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I’m not an outgoing guy, but when other people start in with their favorite jokes at the tables, every now and then I will go along with the herd.

Generally, there are only three types of jokes that amuse me.

1. Jokes about taboo subjects that could never be aired on network TV, and that will get you killed in at least three countries.  I can honestly say that I have never in my life been offended by a joke;
2. Subtle jokes that generally don’t hit you until ten seconds after the punchline because they require some kind of non-linear thought;
3. Jokes that are intentionally stupid and unfunny (ie. tell the invisible man that I can’t see him right now);

Slapstick, pratfalls, and men dressed in women’s clothing do nothing for me.  Sorry Great Britain.

The only show on television (Hulu now) that even comes close to amusing me is “Family Guy”.

When jokes start flying at the table, I have a standard ice-breaker with which to gauge who I am dealing with.

I start by asking “What’s the best thing about having sex with twenty eight years olds?”

When people say “What?”, I reply “There are twenty of them.”

I’ve probably told this joke a hundred times, but it’s my standard “feeler” joke.  If people recoil in horror, I keep my mouth shut for the rest of the session, if they laugh, I go ahead and participate for a little bit longer.

I use this joke because it hits a taboo topic, but in a harmless way.  It’s offensive only to sensitive people.

If that one gets a laugh or two, I may go ahead and ask “What did Jesus say to the Mexican people?”

“What?”

“Don’t do anything until I get back.”

This one is always a little tougher.

It never ceases to amaze me, but people will laugh their ass off about a pedo joke, then freeze like a deer in the headlights when the topic is the slightest bit racial in nature.  More often than not they will look around to see if the guy with the darkest hair laughs first and they will act accordingly.  Some people just flat-out don’t get it.

“You only think it’s funny because you’ve never been a minority, Rex.”

I assure you that this is not the case. I was a minority for most of my life and I took an assload of verbal abuse.  White people don’t have a monopoly on these kind of jokes.  Not even close.  Nor does it matter.

Guilt-riddled, wannabe-progressives living on cul-de-sacs may pretend to recoil in horror, but this demographic would never have been caught in my old neighborhoods unless they were on a safari to write a thesis about how the other half lived.

We found stereotypes hilarious, and this brand of humor was part of the culture.  There were some conflicts if you told the wrong joke to the wrong crowd, but overall I think it diffused more tension than it caused.

Contrary to what you see on TV, most of the people I knew used humor to get through the day, and they didn’t sit around looking for ways to be offended.  In my opinion, political correctness is a cancer upon society that has only served to further divide people and turn them into idiots.

Anyway, while incest and racial jokes tend to get some scattered scorn in the casino, there is one class of jokes that get me into trouble more than any other.

These are religious jokes.

For the most part, people assume that I am an Atheist, but this is not entirely true.

Were my official beliefs to be neatly categorized, I would probably be considered an Apatheist.

At one point, I considered starting the Church of Apatheism, but I quickly lost interest.

I’m not 100% sure that God doesn’t exist, but if he does, I am 100% sure that he is an asshole. I don’t respect the guy. If an omnipotent being is content to let half of “his children” die horrible deaths of plague and starvation, I could not care less what he thinks about me personally.

If I was God, I’d reveal myself, cure AIDS, and make all women look like Phoebe Cates circa-1985.  I’m not going to let people fight wars and kill each other over my existence.

I would hold a meeting on the third Friday of every month, and tell all of you exactly what I wanted you to do in no uncertain terms.  There would be no ambiguity and there would be no need to visit clergy to interpret my wishes … you could just email me with your questions.

I know for a fact that I could do the job better than it is currently done, and I would like your support in the next divine election.

Vote Rex for God in 2012.

Anyway, last night was one of those nights in which my humor did not go over well.

While waiting for a show to start further down the Monorail line, I decided to hang out in the Sahara and play some ultra-cheap Blackjack.  I started out at $5, and worked my way down to the single dollar tables.

When I grabbed a spot in the cheap seats, I realized I was surrounded by some “good old boys” who were drinking beers and swapping jokes back and forth in rapid-fire succession.  Most of their jokes revolved around women and what they were good for (nothing but sex apparently), and I politely nodded along and laughed on cue.  Whether a joke is good or lame, I almost always give the courtesy chuckle because it’s just the polite thing to do and it provides positive feedback to the teller and makes them feel as if they entertained you in some way.

After listening for about ten minutes, and learning from my table-mates that God gave women three holes so that we could carry them around like a sixpack, I decided to go ahead and get my feet wet.

When I am just relaxing, I tend to speak in a stream-of-conscious kind of way, and in the heat of the moment I often tell jokes that just come to my head.  Sometimes I make them up on the spot and they are completely original, sometimes they are retells, and sometimes I think they are completely original because I’ve never heard them, but Google later proves otherwise.  This morning, I found that this joke fell into the last category.  There are 6 billion people in the world, and two of them are bound to think alike.

Anyway, I thought I had an appropriate crowd for my particular brand of humor, so I opened up my mouth and let the following fly:

“What should you do when Jesus finally comes?”

“Swallow”

The dealer made an audible “oh”, and the other players exchanged nervous glances.

Oops.

The table was Hiroshima and my joke was the atomic bomb.  The table was the Beatles and my joke was Yoko Ono.  The table was success and my joke was Randy Snow … you get the idea.

As the next few hands played out, everybody looked down at their cards, and not even the dealer would look directly at me.  Talk about awkward.  I was being shunned.

I thought about apologizing, but then I realized that I didn’t particularly care about these people.  Let’s say they accepted my apology and all of a sudden thought I was a swell guy … would I have suddenly been paid 100:1 on Blackjack or have been able to draw to 23 without busting?

My guess is that this would not have been the case.

Besides, when I said “swallow”, I meant their beers because I assume they won’t have stewardesses on the flight to heaven and Jesus is going to be too busy flapping his arms to serve beverages.  I can’t help it if people have filthy, disgusting minds.

Soon after the joke, I asked to be colored up, and everyone continued to keep their eyes averted as the dealer exchanged my chips.

Oh well, you never know where the line is without crossing it at least once.  I guess I found it.

Next time I’m going to stick to talking about my Porsche.

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