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It always surprises me how we, you know ...people... human beings, will arbitrarily choose some group, a nationality, race, whatever to be the brunt of stupid jokes.
I of course mean jokes about the supposed stupidity of the chosen group rather than jokes that are themselves stupid—though actually having said that I take it back, since they usually fit into both categories. The really weird thing about them is that any of the plots, such as they are, of these jokes can be applied to any of the groups at random, only the names being changed to project on the innocent.
I remember, during my time in Upstate New York, that Polish jokes of this type were not uncommon, and here I must make confession to show that any of us can fall into Sin.
Having been asked to document an historical exhibition, and arriving early with my cameras, I wandered around as they were setting up. Passing a table that hadn't been started yet, but already had its big sign. I, even I, succumbed to heinousity and I took a picture of an empty space proudly labelled "Polish Contributions to the American Revolution". Chortle, chortle.
We English tell the same sort of joke only we (in spite of all that plumbing) eschew the Polish for the Irish. The Irish in their turn tell jokes about foolish Kerrymen and the men of Kerry too tell jokes about the twits in a little village in Kerry, the name of which escapes me at the moment.
And the villagers there tell jokes about...[pause]
An Englishman was visiting a little village in Kerry in Ireland, the name of which escapes me at the moment, and while he was there he chanced to visit the local pub where the entertainment for the evening was a ventriloquist who was quite good, considering, and the visitor was rather enjoying himself, at least he was until the ventriloquist used his dummy (in the ancient ventriloquent tradition) to start making disparaging jokes like "Ah! Did y' hare about the English SAS man who was told to blow up a suspect vehicle and burnt his mouth on the exhaust pipe?" After quite a bit of this sort of stuff the Englishman's feathers got rather ruffled and, throwing embarrassment to the wind he got up and actually complained. The ventriloquist, startled, started to apologise and explain but was cut short by "I am not talking to you, sir, but to that rude little chap on your knee."
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