Humor Professor
Today, one of my dear HUMR 101: Intro to Humor students, who I will call “Jimmy,” came into my office, wound up his fist, and uppercutted me so hard I flew out of my shoes and slammed my head into the ceiling tile. Before I could open my mouth to inquire, “What the hell?!,” Jimmy called me “the fattest piece of shit” he had ever laid eyes upon, laughing so hard he broke down into tears. When I attempted to ask my young pupil what was going on, he simply said, “Relax, Prof — I’m punching up!” before walking out like nothing ever happened.
Later, walking through campus, I witnessed my poor, ignorant students saying similar things to one another! I heard each one cast such horrible words upon their fellow scholars like, “You’re annoying,” and, “Dude, you literally look like you crawled out of a swamp,” before punching them so far upwards that they left people-shaped holes when they fell back down. When I questioned just what on Earth they were doing, they simply responded, “Chill out, it’s satire!” I realized that I had not yet taught these children the true meaning of satire. It is high time I enlighten the masses.
Listen to me, uninformed youths of the Digital Age, and receive the wisdom of the jesters and jokesters who came before you. When writing satire, it is important to understand your place compared to whatever you are criticizing, as one should avoid punching down. An example of punching down would be me, a university professor, writing about how my student, Jacob, is a bastard child who does not deserve love. In this case, I, a person of higher authority, am making fun of a defenseless college student. This means that to “punch up,” one should only critique organizations that have more power than them, like the government. This also means that one should NOT physically assault the person or organization that they are critiquing — much to the dismay of the brutish youths of this institution.
Once I told those misguided students how to properly punch up, they were in awe. A light in their young minds lit up once more, the world of satire finally at their fingertips. However, amidst this edification, there was one student who still questioned my teaching, and asked, “How will people know I’m not just being an asshole if I don’t uppercut their jaw?” My guidance was simple: You have to believe your audience will understand the message behind your words. The student looked up at me with grateful tears. He pulled out an article titled “Local Dude Has a Stupid Ugly Face,” and then he threw it into the trash. “It all makes sense now. If I wanna punch up, I don’t have to throw down, dude.” I laughed merrily along with my pupils as everything slowly faded to black due to the untreated concussion I received hours before. As an educator, I’m proud to have taught these youths that when writing satire, “punching up” does NOT require a strong arm.
