were rated considerably funnier than those that were unexpected. The level of incongruity of each punch line was inversely related to the funniness of the joke. 5
Thereâs another dilemma with all these theories. While they all have their strengths, they also share a major malfunction: they short-circuitwhen it comes to explaining why some things are not funny. Accidentally killing your mother-in-law would be incongruous, assert superiority, and release pent-up aggressive tensions, but itâs hardly a gut-buster. 6
It might seem that thereâs no way to cover the wide world of comedy with a single, tidy explanation. But for someone like Pete, a guy who yearns for order, that wouldnât do. âPeople say humor is such a complex phenomenon, you canât possibly have one theory that explains it,â he told me. âBut no one talks that way about other emotional experiences. Most scientists agree on a simple set of principles that explain when most emotions arise.â Itâs generally accepted that anger occurs when something bad happens to you and you blame someone else for it, while guilt occurs when something bad happens to someone else and you blame yourself.
It has to be the same for humor, Pete figured. There has to be a simple explanation that the authorities have long overlooked. He thinks he found it by doing a Google search for âhumor theory.â
One of the first results led to âA Theory of Humor,â an article published in a 1998 issue of HUMOR: The International Journal of Humor Research , written by a man named Thomas Veatch. 7 Veatch posited what he called the âN+V Theory,â the idea that humor occurs when someone perceives a situation is a violation of a âsubjective moral principleâ (V) while simultaneously realizing that the situation is normal (N). To prove that his idea worked, Veatch, who had a PhD in linguistics from the University of Pennsylvania, laid out point after compelling point, meandering from computational linguistics to developmental psychology to predicate calculus. Itâs heady, compelling stuff, and to Pete, Veatchâs theory was closer to the truth than anything heâd come across. But it hadnât rocked the field of humor scholarship. Why had Veatch and his N+V Theory sunk into obscurity?
While Veatch had once taught linguistics at Stanford University, heâd since dropped off the academic radar. It took several weeks of online sleuthing and unreturned voice mails to get Veatch on the phone from his home in Seattle.
The N+V Theory started with a simple joke, Veatch told me:
Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?
Because it was dead.
âI first heard it in â85 or â86, and I laughed for like an hour,â said Veatch. That didnât make sense to him, so he thought long and hard about itâas he did about most things. Growing up, Veatch says, he was a loner who read every book in his grade-school library. It was the first inkling of a prodigious mind that, according to Veatch, would later dream up the MP3 player long before anyone had heard of MP3s and devise a phonetics chart that he believes can teach literacy to downtrodden people around the world.
Before those endeavors, he decided to explain the dead-monkey joke. So he sat down in his Stanford office one day in 1992 and came up with the N+V theory. The concept seemed to explain the joke. The lifeless monkey was a violation, but the situation was normal because dead monkeys will fall out of their trees. The premise seemed to work for every other kind of humor Veatch could think of, too. So in 1998, he published his theory in HUMOR and waited for a response. And waited. And waited. And waited.
It wouldnât be the last time Veatchâs plans wouldnât go as expected. After his stint at Stanford, he tried to make a go of it in the business world, but his attempt to build a speech-synthesizing e-mail reader fell through, as did