September 10, 2013
Seven jokes ruined by Rush Limbaugh’s new book for kids
by Dustin Kurtz
A horse walks into a bar.
The bartender asks, “Why the long face?”
The horse answers “Because a book by Rush Limbaugh, ostensibly for children, is currently the #1 book on Amazon. Also, evolution, probably. Is why my face is long. The question of ‘why’ is misleading when it comes to phenotype. But mostly the first reason.”
There once was a man from Nantucket
This man, despite hailing from really a very nice place—you should go sometime, if you haven’t been, it’s lovely, great beaches—for some reason pre-ordered a copy of a book in which a blow-hard misogynist Mary Sue galumphs clumsily through a dangerous revision of American history.
It’s not like he’s some kind of monster (our man from Nantucket I mean; Limbaugh most decidedly is) he’s just, I don’t know, a poor judge of where to spend his ten bucks maybe.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
I don’t know, why?
To find an oncoming car to shepherd it out of an existence in which many many people would like to buy a book for children written by Rush Limbaugh.
The title of this thing is Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims
Okay, you screwed up the joke structure there but I forgive you because that is a terrible title.
What’s black and white and red all over?
The joke doesn’t work when you write it down, so let’s just talk about how this book is about the Mayflower, I guess, but maybe also Paul Revere? I don’t have high hopes for the accuracy of this one. Do you think he’ll mention that many of his shipmates had not bathed a single time in their entire lives unless perhaps when they were put in a ducking chair as punishment?
A man goes into the doctor’s office, he says to the doctor “Doctor, you gotta help me, my wife thinks she’s a chicken!”
“How long has she been this way?” the doctor asks.
“Oh, for a couple of years now,” says the husband.
“Holy cow” says the doctor, “why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
“Well, in a world in which there are parents—generally concerned about the well-being of their children, no doubt most of them intelligent, fully competent people, good fathers and mothers, kind neighbors, conscientious drivers—in a world in which those people might also decide to give their children, or each other, or themselves, not a book about the politics or ethics of the Eastern seaboard before the cataclysm of European disease, not a book about the strange ventures that funded such journeys, or the vicissitudes of power that drove many puritans out, but rather a book in which Rush Limbaugh probably just typed “manifest destiny manifest destiny manifest destiny” for a hundred pages—in such a world, she seems okay by comparison.
Also relationships are complicated, and now I wonder if it would be a betrayal of what we’ve developed over these past years, my chicken-wife and I, if I were to seek to have her cured away, as if I were forsaking who she is now. Sorry, wait, are we still in a joke? Man, I messed that up. I was so distracted. Damn you Rush Limbaugh!”
Dustin Kurtz is former marketing manager of Melville House.