Medieval Jesters and modern clowns can do what others can't. Mock the mighty, poke fun at sacred cows, and give people a hug without facing an assault charge. it's called Clown's Privilege and should be treated as a gift. We allow the bizarre to touch us in so many ways -- Anon Guest
Three things to do. (1) Get up there, (2) Tell the unvarnished truth, and (3) Make it so funny that the Grand Dictator doesn't decide to execute you.
No pressure.
Haren ran through the usual guaranteed laughs. The Grand Dictator had an... earthy... sense of humour, so the ones that skated near the gutter and let the audience assume the filth had him in fits of teary-eyed mirth. Good. Haren diverted into the kind of rambling monologue that wavered from topic to topic, but still had the audience giggling.
Semi-serious, serious, potty joke seemed to be the good pattern.
"But, hey, I'm stoopid," was also a great disclaimer. "And speaking of stupid, you know what I don't get? Driving Force Economics. I tried doing research, you know. Look into the history of it, see how it worked in the past. I found out a lot of interesting names for it. Trickle down theory's a good one. An older one says that if you feed a horse enough oats, then some oats will pass through and feed the sparrows. That's the Pass Through theory. Interesting, isn't it? This idea of giving wealthy people more money is so old that it's been around since the Industrial Revolution." The audience was anticipating something funny. Time to end on that. "And I looked at all those historical examples, and to me? It kind'a looks like the horse enjoyed the oats and everyone else got buried in the horseshit."
They were laughing. Even the Grand Dictator was laughing.
"Seems to me, the wealthy people don't need more money. They already got loads of the stuff. You give a rich person money, they're gonna wipe their ass on it and throw it away." Haren put on a mock Hoity Accent. "Eau, thenk yew for the one thewsahnd dollah biyull." Mimed blowing their nose in it. Held out the invisible tissue at arms' length. "Jeeves, dew burn thet, there's a good fellew." Back to normal. "What are poor people gonna do with all that money? Waste it on food? Go to college? Better their lives? You can't have that. You can't have poor people bettering their lives... How would rich people know who to piss on?"
Haren let that sink in for a second, taking a sip from their water. "Oh wait. That's the trickle down theory! Y'all drink a lot of wine..." and then mimed taking a leak onto the front row. "...and then it trickles down!"
Applause. You could tell a great deal of truth with comedy. Even a truth that the Grand Dictator would not otherwise listen to.
"Thank you, you've been a wonderful audience. Especially you, sir!" A bow directly to the Dictator's box. "Try to save some of your golden shower for me."
He may not have wet himself with hysterics, but it was a close thing. If Haren was funny, they were safe. Always allowed to put a foot on the other side of the line that would get other mortals killed. Always afraid that that one foot would one day be put wrong.
And always hoping that the message would get through, one day.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Mathier]
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