On Near-Death Humour

How long do you have to wait to make a joke?  There were a few events today that made quite a splash in the news puddle:

Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson died today.  Rumour has it that his funeral will involve a coffin being dangled and dropped from a high balcony.

Farrah Fawcett

Farrah Fawcett also died today.  Her long time partner, who kept a bedside vigil until she died, released this comment to the media: “I was with her the whole time, and just before she died, she turned to me, tears streaming down her face, and said ‘I love you’.  And as I brushed away her tears, I realised that this was one leaky Fawcett that wouldn’t be fixed.”

Jeff Goldblum

There were also unsubstantiated rumours of Jeff Goldblum’s death.  Interestingly, there wasn’t much of a public outpouring of grief towards him – perhaps it’s time for Jeff to get another PR manager?

Now, the question is, are these jokes acceptable?  I would expect that if I asked someone that question today, on the day of these people’s deaths, the answer would be no.  What about next week?  Maybe.  In a few months, in a few years?  A few years down the track, I can’t imagine these jokes being unacceptable at all.

This of course raises another question – what process is involved here, that makes a joke acceptable after a certain amount of time?  How long until we can laugh about more important issues?  Pick any event in distant history, and most people would have no problem with a joke about it, but make fun of the recent past, such as the Holocaust and, well…you can imagine what would happen.  (And trust me when I say I have a really good joke about it too, but won’t be posting it here anytime soon.)

There is an old adage, “time heals all wounds.”  Apart from the tautology of the term “old adage” (as it’s not an adage unless it’s been in use for some time), the sentiment seems to be relevant here.  And it is the sentiment we must examine, because as a form of medical advice it’s liable to bring many a malpractice suit.  (There was a movement in the 70’s of a new type of medicine in Australia, known as the “yeah mate, she’ll be right” school.  It didn’t last very long.)

But what healing is time accomplishing?  Grief, as most would agree, lessens with time.  It never goes away, but it does fade into the background.  Is it the grief that makes the humour offensive, the level of offence reducing in step with the grief?  Exactly who is offended?  Is it the recently widowed person, or their relatives?  Any joke made about the deceased to the widow would likely upset them I think, not necessarily because there was humour invovled, but because of the mention of the departed.  Or is it the relatives, hovering around, trying to protect the widow, discarding any remark that doesn’t fit in with the “you must be completely serious” attitude that western society has to death.  Or is it that you’re not allowed to disrespect the memory of the person who just died?

I don’t know where the problem lies – maybe it is a combination of all of the above – but this eradication of humour around death is not what I want when I finally pass on.  In the next few years I plan to write my funeral, or parts of it at least.  Example: as the coffin rolls behind those curtains to be cremated, I shall request to have “Oh my god, it burns, it burns!!” played over the speakers.  Grief is bad enough, let alone eliminating all the fun in it.

I just thought of another joke!  If you don’t like jokes of an offensive nature, best to stop reading now.

Rumour has it that Michael Jackson specifically requested for bubbles to be blown at his funeral, in much the same fashion that rice is thrown at a wedding.  A spokesman from Greenpeace released the following statement a few hours ago: “In light of these recent events, Greenpeace is doing everything it can to stop this horrid act from occurring – we will not rest until we have the full assurance of Jackson’s estate that no acts of bestiality will be performed on his pet chimpanzee during the funeral.”

On a side note, I see Ruben Guthrie tomorrow.