I'm not exactly sure how familiar people are with this joke, if at all, but it goes something like this:
A man walks into a bar, of course, and he immediately notices, on the bar, a tiny man sitting at a size-appropriate piano (that is to say, also very small). The man asks the bartender where the little man and piano came from, and the bartender tells him something about a genie. This part isn't clear in my memory, but it's something about how there's a magic beer mug which, when rubbed, produces a genie, who then gives the rubber a wish (pretty standard for genies, other than living in a glass rather than a lamp). It's possible it's not a beer mug at all, but some other object one would find in a bar, like a jukebox or pool table or Scotch eggs. In any case, the man rubs whatever it is, and a genie appears, asking the man what his wish is. The man says, "I want a million bucks," or something to that effect, and the genie snaps his fingers or twitches his nose or blinks or whatever genies do that facilitates wish-granting. A million ducks appear, and before the man can confront him, the genie disappears. The bartender being the only person left in the bar, the man turns to him and says, "What gives? I wished for bucks, not ducks." The bartender replies, "Yeah? You think I wanted a twelve-inch pianist?"So there we have it. I have numerous problems with this joke, but I'm most offended by the punchline. It's not that I find the punchline itself offensive; rather, I'm offended because it comes at the expense of the genie. You see, I knew this genie. That's right, knew. He's dead now. During the time in which this joke occurred, he was experiencing temporary hearing loss related to an extremely serious ear infection, which was why he misheard both the bartender's and bar patron's requests.
In fact, the ear infection later spread to his skull and brain, which caused his death. Although he likely could have easily been treated with antibiotics, he and his family lacked health insurance, so he was unwilling to see a doctor. As he was dying, his wife took him to the emergency room, but it was too late. He died promptly and in great pain, both mental and physical (have you read The Death of Ivan Ilyich? It was like that), leaving behind not only a wife, but two children.
The genie's wife, having never worked before and lacking any secondary education, due to her unplanned pregnancy in high school, continues to struggle to provide for the family. She works three jobs, including as a waitress for the bartender from the joke. None of her jobs pay well, and the bartender in particular treats her poorly, unreasonably blaming her for her husband's hearing loss and thus for mishearing his wish (though, to be fair, surely we could all use bigger members). She experiences great difficulty providing for her children, who often go hungry, and spend most of their time alone, or on the streets, because their father has died and their mother is absent due to her heavy work schedule. Often all they eat in a day is beer, stolen from the bar by their mother on her sixteen-hour shift. Please donate clothing and household items through their church.
I'm a firm believer that jokes aren't funny unless everyone is laughing, so this one really doesn't work for me. It isn't fair to mock someone's disability, nor to continually remind their family of the unfortunate circumstances of their demise. Dirty pool, dirty joke book! Shame on you.
