A while back, I was at a party. Think of it as the musician’s equivalent of the dreaded mandatory work event.



I hadn’t been there too long when I heard it. That sound that makes every woman in the general vicinity cringe: another woman doing that nervous, tittery laugh that is meant to alert those present that she is very uncomfortable by what is happening. Some People ignore it. A lot of Some People ignore it.



I headed in that direction to see what was the matter, and if she maybe needed someone to rescue her from an aggressive pursuance. There was a group of guys laughing uproariously, and this one nervous woman. As I got closer I realized the issue at hand: Guy #1 was telling a rape joke.



I sidled up to stand next to her and, when Guy #1 was done and the laughter had died down, I said “I know a good one.”



Everyone looked at me–the woman’s expression was kind of heartbreaking, to be honest–and I started in. I told this elaborate and gruesome story involving a man’s wife who did a violent and irreparable thing to his genitalia. I’d read a story like it in the paper once, and had been duly horrified.



As I’m going on, all the guys are turning kind of green around the edges, and there’s not a smile or laugh in sight. “Just wait, it gets good,” I keep saying as soon as it looks like one of them is going to stop me.



I get to the end of the “joke”–hint, there’s no punchline–and there’s Uncomfortable Glances all around. Guy #2 says “there’s nothing funny about having your dick cut off”, just as Guy #1 says “But–that’s not funny!”.



I give it two beats, look them in the eye, say “neither is rape” and in the ensuing stunned silence, walk away with the woman beside me.



Rape jokes aren’t funny. It’s time that’s understood by everyone.