Safe, politically correct and ideologically sound humour is like a vodka martini, without the vodka
Sometimes I think we need an excuse to bring our blood to a boil. If it’s not the conversion of unsuspecting minorities to the folds of Islam on national television, it’s the amount of indiscriminate load shedding that plagues the upper and central parts of the Punjab. Incidents where guardians of the public good let loose their ‘good faith’ on certain ruffians who had the gall to let morsels pass their throats during the day also invite the ire of the liberal guardians of our sanity. In fact, even the new blue of the Olympic hockey field drew many frowns and scowls. Change.org now hosts a petition on the subject and the International Olympic Committee is considering reverting to the traditional green of Olympics past, in the face of mounting pressure from social media hacks.
I must admit that I had little or no inspiration to write a column this week and only did so on the insistence of my editor. To add to my woes, the power crisis chose this very day to make a house call and left the family and me without electricity for about nine hours. At the time of going to press, power had only returned to half the house i.e., the bathroom and the outhouse. The bedrooms and the airconditioners were still, inexplicably, without power. The UPS that powered our erstwhile fans sputtered to a dead halt sometime around iftaar. It seems that many such appliances will be meeting their makers tomorrow, unless some enterprising bijliwallah decides to keep his shop open until after iftaar, which, if you know your bijliwallah well enough, is a statistical impossibility.
Ramadan makes life difficult in a variety of ways. It is the month that you are forced to confront that demon within you rather than the ones God created to distract us. Unfortunately for us, our demons are far more advanced than anything John Milton could ever imagine. Beelzebub would shudder in his shoes and Mephistopheles would run for cover if he were introduced to some of our own, more domesticated devils. For instance, Mathira, the “kuchee kuchee” gal of late night TV, has come out with yet another “bold and baring” photo shoot. While I am a huge (literally) fan of the girl from Garden, I must confess that her timing is a little off. She now risks being slotted in with Veena Malik as a wannabe controversy queen and may stand to lose her mojo.
The Naked Tyrants, a bunch of losers from Lahore with a camera and a lot of toilet humour, have come out with a Ramadan-special edition video, dedicated to hormonal men everywhere. The aptly entitled ‘TotaQuest’ is not the latest edition of Final Fantasy, but is a gripping satire on the amount of frustration endemic in our society as a whole. But my friends from the feminist side of the divide would have you believe that these boys are doing nothing more than promoting misogyny and are, in fact, doing womankind a great disservice. Frankly, I think they’re goddamn hilarious.
But this is a troubling tendency. As of late, people have been becoming all too sensitive. Whether it is rape threats (real or imagined), personal attacks or litigation based on things that happen online, tolerance for others’ viewpoints is significantly decreasing. Where one was once ‘innocent until proven guilty’, now the innocent need to prove their credentials, lest they be branded heretics. Those that do not conform to the general (liberal) narrative are cast out of social discourse and venom is the language that is currently being used to fill in the pages of history (at least online).
Last week, Feisal Naqvi wrote a brilliant vindication of freedom of speech on the social media. I feel I can add nothing to the discourse, except to say “PEOPLE, CALM THE F*** DOWN!” It is depressing that means of communication that were once touted as the next best thing for building bridges are now becoming divisive tools in the hands of amateurs and trolls. The ability to laugh at oneself as well as others is fast becoming eroded from the public sphere and it looks like the bubble of social media may yet burst. I for one would be very sad to see that happen, because it would leave me no place to test whether a joke falls flat or is received with some belligerence. Any humorous attempt that is mocked and frowned upon can and should be considered usable material. Safe, politically correct and ideologically sound humor is like a vodka martini, without the vodka: it’s good for you, but then, where’s the fun in it?
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