Somewhere I have two full pages of good (well, I thought so) jokes culled from earlier readings. They seem hopelessly lost now.

It’s hardly my intent to fill a page with jokes (most quite bad at that) but to call attention to this coming Sunday, July 24, which, I’m told, is National Tell an Old Joke Day. (Well … why not?)

Sometimes I swear I drive myself mad. Losing the jokes is hardly the only example. I can’t tell you how much time and effort went into the search for my good camera. I needed the pictures for columns. I could remember taking close-ups of the stickseed flower but had no idea where I put it after that. Who, do you wonder, would have thought to look in my desk drawer?

Jokes, I read, can handily be divided into four categories. The above is as close as I could find to “self-defeating humor.” This is where the speaker makes himself the brunt of potentially detrimental humor in an attempt to gain the approval of others.

Even more bitter is “aggressive humor” which uses a “joke” to put another down. I had no trouble finding plenty of these, usually aimed at attorneys.

“Why does New York have the most lawyers and New Jersey the most toxic waste dumps? New Jersey got first pick.” Or “Nurse: Doctor, the patient you just treated collapsed on the front stairs. What should I do? Doctor: Turn him around so it appears he’s just arriving.” Or maybe: “It was so cold last week I saw several attorneys with their hands in their own pockets.”

At the opposite end from self-defeating humor, we find “self-enhancing humor” which demonstrates a “good-matured attitude toward life, having the ability to laugh at oneself, your circumstances and the idiosyncrasies of life in a constructive, non-detrimental manner.”

I was down at a local eatery the other evening when I heard an angry customer yelling at his waiter. “Turn up the air conditioning; it’s too hot in here.” The waiter was polite and answered, “Whatever you say, sir.” A little later the yelling began again, “Turn that damned air conditioner down. I’m freezing.” “Whatever you say, sir.” The next time that waiter came to our table, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why don’t you just throw that loud-mouthed jerk out?” “It doesn’t bother me,” he shrugged. “We don’t even have an air-conditioner.”

I admit to having a bit of difficulty differentiating the self-enhancing from the next category, “affiliative humor” which is employed to enhance one’s relationships with others in a benevolent, positive manner.” This is frequently used simply as a way to amuse others.

Knock knock. Who’s there? General Lee. OK, I’ll bite. General Lee who? Generally I don’t like jokes but I’ll make an exception today.

How can you tell which end of a worm is the head? Tickle the middle and see which end laughs.

Fredonia sent their swimming and football teams to a tournament out of state. To save costs, they hired one double-decker bus. Sitting on the bottom level, the swimming team was having a great time listening to music and chatting happily until its captain realized he hadn’t heard a peep from upstairs in over an hour. He climbed the stairs to see what was going on and found the football team staring straight ahead, clutching their seats with white knuckles, frozen in fear. “What’s going on here?” he asked, “We’re having a great time downstairs.” “Y-y-yeah,” stammered one of the football players, “but you’ve got a driver!”

William Davis has his own thought: “The kind of humor I like is the thing that makes me laugh for five seconds and think for 10 minutes.”

This might do it: “What did the pirate say on his 80th birthday? ‘Aye, matey!'” (Think about it.) Or have you heard about the French cheese factory that exploded? There was nothing left but de Brie.”

My friend went down one evening to check his pond. As he neared, he saw a bunch of young ladies skinny-dipping, laughing happily without a care. Catching sight of my male friend, one of the girls hollered, “We’re not coming out until you leave.” “I’m not here to watch you girls,” he assured them. “I just came down to feed my alligators.”

Most of mine are forgotten before ten minutes could possibly pass. Only one is sticking at this moment. Having lost that copy as well, let me abbreviate. You might add your own juicy details.

A woman is asked to make a cake for a bake sale, forgets until the last minute and, frantically, grabs and frosts a large roll of toilet paper. Imaginatively decorated she’s quite proud of her effort. Dropping it off early for the sale, she figures she has time to run a few errands, return and buy her own cake back, nobody ever knowing what she’s done. Of course the cake is gone – having been purchased at once – by the time she gets back.

Next evening finds her at a fancy dinner party (or the weekly ladies bridge) when the hostess proudly brings out her cake. What is she going to do now? Nothing. For the first words out of the woman’s mouth are to the effect that she’s terribly proud of the work that went into HER cake.

I can picture it still.

Susan Crossett has lived outside Cassadaga for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. Her Reason for Being was published in 2008 with Love in Three Acts appearing last year. Copies are available at Papaya Arts on the Boardwalk in Dunkirk and the Cassadaga ShurFine. Information on all the Musings, the books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com.