Three Samurai warriors were finished with their sword practices for the day. The enjoyed a meal together and then talk turned toward skill with the sword. The talk continued until the instructor announced there would be a skills challenge the next day.
In the morning they warmed up and then moved through easy challenges like hitting a base ball at 100 miles per hour, and hitting smaller and smaller targets.
The instructor finally brings out three jars. Each one held one fly. The first contestant stepped up. The fly was released. The Samurai slice through the air and the fly came down in two pieces. The second Samurai steps forward. The fly is released. He swings his sword two times. And fly is found on the floor cut into 4 pieces. The third contestant comes forward. The fly is released. This Samurai carefully eyes the fly slowly, then stabs his sword at the fly. Everyone sees the fly is hit by the sword's tip. The fly hits the floor and flies away.
The judge comments that he did not kill the fly and so he would be eliminated.
The Samurai smiles and points to the small dots on the top of his sword. "My fly did manage to fly away. But my fly will never become a father".
Okay, here’s my attempt at a “Joke Poo” based on the Samurai Swords joke, titled “Accounting Audits”:
Accounting Audits
Three accountants had just wrapped up a grueling tax season. They relaxed in the breakroom, swapping stories about tricky clients. Their boss overheard and announced a surprise audit competition for the next day.
The next morning, they warmed up by auditing basic expense reports, then moved on to increasingly complex spreadsheets.
Finally, the boss presented three suspicious-looking boxes. Each box contained a single…receipt. The first accountant stepped forward. He analyzed the receipt for a moment, then slammed his calculator down. The receipt split into two pieces – he’d found a perfectly valid business expense that was being split into two fraudulent personal expenses. The second accountant stepped up. He examined his receipt, ran some figures, then scribbled all over it. The receipt was now in four pieces – he found three errors of fraud. The third accountant came forward. He eyed his receipt carefully, slowly, and then gently stamped it. Everyone watched as the receipt remained intact.
The boss commented that he didn’t invalidate the receipt, so he would be eliminated.
The accountant smiles and points to the faint impression on the receipt. “My receipt may still be there and usable. But the company will never claim that expense again.”
Alright, let’s dissect this joke about the samurai swordsman!
Joke Analysis:
- Setup: Three samurai, skills challenge, escalating difficulty (baseball, small targets, then flies).
- Expectation: The challenge is to cut the fly. The first two samurai fulfill this expectation, increasing the number of slices.
- Twist/Subversion: The third samurai doesn’t cut the fly; he incapacitates it in a… let’s say delicate way.
- Punchline: The samurai reveals his true skill: precise, non-lethal emasculation. The humor derives from the unexpected application of samurai skills to a decidedly non-heroic task. The focus shifts from lethal prowess to surgical precision, used in a rather crude way.
- Themes: Skill, precision, competition, unexpected applications of expertise, slightly vulgar humor.
Key Elements to Leverage:
- Samurai: Bushido code, swordsmanship, discipline, honor (or lack thereof in this case).
- Precision: Exactness of movement, control, mastery.
- Flies: Annoying insects, symbols of insignificance, vectors of disease.
- Emasculation (Implied): Loss of reproductive ability, challenge to masculinity (even in an insect).
Now, for a Comedic Enrichment!
Let’s go with a “Did You Know” format that spins off the original joke:
Did you know…
That in the feudal period of Japan, some lesser-known samurai schools (ryu) specialized not in battlefield combat, but in kugizuke – “fly pinning”? While records are scarce (mostly because the skill was used in rather… unorthodox ways), historical texts hint at techniques designed to incapacitate insects with the utmost precision. It’s said that the true masters could, with a single thrust, render a fly infertile without even ruffling its tiny, chitinous ego. While the practice never gained widespread acceptance, due to its questionable honor and the risk of attracting a lot of flies, it remains a testament to the samurai’s dedication to the art of the blade, even when applied to the most… intimate of targets. Some scholars suggest this was a way for bored samurai to maintain their focus during times of peace, and others believe it may have been a form of birth control for pesky pests. Either way, it’s a slice of history rarely discussed, for obvious reasons.