The Funniest Joke in the World

 Attention: Health Warning to Those Able to Read and Understand The German Language:

Although it is commonly accepted that jokes can be funny, those familiar with Monty Python’s work will be aware of the potential lethality of a really good joke. After all, in WWII the Germans were defeated by means of (a German translation of) the Funniest Joke in the World, “over sixty thousand times as powerful as Britain’s great pre-war joke.”

It appears that humour has evolved over the past 80 years, and the Funniest Joke in the World is no longer the funniest. Nevertheless, we disclaim any responsibility for health problems caused by reading the following joke. We also strongly advise against copying and pasting the joke into a machine translator. Reader be warned! Here it goes:

“Wenn ist das Nunstrück git und Slotermeyer? Ja! ... Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput!”

No? Nothing, germanophiles?

Well, I have news. There is a brand new contender for Funniest Joke in the World.

It was conceived by Luc Tuymans (yes, him again, the old joker…) and AI-expert Luc Steels and his Studio Stelluti. Personally, I suspect Jan Braet, art ‘critic’ for Knack Magazine, to be in cahoots.

When I read about it this morning, I burst out laughing, could not stop, laughed so violently that, after an hour or two, I dislocated my mandible and cracked three ribs. My eyes are still bloodshot. My ears have not stopped ringing.  May this serve as a stern warning to anyone who has decided to continue reading!

Secrets

In 1990, Luc Tuymans cobbled together another of his ‘paintings’, entitled “Secrets”. It represents the head of a man with eyes closed. If you hadn’t recognized the face, no worries, someone (Jan Braet) will soon come along and divulge – Big Reveal – that it is actually the portrait of Albert Speer, the naughty, naughty architect of the Third Reich.

In this image, Tuymans has once again combined a flawless sense of indifference with his habitual flair for vacuity. It is hardly a secret that Tuymans copies photographs in fifty shades of grey paint. Here too, this results in another ultimately redundant ‘image’ (Form), that once again is anodyne to such a degree, that a back-story (Content) is indispensable. This back-story is supposed to acquire gravity from its sinister connotations, i.e.: mistake ye not, this is not the head of a random man, but that of Hitler’s architect. Ooh la la!

The intelligent reader will see in this process, not merely a bitter divorce of Form and Content (in which superimposed Content always wins the custody battle), but a messy surgical separation of conjoined twins. Worse, in fact, it is the butchery performed by a delusional surgeon seeing conjoined twins in a single person, and attempting to separate his hallucination. Or, it would be exactly that, if Tuymans’ products were paintings in stead of images.

…

The points of ellipsis above indicate a pause for you, the reader, to recover a bit from laughing. However, the hazardously funny part is still to come!

The Joke’s introduction is courtesy Jan Braet, who believes that “in times when experiences, emotions and human interactions are often only shared via virtual representations, the value of the distinction between a real painting and its depiction in pixels, seem to decrease gradually.” What? The value of the distinction? Seems to? Make up your mind, Braet!

However, at the same time “the possibilities of subjecting the digital painting to high-tech research” increase, research that is “aimed at a deconstruction of the original work of art.” Deconstruct away, iconophiles!

AI-expert Luc Steels “stripped ‘Secrets’ of its secrets, subjected it to a program of artificial intelligence that converts most of the background information [sic, i.e. back-story] into algorithms and a web of all possible associations that,” – wait for it… - “that multiply the significance of the work as an esthetic and historic document.” He presto! The back-story ‘multiplied’ and stitched back onto the original image. Masterful! Operation successful, patient dead.

As yet, this is but a testcase. Future AI-models should result in “a better understanding of contemporary paintings.” I know, this is dangerously comical… Just one more:

“A sound AI-program could in future make sure that the ambiguous dichotomy between the visual and conceptual component in Tuymans’ oeuvre [you see, I’m not making this up!], will be accurately described.”

We should be grateful to the Tuymanses and Braets and Steelses of this world, for bringing humour in these dark times. I would however like to request them to slightly dial down their jokes, in the interest of public health.