"But he TOLD me IT WAS HIS LEG! ! ! ! !"

Mark Twain is a pretty solid resource for funny. "Mark twain" was, history and the Internet tell us, a Mississippi River term: the second mark on the line that measured depth signified two fathoms—safe depth for the steamboat. So even his nom de plume was a play on words.

Among his many works of genius, one of my favorites is 1897's "How to Tell a Story." Here's an excerpt:

There are several kinds of stories, but only one difficult kind—the humorous. I will talk mainly about that one. The humorous story is American, the comic story is English, the witty story is French. The humorous story depends for its effect upon the manner of the telling; the comic story and the witty story upon the matter.

The humorous story may be spun out to great length, and may wander around as much as it pleases, and arrive nowhere in particular; but the comic and witty stories must be brief and end with a point. The humorous story bubbles gently along, the others burst.

The humorous story is strictly a work of art—high and delicate art—and only an artist can tell it; but no art is necessary in telling the comic and the witty story; anybody can do it. The art of telling a humorous story—understand, I mean by word of mouth, not print—was created in America, and has remained at home.

The humorous story is told gravely; the teller does his best to conceal the fact that he even dimly suspects that there is anything funny about it; but the teller of the comic story tells you beforehand that it is one of the funniest things he has ever heard, then tells it with eager delight, and is the first person to laugh when he gets through. And sometimes, if he has had good success, he is so glad and happy that he will repeat the "nub" of it and glance around from face to face, collecting applause, and then repeat it again. It is a pathetic thing to see.

...

But the teller of the comic story does not slur the nub; he shouts it at you—every time. And when he prints it, in England, France, Germany, and Italy, he italicizes it, puts some whooping exclamation-points after it, and sometimes explains it in a parenthesis. All of which is very depressing, and makes one want to renounce joking and lead a better life.

Let me set down an instance of the comic method, using an anecdote which has been popular all over the world for twelve or fifteen hundred years. The teller tells it in this way:

The Wounded Soldier

In the course of a certain battle a soldier whose leg had been shot off appealed to another soldier who was hurrying by to carry him to the rear, informing him at the same time of the loss which he had sustained; whereupon the generous son of Mars, shouldering the unfortunate, proceeded to carry out his desire. The bullets and cannon-balls were flying in all directions, and presently one of the latter took the wounded man's head off—without, however, his deliverer being aware of it. In no-long time he was hailed by an officer, who said:

"Where are you going with that carcass?"

"To the rear, sir—he's lost his leg!"

"His leg, forsooth?" responded the astonished officer; "you mean his head, you booby."

Whereupon the soldier dispossessed himself of his burden, and stood looking down upon it in great perplexity. At length he said:

"It is true, sir, just as you have said." Then after a pause he added, "But he TOLD me IT WAS HIS LEG! ! ! ! !"

* * * * *

Here the narrator bursts into explosion after explosion of thunderous horse-laughter, repeating that nub from time to time through his gaspings and shriekings and suffocatings.

As far as I'm concerned, all still true today. Even the sweeping generalizations about national humor have a basis in truth. To update his argument, I can think of several modern comparisons to Twain's point. For instance, "How I Met Your Mother" with its multi-episode, elaborately structured jokes versus "Two and a Half Men" and gags about how whoa, Charlie sure does like to have sex with the ladies. Or Ellen Degeneres stand-up versus post-1995 Robin Williams (particularly his appearances on talk shows, when it seems someone dropped a quarter in him and he got stuck). Or Conan O'Brien's monologues versus Jay Leno's.

There is much more where "How to Tell a Story" came from. I suggest you check it out here; it will only take you a couple minutes. Don't have time? Enjoy these gems:

"To string incongruities and absurdities together in a wandering and sometimes purposeless way, and seem innocently unaware that they are absurdities, is the basis of the American art, if my position is correct."

"...he would say eagerly, excitedly, 'I once knew a man in New Zealand who hadn't a tooth in his head'—here his animation would die out; a silent, reflective pause would follow, then he would say dreamily, and as if to himself, 'and yet that man could beat a drum better than any man I ever saw.'"

So What's So Funny?

Last night, I went to the first of a series of monthly writing workshops that 826 Seattle is holding for adults, How to Write Like I Do. Last night's was How to Be Funny, with John Moe (of NPR and McSweeney's) and Ryan Boudinot (also of McSweeney's, and author of books with titles like The Littlest Hitler).

Free coffee was enjoyed, space accoutremonts were sold, and some very interesting points were made:

• John Moe believes that "funny" is empathy, warmth and the act of exposing humanity in inhumane places. There is a relief and a joy in finding shared humanity, and relief + joy = funny. As he pointed out, the alternative to that is that everything is crude and horrible, like a bad MadTV sketch or that guy in your 11th grade biology class who was popular for making fun of people.

• John Moe also believes that "Richard Pryor is funny, and Dane Cook is obviously...not." For instance, as you may know, one time Richard Pryor was supercrazy1980high after freebasing cocaine, and he set himself on fire and ran down the street. He worked it into his act for his 1982 special, noting that "When you're on fire and running down the street, people will get out of your way." This is funny because, among other reasons, Pryor survived this psychotic episode, made sure to observe what was going on around him when it happened, then took the time to comment on it later, in the same way a lesser comic might make a joke about how buses don't always wait for the people running after them. A similar Dane Cook quote that John Moe found ("and this isn't verbatim, but I think it is pretty close") is "Blah blah blah MySpace blah blah blah I'm Dane Cook."

• Ryan Boudinot raised the question, "What is so funny about Monty Python's Ministry of Silly Walks?" It isn't the walking, although maybe a sketch could survive on that alone. It is John Cleese's face. Except for the legs, he looks like any English bureaucrat might on his way in to work. I think I'd also add that it is funny in two shifts, specifically: the first being the doubtful fact that Britain would need and sustain (and create plaques for) a Ministry of Silly Walks; and the second shift is, as Ryan pointed out, the deadpan execution. Monty Python works so well because they are entirely committed to the absurdity and refuse to wink at the audience.* This is why "Fawlty Towers" isn't as funny, at times, despite the similar materials and players - it can get too aware of the people watching it. Like a hipster on a fixed-gear bike.

• John Moe pointed out that it is funnier when something good happens to someone who doesn't expect it than when something bad happens to someone who deserves it. Think of the Soggy Bottom Boys' accidental concert at the grange in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" and their shock and delight that the attendees not only know them, but adore them.

• When asked about how he constructed his plots, Ryan waffled a bit, and finally settled on the fact that he didn't, really. Writing - and concluding a story - is like being Ed Harris in "Apollo 13." You send your folks out into their setting, and when a problem or obstacle presents itself, you and your engineers figure out everything that your characters have at their disposal, then solve the crisis with those tools, and only those tools. If you've come across a better Ed Harris metaphor, I'd love to hear it - because I think that one gets the gold.

* Not to say that winking negates funny. For instance, drag queens are funny, and there is no comedy that is winkier - in every sense, I suppose - than drag, right?