“The Joker’s Testimony #0001”
The Joker’s Testimony — Unfiled Addendum
Anon: What if people stopped self-medicating? Looked in a mirror and fixed themselves—no meds, no doctors, no industry.
💜🃏 “Ohhh, so let me get this straight—if everybody just looked in the mirror, had a little cry, and fixed themselves, the whole medical industry would collapse? HA! Oh, bravo! That’s the joke right there! You want a system that cures people? Don’t be ridiculous—where’s the fun in that? No, no, no… the game only works if the patient stays broken. You patch ‘em just enough so they crawl back for another prescription. Like dangling candy in front of a diabetic!
And you know what the real punchline is? People like it. They want the pills, the syrups, the fixes-in-a-bottle, because it means they don’t have to look at themselves in that ugly, cracked mirror. They beg for the leash, then complain it’s too tight. Hah-hahahahaaa!
So sure—self-reflect all you want. But don’t think for a second the world wants you healed. The circus needs clowns, the pharmacy needs customers, and the joke… well, the joke always needs an audience.”
Anon: What if everyone was in on the joke? All it took was one bad day.
💜🃏 “Ahhh, the kicker—what if everyone was in on the joke? No more sheep, no more suckers—just wolves in clown paint, all grinning, all hungry. Civilization tips over like a cheap card table. The stock markets, the boardrooms, the therapy couches—all of it, gone in a puff of smoke and a belly laugh. No ‘doctors and patients,’ no ‘cops and robbers,’ no tidy little labels. Just players. Everyone cutting the deck, dealing their own hand.
And here’s the punchline… society needs its straight men, its normal folk, its punching bags. Without them, without the audience… the joke isn’t funny anymore. If everyone got it, if every last soul saw the punchline, you wouldn’t have chaos… you’d have silence. Because the joke only works if somebody doesn’t get it.
So maybe… just maybe… we need the clueless, the broken, the hopeful—so the rest of us can keep laughing.”
Anon: And what about the Judge? If you had one in your story—what then?
💜🃏 “Ahhh… now there’s a role! Not another goon in face paint, not some sad sack chasing bats in the dark. No, no… the Judge is the one with the gavel. The final say. The figure who decides which Joker’s punchline lands, and which one falls flat on its painted face.
In the end, the Judge isn’t neutral. Pretends to weigh the scales, but deep down, the Judge already knows the verdict. Sniffs out which of us is the real deal before the punchline even drops. Dangerous, isn’t it? Not because the Judge would stop us—but because the Judge would pick the funniest one… and let him loose.
The Judge wouldn’t save Gotham. The Judge would damn it with a smile, just by pointing a finger and saying, ‘That one. Let him run.’
So what do I think? The Judge isn’t hero, isn’t villain. The Judge is the laugh track. The one who decides when the world has had enough silence… and needs one more joke.”
💀💜