Das Angst-Jöken!

I now introduce what I shall call the "Angst-Jöken," the jokeless joke of alienation and despair. Take this example:

"What is invisible and smells like carrots? The answer, locked in the next room when you are feverish with hunger and suffering vitamin A deficiency, is 'Carrots.'"

"A man walks into a bar. When nothing humorous happens, an awkward
disquiet descends on the room like a heavy fog. In a half-hearted
attempt to lighten the mood, he orders a banana daiquiri. When it
arrives, he merely stares at the crushed ice dripping off the rim of the
glass, forced to face his complete failure as a joke protagonist."


"A priest, a rabbi and a imam walk into a bar. Already tense, the priest orders dry white wine. The rabbi orders a beer. The imam orders a Coke. A stunning waitress in a miniskirt brings their drinks, to their collective, silent dismay. Desperate to get some sort of dialogue going, the Rabbi brings up the NFL. The imam says he likes the Packers. The priest, a Cowboys fan, thinks it's better to stay quiet. The rabbi doesn't really like sports. The bartender, an atheist, looks at the group with a kind of enraged pity."

As it happens, I'm quite sure this idea is dadaist. But desire for originality is a delusion of ego-relevance.