Awhiles back, the GTN gang put up a show at Mo Pitkins that was entirely about knock-knock jokes. Yeah, I know. Anyway, here’s the rough draft of the intro I wrote for Birch:
Whew! Hi I’m Dr. Knock Knock, the world’s foremost authority on the knock-knock joke. How did I become so knowledgable about this beautiful comedic artform? Well, after being stripped of my veteranarian license in 1992 , I fled the country in order to evade the deadly spies and assassins of the ASPCA. I found refuge with a small band of fellow disgraced veteranarians among the rugged peaks of the Himalayas. For twelve years I hunted cave rats, milked goats, and wove my own tunics from the coarse hair of the noble Yeti. Also, through a meditative process known as Inward Clenching for six to eight hours a day, I developed the ability to ejaculate a hologram of myself. This proved invaluable when the ASPCA’s assassins finally caught up with us in 2004. As they attacked my milky white doppleganger, I fled down the mountainside in a sled I had built from my own nail clippings and brazil nut husks. (pensively) Yes, there was one brazil nut tree atop our mountain retreat. No one knew how it came to put its roots down there. Perhaps a seed came to rest there in the feces of a Himalayan Condor migrating up from the rain forests of South America. That tree grew tall and strong, and I often practiced my Inward Clenching beneath it. After a heavy snow it loomed over us like a massive, ivory mushroom. And oh how the Yetis would dance around it during a full moon. (snaps out of it) But I digress. I rode my nail clipping and nut husk sled down the mountain to the nearest town where I killed a man for his moped, rode that to the nearest airport then killed another man and used his ticket to hop on a flight back to the states. On board that flight I found a book in the plane’s bathroom – the history of the knock knock joke. I took that book home with me, forgot about it for a year, and then last summer finally perused it. The rest, as they say, is history.