This blog post is written in sadness and dedicated to my stepfather, Martin L. Stoneman, who is in hospice and not expected to live much longer. Like Marty, the post is quirky and focused on linguistics.

The first joke I ever heard, circa 1960, was not quite a joke: “Guess what?” “What?” “THAT’S what!!”

Years later the “joke” had evolved: “Guess what?” “What?” “CHICKEN BUTT!”

Young children find this funny, referring as it does to hindquarters. Why butt-related referrals are funny is easier for human beings to understand than it is to verbalize. My own answer is that it’s related to that aspect of humanity that impinges on what is considered private or scandalous or both–but I’m already wrong. I understand but hash up an explanation.

I have an addition to the Guess What/Chicken Butt canon. It is not funny but has the value of repurposing. (Sidebar: “repurposing” is a recent Flavor of the Month new usage…) If a kid ever Guess What/Chicken Butts me, my reply shall be “Wax wroth, Chicken Broth!”

This is sure to baffle the kid. It does a lot in four words that are much the same as the ones that he (or she) used. It rhymes; it uses language that though correct is becoming archaic, it anthropomorphizes a food product produced by poultry-slaughtering creatures, and such a product, given a soul, might well feel wroth indeed toward the slaughterers; it does more:

It extends the song of humanity.

Ever wonder how jokes invented and told by kids in a playground can zip across the country in a matter of weeks, and quickly become part of the tapestry of culture? As this is written, January 30, 2014, the latest fad/quirks of the language include phrases like “at the end of the day…” and “I know–right?” that are semantically tenuous yet serve the purpose of making the conversants a micro-community. It’s a dynamic language, in a dynamic Universe, and part of the joy of living, the song of humanity, is hearing a new form of speech and learning to use it. So my answer to the question of why kid-jokes propagate so quickly is that, common-speechwise, they are exciting and addictive, being not just more of the same.

Too bad Marty isn’t writing this. He spent a huge chunk of his life on linguistics, and a subchunk thereof on discussing linguistics with your humble blog-poster, his stepson. I hope I get the opportunity to read this to him. It will demonstrate the impact he’s had on the song of humanity.