Funny Girl(s)?

I read this examination of an article first posted in Guardian by Germain Greer on Salon.com. The post, "Women aren't funny, redux," by Kate Harding makes a great number of points in reference to the perceived humor diaspora between men and women. I'm copying a couple of passages I feel the need to address:

For men, "having a good sense of humor" is defined as being funny; for women, "having a good sense of humor" is defined as laughing at men's jokes.
I love this statement, because it sums up some of the more awkward moments in my history of relating to other people. I cannot hang with someone who doesn't get me. Men or women who can't laugh at me being funny (or thinking I'm being funny) are not likely to stay around. And heaven forbid, I have to spend time with someone else who finds themselves more humorous than I do. Blech.

"Quiz show Mock the Week usually invites one woman every other week or so, and every time I have been watching she has been eclipsed by the furiously competing six males who complete the cast of the show. Before she can get a word out, one or other of them will have snatched the microphone and gone riffing away on something he prepared earlier and has adjusted for the precise occasion." This, of course, has nothing to do with sexism, with how little our culture values women's voices, with men feeling entitled to speak while women have been trained to listen like good girls. It has nothing to do with the women being outnumbered 6 to 1 -- and we won't consider why that is in the first place, either. The problem is, "There is, after all, an element of trainspotting, of one-track-mindism in comedy that is alien to women." Oh yeah, and we're not competitive enough. Which is also totally not learned behavior.
There is so much wrong with the assumptions drawn in this passage, it's hard to know where to begin. First, why on earth would they have one female participant every other week and expect to see equal performance abilities? That's like being surprised when a male guest on the view gets that deer-in-the-headlights look. And when it comes to being "competitive," I can attest to playing on a sports team with men where I was knocked out of the way for the guys to make a play which may or may not have been better than the one I would have made. All this illustrates is that, sure guys may step in quickly, but that never guarantees that their contributions are more valid or effective. And, in my case, when I had put in the time and personally built my own confidence, I was able to step up and make my own well-reasoned plays. I think we are too quick to equate foolhardiness with competitiveness.

My final commentary on the post is one that the author didn't include. There are references made to comedy competitions and festivals and how these events include mixed audiences and that just goes to show that even women think men are funnier. But lets talk about real life. When it comes to expendable income and time, the typical scenario is that men choose to spend theirs in different ways than women. So when we look at sales and consumption of movies, dvd's, and cd's of comedy, I imagine that we would find much higher instances of of this spending by men. Thusly, if we follow the tenet that part of the humor of comedy is the ability of the audience to identify with the artist, it stands to reason that male comedians enjoy a greater proportion of success than female artists.

Anyway, I may just be tooting my own horn because I think I'm funny. But it seems like maybe more of us should start tooting to get the attention of those 'wild and crazy competitive guys.'

Um, do you wanna hear something funny?

I figure I should note some funny events even though everyone I talk to has heard about them a million times. I could always hit my head and forget about my auspicious background : )=

My car broke down months ago. It was a '91 Geo Prizm, so I was not shocked when, right after dropping a couple hundred bucks to fix the ignition, both the exhaust and radiator become completely defunct. I was carless and seeking employment. I worked at a barely above minimum wage job within walking distance of my house. Finally, after numerous circular (read: agonizingly frustrating) conversations with my pop, he sent me money to buy some new wheels.

I searched CraigsList and decided to check out a 1986 Crown Victoria for $500. Got a ride to check it out and settled on the massive tank-of-a-vehicle. My reasoning was that V8 engines run forever and I don't do mass quantities of driving anyway, so what the hell if it's gets less than hybrid efficiency. First of all, we had the longest stretch of slick, icy, freezing weather which caused my new baby to drift terrifyingly about lanes of traffic. Secondly, I was stupid and decided to wait a week to get the car checked out. The first sign of trouble was an incident with overheating. Since I was at the store, I bought antifreeze (and oil, just in case I was low) and topped off the radiator.

Then, a couple of days later, in the midst of helping a friend put together a benefit, it happened. I was 'running' through the Jack-in-the-Box drive through to pick up food for a hungry queen. The cash registers were down. Can you feel the tension mounting? I sat in the drive through and the car started to smoke. Having driven my share of POS cars, I fidgetingly cursed and wiggled in my seat with no way to get out of the line. I was just blocks from my destination, so I hoped to limp there and deal with 'Princessconnie' later. As I rolled down the drive through lane and into traffic, she died. She died in the intersection. Thankfully I was facing uphill, so I dropped the gearshift into neutral and rolled to the curb.

I gave 6-8 feet of berth to fire hydrant on the corner and made sure I wasn't blocking a bus stop. I then hoofed 4 or 5 blocks in my party dress and heels. I didn't even check under my hood, because you never check under the hood of a recently overheated car. Well, the event went off without a hitch. As for the car, she no longer resided on the corner when I went to get her in the morning. I called the police and found that I was guilty of leaving a burning car on the side of the road. What kind of ass leaves a burning car on the side of the road? A few hyperventilating, sobbing, hours later we picked up the car and had it towed to a lot where I pocketed $75 from my $500 investment.

I then had to contend with the 4, that right, FOUR tickets left on my windshield. Two were for improper registration. No problem, I'd only owned the car for a week. As for the other two tickets. One was for parking less than 15 feet from a hydrant and the other was for abandoning my vehicle. So, if you ever plan on your car catching FIRE in the city of St. Louis, you need to remain in the vehicle and distance yourself as far as possible from any FIRE hydrants. Oh, well, I bought a bike (then became incapacitated in my right knee and a month later in my left foot). But those are stories for another time.