I've been trying to figure out what makes a joke funny. Not the pie-in-the-face gag but the written or spoken jokes. I've noticed there seems to be at least six common elements. And just like cake
recipes, if you skip any of these comedic ingredients or get them in the wrong proportion, your potentially delicious banter becomes a very distasteful disaster.
First of all, you begin with a tasty target. Any person, place, thing, or even an abstract concept will do. Don't worry about freshness. Many successful comedians have built their careers on old jokes.
Next, add hostility -- a pinch of anger or barrel full of frustration depending on your love of your target. Of course, be careful! If you don't use the remaining four comedy essences, you risk getting a punch in the nose instead of a laugh. That's why boxers are rarely funny -- just don't say that to their face.
So, to avoid bodily harm to ourselves, not only should we avoid taunting boxers but we need to mix in a little realism and a fisherman's-tale size of exaggeration. Realism because comedy usually comes from pain. And there's nothing more painful than the truth. Unless it's an IRS audit. But we're talking about comedy here, not torture. Exaggeration is an essential part because it's the unlikely aspect of our target that tickles our audience. But that's something you've probably heard a billion times already.
Finally, we have to cook the emotions of our audience. We have to build their suspense. Our joke has to tease until our jokees are ready to explode. Then, when the timing is right, we prick their soufflé of anticipation with the pointy end of surprise. If done correctly, you shall experience the sweet laughter that rivals a hot, baked Alaska (dessert, not the state).
So there you have it: target, hostility, realism, exaggeration, emotions, and surprise. Warning, if you get a great reputation for cooking up all these ingredients into tasty treats, you might end up with a lot of dough in your pockets.
Fortunately, pet owners have not gone completely overboard with undying love for their animal companions. We have yet to see a chic Jeri curl spray for gerbils, holistic hemorrhoid treatments for halibuts (named Eric), or the best acne treatments for hairless cats. But don't be surprised when you do find these items in your local pet shop. 
On one side of the political spectrum, you have a African American and a Catholic. On the other side, you have an advanced AARP member and a Alaskan American woman. It's a battle of the minority groups, folks! So what is a white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant man going to do? I don't know. Not only am I not a W.A.S.P., none of this really applies to me. No matter how hard both parties make this election about looks, family history, genetic tans, and religious beliefs, this process is about deeds -- what these people have and have not done as politicians. That's what really matters and affects me ... and you!
There they are: shiny, perfect $3000 pearls from exotic Tahiti. Yeah, I would love to give this exquisite jewelry to my girlfriend. But she would probably pass out from the shock of receiving such a gift. We can't have that happen. Above all things, I need to watch out for her well being! She has enough trauma in her life. And who am I to cast Tahitian pearls before swoon? So, I must spare her this risk of fainting and forgo buying such breath-taking pearls.
What is the life of a patent, about 20 years? You would think that when Walter Schlage patented a simple key and lock mechanism almost a century ago, the patent would run out and everyone could freely use his invention. But here's how you get around that: take a design, make a minor change to it, you get a new patent. If your business can continue to hire intelligent workers for years to come, you can go several generations and corner the market on your unique idea.
