April Fools’ Day is a time-honored, celebrated tradition of corny jokes, physical pranks and trying to subtly wrap cellophane over your roommate’s toilet bowl. April Fools’ Day is, like many American holidays, an informal celebration of some of our lamest attributes — like our fondness for played-out physical gags or gullibly clicking on obviously fake news stories.
Am I the only one who thinks it’s played out? Before you, our fine readers, work yourselves into a tizzy over my perceived slight against the institution of April Fools’ Day, let me reassure you that, yes, I do enjoy comedy. Not only did I attend Funny or Die’s Oddball Festival in Tampa this past summer, but I seem to be the only person in my friend group who made it to John Mulaney’s stand-up performance at UF last Friday.
Comedy — or let me clarify, good comedy — is about subverting expectations. As much as I loathe to be the one to explain a joke, there is a brief bit on YouTube where Louis C.K. talks about Ray Charles. Performed soon after the late soul pioneer’s passing, Louis asks the audience if it’s too soon to do a Ray Charles joke. The audience, thinking that Louis is going to crack a joke about Charles’ blindness, which was the man’s defining characteristic, says no. Louis acquiesces to their request, and rather than going the predictable route of harping on Charles’ disability, he quickly resorts to calling him a “dead asshole” and other unprintable obscenities. Once he’s done, Louis notes, “It might’ve been too soon.” It’s shocking, vulgar and surprising. It’s comedy.
April Fools’ Day, by its very existence, spits in the face of that. Everybody is expecting a gag; I dropped a piece of toilet paper over toilet bowls more than once Wednesday to make sure they were safe to use.
It would be one thing if everyone who fancies themselves a comedic genius on April Fools’ Day were just that: comedic geniuses. Believe me, I’d love to live in a world where one day of the year was filled with nothing but hilarious insights into the human condition and unrepentant vulgarity. Instead, we’re treated to Rickrolls and easily removable sticky notes on our cars.
Now, I’m not a completely miserable human being, and I understand the joy that April Fools’ does bring for many people. So next year, I would like to propose we do something truly unexpected and actually subversive: not celebrate April Fools’ Day at all.
No longer would the entire world be the prankee to a long drawn-out day filled with lame “jokes” and “hoaxes,” but rather the joke would be on the people who somehow think that anyone is actually going to believe that Simon Cowell is now going to adorn British banknotes.
Comedy is about surprises; marking a day on your calendar to get surprised is anything but. Life, day in and day out, is already a great big hilarious joke — let’s not belabor the point. April Fools’ Day gets a zero out of ten, would never do again.
Zach Schlein is a UF political science junior. His column appears on Fridays.
[A version of this story ran on page 7 on 4/3/2015 under the headline “April Fools’ Day is, while time-honored, antithetical to comedy”]
