Coverting for the Jokes: Natasha Leggero's Jewish Jokes Fall Flat
I make a lot of jokes about the Holocaust. It’s something I’ve done my entire life, a sort of evolutionary protective response to the existential sense of dread I felt as a child every time I passed the rough-hewn iron sculpture that served as the Holocaust Memorial at our local JCC. And I’ve gotten really good at it over the years.
A few months ago, I had an entire room at my office in stitches over an impromptu routine comparing the amenities of several second- and third-tier concentration camps (and believe me, it takes many years of refinement to get to a place where “Sachsenhausen” is an effective punch line, but now I’ve got it.) As the merriment continued, a non-Jewish colleague who is pretty damn funny herself, lamented: “I just can’t make those jokes. I can’t be funny about the Holocaust.”
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