immediate occurrence is (usually) a source of joy and amusement.
Paul Baran was a scientist who developed an algorithm called “packet-switching” for the design of the Internet. His was not the most important work for the Internet, but it was key and he realized that, “If you’re not careful, you can trick yourself into believing you did the most important part when actually, everything builds on everything else,” like pieces of a larger puzzle that form something larger than the sum of the parts. I believe that theories of humor belong to the same idea; each one discovers a new reason for a different type of humor. My own reasoning behind the mirth of laughter only builds on ideas that came before mine and is only a piece of a larger definition of humor. The one thing I think that must never be forgotten is to not assume that your answer is the only one, and to remember that everyone experiences laughter in their own unique way.

Descartes' Asthma, The Phillies, and The Pulmonary Grinch

Descartes argued that laughter could only accompany “moderate joys.” He argued that it was physiologically impossible for someone to laugh when they experience the greatest joys because joy causes blood to flow to the lungs, and the lungs require more blood in order to laugh. I wonder about the biological validity of these statements, particularly the idea that blood floods the lungs during the greatest joys, unless of course Descartes restricts the greatest joys to be only sexual climax, in which case he’s quite accurate – typically people don’t laugh during orgasm. This, however, seems more Freudian than Cartesian. I wonder about the validity of this theory particularly because in October of 2008 I experienced one of the greatest joys of my life, and I laughed. I laughed hard.

After the final out of the 2008 World Series, a picture was taken of me. This is that picture:



For a second, I closed my eyes and let it sink in. Someone thought it wise to capture the moment, and despite many jokes about my orgasmic expression, my baseballophilia, my "phetish", I'm glad they did. The Phillies had won the World Series. The city with a 25-year championship drought finally had a champion. The team that had won just one championship since its inception in 1883 (People, that’s 125 years), had won their second. After 18 years of saying, “There’s always next season,” four times a year for each of the major sports (72 seasons for those who are counting), I could finally say, “We did it.”

Then I just started laughing uncontrollably. I laughed until I cried. I laughed while I cried. I laughed after I cried. I laughed while on the phone celebrating with Grandpop and Dad back home. I laughed while I ran around outside whooping and screaming on Notre Dame’s soccer fields.

Perhaps Freud had a better handle on this kind of thing than Descartes did. Perhaps I was releasing 19 years of built up surplus psychic energy. Regardless, if I am sure of one thing, it is that I was joyous that night.

Maybe the laughter did have some sort of wonder tied up in it. After all, this was the city so desperate for a championship that we erected a statue for a fictional boxer that lost (Rocky Balboa). We made plans to have a victory parade for a horse if he won the Triple Crown, which he didn’t. We draped the statue of William Penn on top of City Hall in Flyers and Sixers jerseys in a sort of attempt to overcome the “Curse of Billy Penn” predicated on the idea that Philly teams stopped winning because the city legalized the construction of buildings taller than City Hall in the ‘80s. After the years of frustration and all of the absurdities that came with them, it might come as a bit of a shock when the losingest team in the history of professional sports, the first team in any sport to reach 10,000 losses, the Philadelphia Phillies won a championship. Despite the wonder, at the heart of all the insane laughter, was joy.

If Descartes is right, and we can’t laugh during great joy because of blood saturating the lungs from that joy, leaving no room for the blood needed to produce laughter, then I must be the pulmonary incarnation of the Grinch.

My lungs grew five sizes that day.

"Everything Else Goes Away" ~Next to Normal

I’ve always been a musical theater buff, and the theater is my favorite form of entertainment. Because of this, when I consider things that have made me laugh, a particular musical will naturally be the first thing to come to mind. This time, my thoughts went to the show Next to Normal, which, for those who are familiar with it, may seem to be an unlikely choice. Next to Normal tells the story of a highly dysfunctional family: a mother with bipolar disorder, a father who forces a positive attitude, a daughter who cannot handle her mother’s problem and father’s unwillingness to accept it, and a son who…well, I won’t completely ruin it. The themes include social stigmas of mental disorders and the difficulty of dealing with loss. Considering all of the serious issues this show deals with, one might wonder why on earth I would select this as a representation of humor. Actually, it is that exact reason that makes this such a perfect example. Amid heart-wrenching scenes that by the end have, quite literally, the entire audience in tears, one will hears peals of laughter. Although the show is deep and touching, it is also unquestionably a funny show. From the actions of the mother to the ridiculous quirks of the psychotherapist, the script is full of comic relief.

