笑话的背后

　　周有光先生在《语文闲谈》中引有林汉达先生讲的一个笑话，说他有一次问一位扫盲学员，什么叫“遗蠕”？学员回答说是“一种雪花膏”。林先生讲这个笑话的用意是提倡语文大众化。他认为“遗蠕”之类的“文言”，不容易使“工农大众”了解、掌握，如果问“寡妇”，那扫盲学员是无论如何不会认作是一种“雪花膏”的。

　　语文大众化是应该的。否则，“遗濡”让人“涂脂抹粉”，总不是滋味。但也不是可以随处“化”去的，说某某已故要人、名人的夫人，为“XX人的寡妇”总觉不伦不类。

　　所以，与其大众化，不如化大众。

　　这位扫盲学员的“无知”还是情有可原的，毕竟是文盲，而且，她还知道文盲的苦，所以要去“扫盲”。你只要教她说“遗蠕”就是“寡妇”，她就再也不会拿她搽脸了。当然，这个笑话发生在上个世纪中叶。现在是雪花膏都改头换面，雅化洋化成这“柔”那“波”了。

　　这是时代的进步。但遗憾的是，仍然还有笑话，只不过，这笑话本身也颇为“雅致”，颇为“洋气”了。

　　这个笑话的内容是，有两位大款附庸风雅，参加一个冷餐会。与会者中间自然不乏真正的名流学者。席间，一位教授与其中的大款甲闲聊，话题不知怎地扯到莎士比亚身上，教授问大款甲：“先生是否对莎士比亚最有兴趣？”大款甲顿了顿，旋即正色道：“相比之下，还是威士忌合我口味。”这时，大家都暗自窃笑，想这身笔挺的西装包裹的原来是一副臭皮囊。大款乙也看出了苗头，悻悻然走开。在回来的小车上，大款乙教训大款甲说：“你真一点都不懂，莎士比亚是饮料，你怎么把它当洋酒了！”

　　这两位大款，尽管衣着光鲜，皮鞋程亮，红光满面，仍然是文盲，而且还是两个附庸风雅的文盲。

　　笑话的背后，是涩，是苦，是痛。

　　化大众容易，然而化大款困难。大款有条件知道莎士比亚，不仅是莎士比亚，还有条件了解海德格尔、维特根斯坦。但大款仍然只津津乐道于威士忌、X.O.或其他可以挥金如土的洋酒和饮料。因为他不需要知道莎士比亚、海德格尔、维特根斯坦，或者说，不知道他们反而可以挣更多的钱。

　　如果不是与教授们在冷餐会上同席，譬如说在“妹妹呀”的酒吧、“梦甜甜”的KTV包房。那么，大款们的“莎士比亚牌”洋酒或饮料，可以说是风雅到先锋了，妹妹们还真喜煞他们的潇洒和富有呢。

　　所以，大款甲乙，尽可以不必为冷餐会上遭窃笑而汗颜。因为冷餐会上教授们的身影并不多见。“莎士比亚牌”洋酒或饮料，自有畅销的地方。

　　真的，笑话的背后，可以让我们估量一个世纪的历程，扯出一个世纪的话题。如今，“遗婿牌雪花膏”退出了市场，但愿“莎士比亚牌”洋酒或饮料不再粉墨登场。

Behind the Joke

　　In “Chatting about Language”, Mr. Zhou Youguang quotes an anecdote by Mr. Lin Handa, who once asked a student from an adult literacy class what “yishuang” (a classical Chinese word for “widow”) meant. “A kind of vanishing cream,” replied the student. What Mr. Lin wanted to illustrate with this story was the importance of popularizing the Chinese language: among the ordinary people. He believed that it would be hard for workers and peasants to understand and master classical Chinese expressions like “yishuang”. If Lin had asked the student what “guafu” (a common Chinese expression for “widow”) meant, she would have never taken it for a kind of vanishing cream.

　　It is only right to popularize Chinese language among the public, otherwise you would feel upset to see a “widow” made up in powder and wig. However, achieving full literacy is not always possible in reality. For example, it sounds somewhat nondescript to address the wife of a certain deceased VIP or celebrity as Mr. So-and-so’s “guafu” (widow).

　　Therefore, it would be better to educate the general public rather than merely cater to their tastes and interests. The student’s ignorance is understandably forgivable for after all she was illiterate. She wanted to learn to read and write because of the difficulty posed by her illiteracy. So long as we tell her “yishuang” means exactly the same as “guafu”, she will no longer take it as something applied to the face. Of course this is a joke from the middle of the last century, but now the vanishing creams have all been disguised as shampoos of various kinds with highbrow foreign names.

　　This is a sign of progress of the times. But unfortunately there are still jokes of the same kind—jokes in themselves of more “elegance” with “exotic flavors”.

　　One joke goes like this: two rich guys go to a buffet reception where they expect to mingle with a literary and art crowd. There is of course no lack of real scholars and prominent academics present. At the party, a professor is chatting with moneybags A. They somehow find their discussion getting around to Shakespeare, and the professor asks him, “Don’t you find Shakespeare most interesting?” Pausing a little, he replies in a grave tone, “Well, comparatively speaking, whisky is more to my taste.” Hearing this, everyone laughs under their breath at this poseur, dressed up in an immaculate Western-style suit. Moneybags B notices that things are not going the right way, so he leaves in a huff. Driving the car on their way back home, he berates his friend for being so ignorant, “You’re really a dumbbell. Shakespeare is a soft drink, how could you possibly confuse it with imported liquor?”

　　The two rich men, though leather shoes polished, brightly dressed and well-fed, are still illiterates and illiterates pretending to be connoisseurs of literary works at that. The truth behind this joke is bittersweet and painful.

　　It is easy to change the general public but difficult to enlighten moneyed men. The latter have the means to learn who Shakespeare is, and they could even extend themselves to Heidegger and Wittgenstein. But they only enjoy talking about whisky, X.O. and throwing their money around like water on overpriced fancy liquors and drinks. They never feel a surge of enthusiasm to learn about Shakespeare, nor about Heidegger or Wittgenstein. In other words, they can make even more money if they are utterly in the dark about these names.

　　If they had not been in the company of professors at a dinner party, but in the “Girlie Bar” or a private room at the “Sweet Dreams” karaoke club, their “Shakespeare” brand whisky and drinks could have been at the cutting edge of elegance. The ladies might have taken delight in their glamour and extravagance.

　　Therefore, moneybags A and B need not feel ashamed about being laughed at by the professors at the buffet, for academics seldom frequent parties. After all, foreign liquors and drinks like “Shakespeare” might have their own ready market at a party.

　　Indeed, what is left behind the joke allows us to look back upon a century-long journey and consider many topics that have faced past generations. “Yishuang Vanishing Cream” disappeared long ago. If only “Shakespeare” wine and spirits were no longer to fumble around in real life.