Week of November 8, 2010

The issue here is whether a woman’s sense of humor is different from a man’s, or, as some men would argue, whether women have any sense of humor at all. Author Bunkers argues that yes, women do have senses of humor, perhaps several different senses of humor.

Be sure you are able to distinguish between self-deprecating humor and Sarcasm, as well as the different situations which call these senses of humor into play. Read the poetry carefully, especially Mistress Anne Bradstreet, New England’s first published poet. You’ll see a parallel, I hope, with the piece by Edna St. Vincent Millay a page or two following. You'll also catch some additional parallels with the poetry I've posted here to the left. Bunkers has given partial lyrics. I've located the whole kit and caboodle..

I also want you to do a little hunting on your own. Dorothy Parker was perhaps the most popular writing celebrity in the New York of the 1920s and 1930s. Brilliant, and an expert at both self-depratory humor and sarcasm. I'd like to have you browse through her poetry and choose one to copy into your journal. Bring a copy to class and be prepared to read it aloud. None of them are very long. You'll find links to her poems below the her picture (following "mammary glands" no pun intended).

You wined me and dined me

When I was your girl

Promised if I'd be your wife

You'd show me the world

But all I've seen of this old world

Is a bed and a doctor bill

I'm tearin' down your brooder house

'Cause now I've got the pill

All these years I've stayed at home

While you had all your fun

And every year thats gone by

Another babys come

There's a gonna be some changes made

Right here on nursery hill

You've set this chicken your last time

'Cause now I've got the pill

This old maternity dress I've got

Is goin' in the garbage

The clothes I'm wearin' from now on

Won't take up so much yardage

Miniskirts, hot pants and a few little fancy frills

Yeah I'm makin' up for all those years

Since I've got the pill

I'm tired of all your crowin'

How you and your hens play

While holdin' a couple in my arms

Another's on the way

This chicken's done tore up her nest

And I'm ready to make a deal

And ya can't afford to turn it down

'Cause you know I've got the pill

This incubator is overused

Because you've kept it filled

The feelin' good comes easy now

Since I've got the pill

It's gettin' dark it's roostin' time

Tonight's too good to be real

Oh but daddy don't you worry none

'Cause mama's got the pill

Oh daddy don't you worry none

'Cause mama's got the pill

Debutante Ball

(Willie Tyson)

Get your gold lame slippers from the closet

The ones your mama bought for you today

Get that lavender chiffon thing you wanted

I can't believe the price I had to pay

Get dressed up like a queen now

And don't forget them fancy pearls

Meet me directly in the hall

I'm taking my fine bred Southern daughter girl

Out to the debutante ball

The Debutante Ball is my favorite function

It happens every year about this time

It coincides with our local cattle auction

The best breeding stock in the county all in a line

I run back and forth between the auction and the ball

Thinkin', "Sherwood, ain't you lucky, ain't you fine

The best cows on four legs and the prettiest gals on two

Ain't nobody else's but mine"

Get your gold lame halter from the tack room

The one you won all them ribbons in last spring

You been a winner in your time, old Red Satin

But since you had them three calves you ain't won a thing

Brush up your hide now and don't forget to trim your hooves

Leave behind you a clean stall

I'm gonna drop you off at the cattle auction

On my way to the Debutante Ball

This year's ball is quite a splendid occasion

I feel it in my bones, it's gonna be fine

I'm standing here in great anticipation

As the time nears for my little girl to walk the line

What's this I see, Clompin' up to me

Stompin' and sheddin' all over the hall?

My God, it's Red Satin, how, how, how, how could this have

happened?

It's my cow at the Debutante ball

Mammary Glands lyrics

chorus:

Mammary glands - wo wo! Mother nature's dairy delight

You can't make cream or butter cause it's just a human udder

And a natural mammalian sight.

Do you wanna pay to take a peek

At what drives men insane?

Well they're in anthro books galore and I'm

Just sure that you'll adore 'em,

Even cave women have the same two simple

(chorus)

The men decided that a certain shape

Stands out more than the rest

Well they made such a major issue

Women stuff their bras with tissue,

Thrust shoulders back to look their best, show off their

(chorus)

If you're more than 36, you are desirable

So don't be shy, they'll pay

For once you finally sold out, you may get a center foldout

They dig your dugs, you're on the way, with famous

(chorus)

It's a multimillion dollar enterprise

But no one know what it's about

If we'd think before we'd buy it

We'd bust the myth, we would defy it

And we might stand up and shout, "They're only"

(chorus)

words and music by Kristin Lems c MCMLXXXIII Kleine Ding Music (BMI)

Song of Perfect Propriety

Oh, I should like to ride the seas,

A roaring buccaneer;

A cutlass banging at my knees,

A dirk behind my ear.

And when my captives' chains would clank

I'd howl with glee and drink,

And then fling out the quivering plank

And watch the beggars sink.

I'd like to straddle gory decks,

And dig in laden sands,

And know the feel of throbbing necks

Between my knotted hands.

Oh, I should like to strut and curse

Among my blackguard crew....

But I am writing little verse,

As little ladies do.

Oh, I should like to dance and laugh

And pose and preen and sway,

And rip the hearts of men in half,

And toss the bits away.

I'd like to view the reeling years

Through unastonished eyes,

And dip my finger-tips in tears,

And give my smiles for sighs.

I'd stroll beyond the ancient bounds,

And tap at fastened gates,

And hear the prettiest of sound-

The clink of shattered fates.

My slaves I'd like to bind with thongs

That cut and burn and chill....

But I am writing little songs,

As little ladies will.

Dorothy Parker