Worst Things Ever: Greetings Card Joke Writers Should Be Destroyed

Trying to be funny on purpose is like masturbating in your friend's mother's bath in the hope that she walks in and asks if you need a hand with that, big boy. It's almost certainly going to end with you being humiliated but every once in a while, on a perfect night, the stars align and everyone is happy you made the decision. People who write jokes for birthday, Christmas, Halloween and every other meaningless life event themed card, are the exception. They haven't even been funny yet by accident.

Sure, they're not the only ones making a career out of sucking joy from the world. When you're eating a Penguin bar and you're foolish enough to read the joke on the wrapper, at least you can wash all that disappointment out of your mouth with industrial waste-flavoured 'chocolate'. But cards are worthless. It's just the message inside (if there is one) that counts, and in the end, you're just going to throw it away. It's like you're ritually hoarding and discarding the kind thoughts of your peers at every significant point on the calendar, every year. And if you don't, you're a complete weirdo for keeping all the cards you've ever received in your life. You can't win. But worst of all, you have to go through the same old cheap setup to a punchline you wouldn't hit your worst enemy with to get to that sweet note about how great your penis is. You could have just texted that to me, you know.

Quick question: what's worse? A racist or a rapist? Doesn't matter, card joke writers are both. I've never met one, which is largely the reason I'm not writing this from prison, but I'm pretty sure they think in stereotypes. Stereotype code. These no-talent hacks only have like eight jokes in their repertoire. And the repertoire goddamn includes the art design. At even the briefest glance, you can almost always guess the nature of the joke from the visual design and what kind of person is involved. Is it a woman? Is she every woman circa 1950? Then she's drunk.

QED, motherfucker.

Is it a man? Does the card look like it was rejected by the Dandy on the basis that the cartoonist drew it with his dong? Then he's a pervert.

Urgh.

Seriously, look at this bullshit. In this case a tiny prick could be a desperate grasp at reviving the allusion to a tiny cock! What innovation. I fucking hate these people. I know this sounds a bit early in the article to be saying this, but that's basically it when it comes to people-related jokes on cards. Writers think we men are all in our late forties, manically-obsessed with vaginas, borderline rapists and drunk. While women are all in their late twenties/early thirties, manically-obsessed with shoes and weight loss, frigid as all hell and really drunk. And as if there wasn't enough for you to worry about with Death's grim gaze and rigid schedule looming over you, but if you're old (and in card writer years, that's about forty, if you're male, thirty-five if female), this is the only kind of birthday card you're ever going to get again:

Haha. Old people are so gross. I'm sure this didn't break Nanny's heart or anything.

Double money shot, grandma! Deafness and incontinence. Literally the only two things old people are known for in the minds of greetings card writers. Ah. Sorry. I forgot technophobia. I hope the man who wrote this card gave it to his mother for her birthday. I also hope she punched him right in his colostomy bag.

If I had to pick the most consistently awful themed cards, it would be a knock-up between those for the aged, or involving animals. Long before I Can Haz Cheezburger was a thing, card writers were driving home the lesson that if you're looking for a way to spread misery and despair across the land, you can do a lot worse than putting a shit joke under a photo of a gorilla wearing a Stetson.

How do you fail so hard at humour? I came up with 'Objects in mirror appear more awesome than they are. Happy birthday!' in maybe, thirty seconds. And I'm only, like, one quarter retarded.

If I was in the DOD and we decided we wanted to weaponise paronomasia, the maker of this card would be who I rang first. Just imagine if you laughed at that. That you found train-wrecks like this funny. You'd be simultaneously the happiest and most punched person in the world. Maybe you're the one writing them all. And it's only you who enjoys them. Actually, I can empathise with that.

Oh for FUCK'S SAKE.