A couple of years ago, I was enduring what many journalists consider a form of torture: the conference call interview.
On the other end of the phone was the multi-talented rapper and actress Queen Latifah, who was speaking with several reporters about an upcoming benefit show in Dallas.
The good news? I was next in line to speak with one of my all-time favorite performers. The bad news? Ms. Latifah seemed ready to doze off before I would get the chance. So I decided, spontaneously, to interject a little humor by mimicking her delivery of an early hip-hop verse as I introduced myself: “Queen L-a-t-i-f-a-h in command,’ heeeeeey!”
It could’ve backfired, but luckily for me, it built a rapport instead: Not only did the Her Royal Highness crack up, she playfully accused me of testing her rhyming skills and continued the conference call with a rejuvenated sense of energy and focus.
Queen Latifah’s response to my playful icebreaker proved that humor can dissolve tension and create instant camaraderie, even during the most mundane of tasks.
But what happens when what one person calls humor is actually just hateful and intended to hurt? When does a joke cross the line of good taste and become a weapon instead?
That’s what took place last week when Daniel Tosh, host of Tosh.0 on Comedy Central, told a rape joke during a stand-up routine at the Laugh Factory in Los Angeles. According to the club’s owner, a female audience member stood up and called out, “Actually, rape jokes are never funny!” Tosh then said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if that girl got raped by, like, five guys right now?”
Whoo. Hoo. What a knee-slapper. Hardy. Har. Har.
Obviously, the media pounced on this imbecilic response. Anti-violence groups decried Tosh’s flippancy about such a heinous act, while comedians Dane Cook, Gilbert Gottfried and Whoopi Goldberg defended his right to do so.
As we all know, humor is subjective. Some prefer a more sanitized sort of comedy (Bill Cosby, Carol Burnett), while others may gravitate to more profane jokes dished out by the likes of Wanda Sykes, George Lopez and the late George Carlin.
The job is not as easy as it looks: Anyone can recite a joke, but it takes timing, intellect and an awareness of human nature to be a successful comedian.
And in order to be successful, one typically doesn’t launch an attack on a paying audience member who just happens to disagree with a punch line.
Some have stated that the woman who objected aloud was a heckler who got what she deserved. And that as tacky as Tosh’s response may have been, he enjoys the same freedom of speech as the rest of us: Political correctness isn’t a requirement as long as the giggles keep coming.
And yes, some of those points are valid: Tosh’s job description doesn’t require him to be a card-carrying member of the ACLU. Maybe it was rude for an audience member to interrupt his monologue. But making light of a violent and traumatic assault to demean another human being isn’t smart or cutting edge, it’s just mean.
And not even a popular comic can make being humorous and being humiliated one and the same.
Lorrie Irby Jackson is a Briefing columnist. Email her at lorrie.irby@gmail.com.
