Oh, how far the National Lampoon name has fallen. Once it was a satirical magazine that savagely skewered anything and everything in its warpath during its 1970s heyday.
The success of the magazine spawned stage and radio shows of the same name, which featured future comic superstars such as Bill Murray and John Belushi. The National Lampoon name was even attached to a number of popular and legitimately funny movies, including “Animal House” and the “Vacation” series.
Somewhere along the way, though, the National Lampoon name ceased being an emblem of comedic tradition and quality, instead devolving into a brand name crassly slapped onto any piece of worthless drivel in an attempt to rake in a few extra bucks.
Even last year’s comedy-in-name-only “Pledge This!” was christened with this once-respected moniker despite being a direct-to-video “movie” with the audacity to feature Paris Hilton in a starring role without a trace of irony.
Now the National Lampoon name has been brought back for yet another go-round, this time as part of the title of “Jokes, Jokes, Jokes,” a 287-page collection of, you guessed it, jokes.
“National Lampoon Jokes, Jokes, Jokes” is filled to the brim with countless jokes conveniently divided into chapters categorized by subject matter. Not surprisingly, these low-brow laugh-a-lots run the gamut from ever-topical hospital humor (“Doctor: Nurse, how is that little boy doing, the one who swallowed ten quarters? Nurse: No change yet.” Har-dee-har) to culturally sensitive observations (“Why do Sumo wrestlers shave their legs? So they won’t be mistaken for lesbians.” Ow, my sides) to the just-plain-gross (“What’s 40 feet long, and smells like piss? A conga line at an old folks home.” Ow, my head).
This collection is also labeled as the “Collegiate Edition,” which means that each chapter is labeled with supposedly humorous college course-style titles and descriptions such as “FSC 807: Advanced Food Toxicology” in a pathetic attempt to justify the book’s pointless subtitle.
“Jokes, Jokes, Jokes” even features little pieces of “joke analysis” from “Dr.” Mason Brown (who wrote for the popular dating series/funny caption showcase “Blind Date”), although his “analysis” is more like a combination of lame random observations and forced funniness than anything interesting.
At least the little drawing of Brown’s weathered-yet-awesomely-deadpan face (complete with checkerboard cap and pipe to make him look more “scholarly,” one might guess) featured at the top of each “joke analysis” page makes him seem like a guy you wouldn’t mind drinking a pint of Guinness with after playing a few rounds of golf, which alone makes these interludes somewhat amusing.
That’s not to say that “Jokes, Jokes, Jokes” is completely unfunny. At least a few of the jokes are worth a chuckle, and one or two may have you laughing out loud. It’s just that the vast majority of the jokes in this glossary of guffaws are tired and uninspired. Perhaps it’s inevitable that the humor of this (or any) joke book is not quite fresh, but it’s still disheartening, especially considering that the National Lampoon franchise once sought to provide an irreverent alternative to the type of predictable shtick featured in this book.
To put it simply, “National Lampoon Jokes, Jokes, Jokes: Collegiate Edition” is for a very specific audience and nobody else. If you absolutely love reading not-so-witty jokes with obvious punchlines, this may be your new bible. If you want to impress your friends with your newfound sense of humor, pick this up and hope your friends have low expectations (though the conspicuous bright red cover of the book may make things difficult if you want the book out of sight when busting out your gut-busters).
But if you’re looking for something more than jokes, why read a book with a title that features the word “jokes” no less than three times in a row?
