Monday, February 10, 2014

I answer the call

In Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, when the school of Hogwarts wants to reach young, oppressed Harry, it sends an ever increasing flood of mail. It pours in through the mail slots, it comes down the fireplace, and so on. So it has been around here as I am flooded with queries as to the identity of the two known "good" knock knock jokes that I mentioned in passing awhile ago. I cannot run, I cannot hide from this interest. I may take a leaky rowboat to some rough stone island in the middle of the sea, but I will still be tracked down. So, I will relent. I will share the first of the known, "good" knock knock jokes right here, on blog, today!

To help with the knock knock joke, which would invariably flatten and lose power written merely in text, I am employing the assistance of two friends of mine, Doris and Clive, both super intelligent aliens from a distant, far more advanced planet. Doris will be performing the "Call" portion of the knock knock joke, Clive the "Response."  Doris has a good deal of experience with our planet and some understanding of our culture and idioms. Clive, however, has a more sketchy experience with humans and our world, and so I ask your forbearance if, despite being instructed in knock knock joke etiquette, he struggles a bit.

Without further ado here is the first of the two known "Good" knock knock jokes:

Okay, so that didn't work ideally, but I think you get the idea, and if you try it out for yourself you will find it is very funny! Everyone will laugh and want to try it out for themselves because it is a "good" knock knock joke. Trust me.

Tomorrow I think it will go better with Doris and Clive and the second "good" knock knock joke, I mean, now that they've had some practice and such. Until then...


  1. Where can you find aliens that are not illegal?

  2. So where did Doris pick up this Clive character? He seems nice enough, though hardly her caliber.

    1. Alien anthropology, as you no doubt know, is so complex that even our greatest science fiction writers, like Ursula K. LeGuin, struggle through multiple novels to get right. So my short sketch here will seem a tad bizarre and unhelpful, but it's the best I can do. Clive, to Doris, would be like a pet cat, a minor deity, a fifth grade crush, an adored younger sibling, a table, a good book, a light, nutritious snack, and a suitcase all rolled into one.


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