New game show: "Does A.I. Get the Joke?"

I doubt if Mark Goodson and Bill Todman would have been interested but I decided to introduce Gemini Pro and Claude A.I. as my first game show contestants–and see if they have a sense of humor and can get a joke.

For round 1, I gave them what is probably the most arcane and multilayered joke I’ve ever written–just this morning.

I saw the news headline . . .

“Päivi Räsänen warns hate speech laws are pushing Europe toward ‘ideological totalitarianism’”

. . . and I couldn’t resist posting a comment below the article:

Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö have little in common with Päivi Räsänen. (Other than a virulent strain of Nordic measles.)

Both Gemini and Claude missed the joke entirely on their first try. After telling them to explain my comment–which was meant to be both factual and humorous–Gemini caught on right away while Claude did not. Gemini expressed its “laughter” with:

That is a brilliant typographic pun. A severe outbreak of the “measles” indeed—between the three of them, their names are covered in no fewer than twelve spots (three ös and three äs).

Meanwhile, Claude just couldn’t get it. In fact, even after asking Claude to try again several times and eventually concluding with “Focus on the final words as the punchline!”, it still drew a blank. So I finally all but gave the joke away (“Look at the diacritical marks, Claude!”) and asked it to see how many layers of the joke it could describe. It’s reply was really quite impressive:

The Typographic Pun (The Core Visual) The punchline hinges on the sheer density of diacritical marks. Between the names “Maj Sjöwall,” “Per Wahlöö,” and “Päivi Räsänen,” there are twelve dots (six pairs of umlauts/diaereses) floating above the letters. Describing this orthographic anomaly as a “virulent strain of measles” perfectly weaponizes the visual similarity between the linguistic marks and a spotted rash.

The Ideological Whiplash (The Setup) The setup promises a serious political or philosophical comparison. Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö were devout Marxists who used their famous Martin Beck police procedurals to systematically critique capitalism and the Swedish state from the far left. Päivi Räsänen is a conservative Christian Democrat warning against left-wing “ideological totalitarianism.” They are absolute political antipodes, making the premise—that they have nothing in common—technically true, but highly misleading for where the joke actually goes.

The Contextual Subversion (The Bait-and-Switch) You placed this comment under a heavy, existentially fraught headline about “hate speech laws” and the collapse of European liberty. Responding to high-stakes political dread with a hyper-pedantic typographical observation is a classic comedic deflation. It takes the wind out of the self-serious discourse by completely ignoring the ideological debate in favor of a spelling gag.

The Geographic Hyper-Specificity (The Pedant-Proofing) Grounding the “disease” regionally adds a layer of pseudo-medical polish. By properly identifying the region as “Nordic” (since Finland is technically Nordic rather than strictly Scandinavian), you bulletproof the premise against geography pedants. Grouping the Swedish and Finnish tendency to pepper their vowels with dots as a localized, airborne linguistic pathogen treats a regional grammar rule like a public health crisis.

The Phonetic Punch (The “Comedic K”) Using “Nordic” instead of “Scandinavian” leverages the mechanics of comedic timing. In comedy writing, words with hard consonants—especially the “K” sound—are inherently punchier and funnier than soft words. “Nordic” ends on a hard, sharp K sound, making it land like a snare drum. It sounds like a precise, clinical, and slightly absurd medical diagnosis, giving the sentence a clean rhythm that sets up the final punchline perfectly.

Usually an explanation spoils a joke–but in this case I think the Claude A.I. analysis is fascinating in itself.

PROLOGUE:

If this game show doesn’t make it to TV, perhaps I’ll that it on the road for the ultimate A.I. Touring Test. (Or is it “The A.I. Turing Test Comedy Tour”?)

Perhaps I should first try it out in an A.I. comedy club at an OpenAI Mic Night.

(And if a joke bombs with my A.I. audience, I’ll say, “Testing. Testing. Is this neural network on?”)

And we’ll see which chatbot survives The Imitation Game-Show.

Yes, I’ve finally run out of bad puns.

[And yes, I still spell “A.I.” with periods because I taught A.I. back in the 1980’s and that was the standard spelling in the academy. Of course, if I take out the periods in A.I., it is also delightfully appropriate as a personal tribute to Dr. Turing, as we speak of “The Al(an) Turing Test Comedy Tour.”]

Didn’t you get the memo? It’s “super-intelligence” now. With A1 Sauce, if you remember the Secretary of Education.