Third Ass From The Right

TEXT BY ZEYAD KASIM ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOHNNY RYAN

Iraqis, after living for decades under an oppressive totalitarian regime in which one offhand remark could ensure a quick trip to the gallows, have mastered the art of the whispered political riff. In a way, secretly traded Saddam jokes provided the only means to retaliate against the motherfucker. The jokes proliferated so fast, it was rumored the Mukhabarat (Iraq’s fearsome intelligence service) had a special branch just to keep up with them.

Post-war jokes in Iraq continue in the same tradition, just substituting US and coalition soldiers for Saddam and his sons. Take this, for example:

An American soldier was harassing an Iraqi girl on the street. She turned to him and said, “Get lost… Or I’ll turn you into a newsflash.”

Another joke, poking fun at the insurgents of Fallujah in early 2004 and their anti-Shia bias, goes like this:

An American soldier who trained Iraqi security forces watches as they capture a militant in action. “By Hussein, let me go!” he pleads to the soldier and they release him. Confused, the American asks the Iraqis why they let the suspect go. They tell him that Hussein is a Shia Muslim saint and they can’t turn down a request made in his name. Days later, the American soldier is captured by Sunni insurgents in Fallujah and while they interrogate him, he shouts, “By Hussein, let me go!” They look at each other in surprise and their leader says, “He’s not just an American, but worse, he’s a Shia American. Finish him off!”

The Kurds of northern Iraq serve the same purpose that Polacks do to the rest of the world. Any Polish joke you know can be translated into a gut-busting Kurd joke, lickety split. Kurd jokes grew even more in popularity during the current war, especially after Kurdish leader Jalal Talibani was appointed Iraqi president:

Why does Jalal Talibani salute the air conditioner every time he gets up in the morning? Because it’s a GENERAL Electric.

While Kurdish jokes are considered extremely offensive by the country’s second largest ethnic group, they persist nevertheless. Comedy needs victims. Here are some of the most popular:

A Kurdish terrorist is captured, and US interrogators question him about his last operation. “The last one I had was for a hernia,” he says.

A Kurd goes to Zarqawi and requests to commit a suicide attack. Zarqawi equips him with an explosive belt and a cell phone and asks him to call when he finds a large enough crowd. The Kurd goes out to the street and finds five people near a store. He calls. “I found five people. Do I commit suicide now?” “No, no, you fool,” says Zarqawi from the other side of the line. “Find a larger crowd. Go to a market or something.” The Kurd walks up to a crowded market and calls again, “OK, I’m in the middle of 100 people. Do I commit suicide now?” Zarqawi: “Yes! What are you waiting for?” The Kurd puts the cell phone in his pocket, pulls out a knife, and stabs himself.

The movement of young Shia firebrand cleric Muqtada Al-Sadr has been the topic of countless vulgar jokes. This isn’t so much a mystery if you know that his family name, Sadr, in Arabic, means “breast” or “chest.”

George Bush and Bill Clinton are discussing how to solve the Iraqi situation. Clinton says, “Do it the same as I did with Monica:
Grab Al-Sadr.”


Another group that often finds itself the target of jokes is the powerful rural tribe of Dulaim, in western Iraq. They are sort of the Iraq equivalent of hillbillies: Naïve yet extremely generous landowners and farmers:

A Dulaimi was invited to a birthday party and had so much fun that when the party ended, he announced, “Hey everyone, tomorrow’s birthday party is on me.”

Two Dulaimis are playing chess. “I killed your horse,” one of them boasts. The other goes out and returns after a few minutes. “And I poisoned all your cows.”

During the 90s it was rumored that, in response to the spread of Dulaim jokes, their tribal leader visited Saddam Hussein and indignantly threw his headgear on the floor—an old tribal gesture that means the subject feels dishonored. Dulaim jokes were banned afterward. The Dulaim are also known now for their opposition to the US occupation of Iraq and their support for the insurgency, and so the jokes have changed accordingly.

A Dulaimi is relaxing with his wife at their home and they suddenly hear American jets bombarding their area. “Lie down, quick!” he yells at her. She angrily responds, “Do you think this is the right time for this?”

A Dulaim man, recently released from Abu Ghraib, returns home and asks his mother, “Did you see me on TV? I’m the third ass from the right.”

Every now and then a joke brings Kurds and Dulaim together:

A Kurd and a Dulaimi once played hide and seek in 1980. They’re still missing to this day.

Sectarianism has also found its way into Iraqi humor:

Two Iraqi sisters are gossiping with their mother. The first is complaining that her Sunni husband only has intercourse with her in the missionary position, and the second is complaining about her Shia husband who only has intercourse doggy-style. The mother sighs and says, “God have mercy on your father. He never discriminated against Sunni or Shia.”

Insurgents are not immune to a bit of ribbing either. One such chuckler goes like this:

Terrorists stopped a bus and started killing everyone inside. One of them reached a woman in the back and a man sitting next to her. He paused and asked her for her name. “Aisha,” she said. Terrorist: “I won’t kill you then. That’s my mother’s name.” He turned to the man and asked him for his name. “Ahmed,” the man responded, “but everyone calls me Aisha.”

A virgin wanted to be a suicide bomber after terrorists promised her she could get as many men as she wanted in paradise. She drives her car bomb into a crowded fruit market but the car doesn’t explode and she passes out. When she wakes up she finds herself in a pile of bananas and cucumbers. “Slow down!” she screams. “One at a time, please!”

There’s also a school of Iraqi jokes comparing us with Americans:

A reporter once asked an Iraqi, an American, and an Afghan about their opinion on electricity outages. The Iraqi asked back, “What’s an opinion?” The American asked, “What’s an outage?” And the Afghan asked, “What’s electricity?”

An Iraqi and an American went to hell. The Iraqi asked to call his family and he paid $1 for the phone call. The American did the same but he was charged $10. “Why do I have to pay more than the Iraqi?” he protested. They told him it was a local call to Baghdad from hell.

Iraq’s neighbors have always been kind of disgusted with the Iraqi tradition of really fucked-up, morbid humor. Iraqis explain that it’s the only way they can maintain their sanity in the hell they live in. I say let us have our riffs! This last one basically sums it up:

An Iraqi stumbles upon a magic lamp. He starts rubbing it eagerly and the genie comes out with a puff of smoke announcing, “Your wish is my command.” “I want you to build me a bridge from Iraq to Canada,” the Iraqi demands. “Oh, please,” the genie responds. “Can’t you ask for something simple? Who can build a bridge from Iraq to Canada? Make another wish.” The Iraqi thinks for a moment and says, “OK, then. I want the situation in Iraq to improve.” The genie says, “How did you want that bridge again? One-lane or two-lane?”