(Insert appropriate object of humor here)

I've always kept a large number of jokes in my head covering a wide variety of subjects. Many of them are repeats of previous jokes which are customized to the persons of ridicule in a given geographical area. What I was told as a Polish joke by a Jewish acquaintance 45 years ago became a Kentuckian joke, became a Hillbilly joke, became an Aggie joke and so on. (For the benefit of my friends not familiar with Texas, and Aggie is someone from Texas A&M University, a fine school indeed... unless you are a "Longhorn".)



When the one-liner "Redneck" jokes came around by way of Jeff Foxworthy, I became a fan.



What makes many jokes work are stereotypes... "the stingy scotsman" or "the dumb ----" or "the empty-headed---" or... well, you get the idea. Racial stereotypes can be funny, too, but there are lines which should not be crossed. On the whole, most racial jokes are not appropriate (ask Dr. Laura) as they are generally mean-spirited or really degrading.


This morning, I was witness to a family of stereotypes which occupied a portion of the day surgery waiting room at Baylor Hospital in Plano. The patient was accompanied by 8 adults and three children under the age of 8 - every one of them talking in a drawl so deep that the Grand Canyon would have had a hard time keeping up. I kept myself in a corner observing this crew from what I considered to be a safe distance. Among the group were the fat woman who couldn't keep her hands off the snacks (Hostess Miniature Donuts, followed by a large bag of Doritos), the Preacher (the only one of the males in the group with at least a sport coat and a decent shirt) and the thirty-something... I guess he was a mechanic... with the ball cap (complete with a tail coming out of the back), accidental beard, a dirty T-Shirt (at least it identified him or someone he knows as a blood donor) and Hawaiian shorts! To top it all off, one of the kids was named 'Bubba'.


Jeff Foxworthy would have been on the floor with this bunch.


Other than being a bit noisy and in seeming constant motion, they were relatively benign. The woman with the snacks (she was fat... not obese, but clearly more overweight than I am) spent the time she wasn't eating scolding the kids who had managed to bring in a miniature football and were throwing it in and around the area the group had staked out for themselves. The fellow with the ball cap was in and out on a regular basis. I suspect that he was stepping outside to smoke cigarettes on a regular basis. One of the group had a cell phone with a distinct ring tone. The name of that tune is "The Fishing Hole", written by the late Earl Hagen. You know it as the theme song for The Andy Griffith Show. I'm sure that the Hagen estate gets a cut every time someone purchases the song to use as a ring tone.


The group left the waiting room en-mass just twice. The first time was when it was announced that the patient was just about to be put under and wheeled into the operating room. Everyone had to say goodbye, don't you know. The second time came after some confusion... it was decided that the patient needed some overnight observation before undergoing the knife due to an irregular heartbeat. Everyone left and the room became almost deadly quiet. All that were left were two admissions reps, a waiting room volunteer, and three people (myself included) still in there waiting for news. I noted to one of the admissions persons that there seemed to be this giant sucking sound. Turns out it was the ventilation system.


It's not very often that I encounter the stereotypical. When I do, I end up cringing at the thoughts of the various jokes which seem to be playing out right in front of my eyes. A good part of the cringing has to do with the fact that I dare not laugh at what's going on. As I get older, the job gets harder.


By the way, the Lovely Miss Carol breezed through her surgery. We were home before 3:00.



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