This kind of relief is how Sigmund Freud defines humor. “It is from the saving of expenditure in feeling that the hearer derives the humorous satisfaction” (112), he writes. We laugh at a situation or find pleasure in it because it takes away from feeling a less agreeable emotion. It gives us the ability to redirect stored up energy. Humor, he says, takes the energy that we store up for emotion and redirects it to lighthearted pleasure. This is exactly the case in Next to Normal. The audience begins to store up energy for the emotion they anticipate feeling for Diana, the mother, but that is redirected, for example, when the show takes the heavy subject of Diana’s medications and makes it less weighted in a song that largely exaggerates her psychopharmacologist’s prescriptions. Freud also talks about this redirecting of energy as a displacement of cathexis. He compares this displacement to “alternation between melancholia and mania” (115), and I found it ironic that he might compare a shift in energy focus to bipolar disorder, both of which are greatly present in this show.

Herbert Spencer describes laughter in a similar way. He explores the physiological explanation for laughter and calls it an expulsion of nervous energy. There are many different outlets for nervous energy, he explains, and depending on the situation, energy is discharged in different ways. It can cause certain emotion, ideas, or muscle activities. In the case of laughter, it is a reaction to joy that or certain typed of incongruity that causes nervous energy to take this particular outlet. I found that this was often my reaction while watching Next to Normal. Much of the laughter was mostly involuntary; it was simply my reaction to the tension built up by the story. I released energy that I had—probably, as Freud says, saved up for emotion—and felt a sort of respite from the emotional stress of the plotline. As Spencer says, the result of the laughter was relief.

Descartes view of laughter is one that I do not agree with, especially in relation to Next to Normal. He describes it as a reaction of hostility, anger, or scorn. When he does describe it in relation to wonder or joy, those positive emotions are also accompanied with some sort of hatred. He seems to think that all laughter is cruel or at least mean-spirited. Remembering what it was like to sit in the audience of Next to Normal, I could not disagree more. Although the audience laughed when Diana began manically making sandwiches, laying bread on the floor when no more fit on the table, the laughter cut out as soon as her husband became concerned and it was clear that she wasn’t just being silly. Even the characters to which the audience might garner some hostility, such as the husband, Dan, when his positivity hurt Diana, or the son Gabe when he caused problems, did not provoke laughter or even smirks when they showed pain. The sobs that filled the audience by the start of the second act also countered this view of laughter. Although some laughter may be cruel, that is a very narrow view of the reaction and certainly not one that should define it.

Laughter certainly functions as a relief and a release. I could not have been more grateful for the many humorous moments or witty lines in Next to Normal. It is the lightheartedness of some of the subject matter that makes it endurable, and the ability of the characters provoke laughter that makes it enjoyable. Without the humor, the show might still be decent but not quite as popular. The heavy subject matter coupled with a large amount of humor is actually essential to the effect on the audience. In some ways it teaches us to retain a sense of humor. And we learn from the experience, as I did watching the show, that the best relief is genuine laughter.

Come on, laugh with me!

At 9:59 am on Monday morning, I was scurrying to class. I was probably going to be late to Organic Chemistry, but I accepted it and walked a little bit faster to compensate for my lateness. My i-pod was in, I was in the zone, I was wearing what I thought was a pretty cool outfit. Overall I was thinking pretty highly of myself, preparing myself for the day with a good attitude and with a hopeful smile. As I was walking up the stairs to Knott Hall, I lost my footing and fell up the stairs. Literally, up the stairs. My hands were on the ground, my knees rested on two stairs below me, it was just like the movies.

And as I raised myself up from the ground I started laughing. It was a slightly manic and inane laughter. I looked around noting that people were all around me, and I turned to the stranger next to me saying, “It’s okay dude, you can laugh, that was so embarrassing”. I was laughing, I figured he should be too, but he just smiled awkwardly and didn’t say anything.

If I wasn’t taking a course in the studies of humor, I wouldn’t think twice about this embarrassing tale, but I can’t help but feel its relevance now. I realized two important elements during my mishap on the stairs: 1) It was okay for me to laugh, because it had happened to me, and I was allowed to laugh at myself and 2) I needed to justify my own laughter by giving the person next to me permission to laugh. What a contradiction! I actually said to the boy, “its okay, you can laugh”, as if he wasn’t dying laughing inside anyway. For goodness sake, after I said it I felt so stupid.

