Leave com­edy to the pros

Daily Freeman (Kingston, NY) - - OPINION - Will Durst Rag­ing Mod­er­ate Will Durst is syn­di­cated by Ca­gle Car­toons.

Com­edy is a del­i­cate busi­ness and should be left to the trained pro­fes­sion­als. So the next time Don­ald Trump an­nounces his in­ten­tion to be pur­pose­fully amus­ing in a pub­lic set­ting, we need to re­spond prop­erly, and that proper re­sponse is: “God. No. Please. In the name of all that is holy, stop. Don’t do it. Think of the chil­dren.”

The day af­ter the fi­nal pres­i­den­tial de­bate, at the Al Smith Din­ner in New York, the two ma­jor-party can­di­dates were in­vited to tell some jokes, and to say the re­sults were un­der­whelm­ing is like in­fer­ring that gravel dusted with ura­nium flakes makes a non-nu­tri­tious break­fast ce­real.

Bill Clin­ton and Barack Obama were good at this sort of thing. It’s called a rou­tine for a rea­son. And when Ge­orge W. Bush and Mitt Rom­ney are held up as comedic ge­niuses, you know some­thing has gone hor­ri­bly awry.

Hil­lary Clin­ton couldn’t tell a joke if the life of a small Haitian child de­pended on it, but she gamely per­se­vered and got off a cou­ple of de­cent zingers, a few at her own ex­pense. But once again, Trump seemed in­tent on dis­rupt­ing an­other grand old tra­di­tion: the one that in­volves at­tach­ing punch lines to the end of jokes.

You’d think a clown would have bet­ter tim­ing — and make-up. Es­pe­cially Mr. Home­town Boy, whose big claim is be­ing able to read a room. This cam­paign ap­par­ently has blinded him so badly that he needs Lasik surgery.

Also, he failed to demon­strate the faintest no­tion of how to deal with a heck­ler. So per­haps a few clas­sic lines can be of­fered up should the oc­ca­sion arise again, which could hap­pen in an­other four years.

Oh yeah, well if you’re so smart, how come I’m pres­i­dent?

I’m sorry sir, are you a Demo­crat? I’ll talk slower.

Nice shirt. Some­where in Yonkers, there’s a Pinto with­out seat cov­ers.

Fur­ther proof why kids shouldn’t play foot­ball with­out hel­mets.

Don’t mess with me. I’ve got a mi­cro­phone, and I’ll just make up stuff you said.

Easy to see why he’s ex­cited. His colonoscopy re­port came back. Good news: They found his head.

Do I come to your work and knock the broom out of your hand?

Save your breath. You’ll need it to blow up your date.

I’d love to have a bat­tle of wits, but my daddy taught me never to fight an un­armed man.

That’s all right. I re­mem­ber my first glass of cheap cham­pagne too.

Usu­ally when peo­ple do­nate their brain to science, they wait un­til they’re dead.

Ex­cuse me sir, your vil­lage called, they want their id­iot back.

I’m sorry, but the mo­ron con­ven­tion met yes­ter­day. In France.

Isn’t it a shame when Hil­lary sup­port­ers marry?

Do you talk to your third wife with that mouth?

I un­der­stand a bus for your home­town is leav­ing soon. Why don’t you and El­iz­a­beth War­ren get un­der it?

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