Scientist Humor

I wrestle with the stereotypes that are frequently assigned to scientists, and one of these is that we are always serious and lack a sense of humor. I find humor everywhere in science if you know where to look.  The first cloned sheep cloned was cloned from a mammary cell, and the sheep was named Dolly—after Dolly Parton.  That’s funny.  Humor creeps into other names, too.  I am always amused by the developmental gene named sonic hedgehog named after a video game character.  That’s funny.

When I was working on the West Coast for a biotech company, Triton Biotechnology, there was an article in the San Francisco Chronicle stating that scientists lacked a sense of humor.  I’ve always prided myself on having a sense of humor, and I‘ve found that the creative scientists I like to associate with have a good sense of humor.  I’m not as sure about the “business types” in the biotech arena, but maybe some of them will write in to refute me on this.

On the day that I heard about this story, I was scheduled to present data at our Molecular Biology Group meeting--around 16 people or so—including my boss and his boss.  We heard about the article in an email from our business development group, although it’s still not clear to me why they cared.   I managed to get my hands on an internal memo that was color coded, in this case, the color of the business development group.  When it was my turn to present, I held up the memo and with a serious demeanor pretended to read it.  I told the group that in light of the recent Chronicle article, I had been asked to read this important internal memo before I presented my data:  “To All Scientists:  In order to rebut the Chronicle article published this morning and the statement that scientists lack a sense of humor, the Triton business development group was starting a joke hot line. “  Then I read the Business Development group’s office number. About half the scientists in the group thought this was hysterical, and the other half sat there with dumbfounded looks.

I have repeated this experiment using different humorous themes several times in the course of my career, and each time I meet with about the same result.  About half the scientists in the room react strongly with laughter, and the other half just look puzzled.

Because of the inherent ability of science to disrupt conventional thinking-- to challenge strongly held beliefs-- and the problem that we don’t communicate well with people about what science is or what we do, scientists make people uncomfortable.

So, non-scientists invent stereotypes that make us flawed, and in that way more human and less scary.  OK—this scientist is really smart but he/she is socially inept.    It has been my experience that many scientists are uncomfortable socially.  What is the definition of an extroverted scientist?  Answer:  An extroverted scientist talks to your shoes in a conversation.

It has been my experience, also, that while scientists are portrayed as milquetoasts, that this wimpy portrayal is not an accurate stereotype.  In my labs, scientists were a minor league baseball player, a weight lifter, a 6’2” outdoorsman, a kayaker, and a martial artist.  Hardly milquetoasts. 

On the other hand, I have attended dances, usually at the end of conferences, where the spectacle of hundreds of dancing scientists had all the beauty of a wildebeest herd fording a crocodile infested river.

(see scientists dancing below)

I hope you found this funny!  No?—you must be a scientist.