My laughter in this situation was out of embarrassment and fear of the boys laughter next to me. it seems that it was okay for me to laugh, but I hesitated when thinking that he might. As Freud says, “the humorous attitude only concerns the person who makes them the object of it”. In this case, I made myself the object of the laughter, so as to abate any embarrassment I might have felt otherwise. Freud explains my actions perfectly when he said “…man adopts a humorous attitude towards himself in order to ward off possible suffering”. Laughing at myself not only hid my humiliation, but in some respects ridded me of it. I was not flawed or embarrassed because I could laugh at myself, and this was my justification.

When I consider the show that I put on for the boy walking to class next to me, I can’t help but be drawn to what Spencer says about the containment of emotion. This can also be applied to humor when he says that “It is commonly remarked that the suppression of external signs of feeling, makes the feeling more intense”. It seems that I might have already known this. I knew that the boy wanted to laugh; I knew that he was trying to hold in his laughter to spare my feelings, and thus I felt the need to make him comfortable in his laughter by telling him that it was okay.

Perhaps when I think about the boy in context with the piece by Spencer, I must consider that he probably did not laugh because he did not share the emotions that I was feeling that caused me to laugh. As Spencer more poetically states, “…among several persons who witness the same ludicrous occurrence, there are some who do not laugh, it is because there has arisen in them an emotion not participated in by the rest…”. The boy did not share the emotion that I was feeling. Looking back, he probably wished he wasn’t there because I had made it so obvious that I had tripped in front of him. If I hadn’t ridiculously cackled, he probably would have pretended that he didn’t see me fall. Nice kid.

While I excused my behavior with laughter, I realized that my laughter had put another individual in a rather awkward position. Humor is different for all individuals, especially regarding certain situations. Humor cannot be forced, and laughter might not always be reciprocated. One thing I know for sure, I will definitely take my time on the stairs at 9:59, chemistry can wait, at least I still have my laughter.

The "Liberating Element" of Humor

This week's readings generated a lot of questions for me. I think I've come to the realization that all of these different theories of humor and laughter should be read for what they are, which is simply a proposed explanation. I've come to accept certain aspects of each theory, and I think that when combined these together form a fairly coherent explanation of the phenomenon that is humor. That being said, I don't think any one theory is all-encompassing. Descartes, Spencer, and Freud all seem to deal with the Relief/Release Theory of humor, and from class discussions it is clear that most of us have experienced laughter as a result of this type of situation.

Looking back on the past six months or so, I can see an increase in the relief/release type of laughter within my own family. Beginning in July, my 92-year old grandfather's health began to decline. We've watched my Dad and his siblings make heartbreaking decision involving lengthy hospital stays, hospice care, and nursing homes It has been a long and drawn out period of high stress, tension, and sadness. In the midst of it all, my family has grown closer, which is something I think that I subconsciously expected. What I did not expect was our turn to humor to heal our pain. Laughter swooped in to calm us, comfort us, and cure us. During the long hours in the hospital, nursing home, and even in our own homes, it seemed like we were always making jokes, telling funny stories, and giggling. The jokes and stories are most likely intended to "blow off steam" and ease tension, and perhaps the general propensity for laughter is "reflexive" release that Spencer describes. It could be nervous or tense laughter, but it certainly makes a difficult situation much more bearable. Based on my experiences, I agree with Freud's assertion that "the essence of humor is that one spares oneself the affects to which the situation would naturally give rise" (Freud 112). The situation that my family has been going through (witnessing and experiencing the rapid decline of a once vivacious relative) should give rise to grief and hysteria, but it has in fact created solidarity and humor. The emotions associated with the experience are so strong that they "Must expend [themselves] in some direction" (Spencer 102). It is truly a relief when the emotions that cause so much stress turn into laughter rather than tears. This is not to discount tears in any way; we will grieve when the time for grief arrives, but at this moment laughter really is the best medicine.

In this respect, the laughter has been "liberating" as Freud explains it. It has freed us from some negative emotions. It is also also "rebellious" (Freud 113). It sometimes feels wrong or out of line to be laughing when we should be suffering. This is where the line gets blurry. When is it okay to laugh or make jokes when the mood is tragic? When is it okay to "escape from the restraint of grave feelings" (Spencer 105)? How are we supposed to know when laughter is appropriate, and when it's tasteless? There is a line, but I find it difficult to articulate just where that line lies.