Two Cows
A joke about insanity, gaslighting, and the courage to know oneself.
Two cows are grazing side by side in a field of clover. The first turns to the other and asks, “Are you ever afraid you might get that ‘Mad Cow Disease’ that's been going around?”
The other looks up with a puzzled face.
“Why would a ladybug be worried about a cow disease?”
In the 1990s, an unprecedented bovine pandemic spread throughout cattle farms around the world. It terrified beef eaters, leading to the slaughter of millions of cows in potentially-infected herds. It was a scary, tragic, and also intensely captivating news story for much of the decade. It probably owed its persistence to the marketing department at some media outlet like CNN: “mad cow” disease was far more compelling and memorable than “bovine spongiform encephalopathy” would ever be. The idea of an insane cow tickled the funny bone.
This particular joke is funny because it surprises us with an unexpected flipsy-daisy: the answerer has already gone “mad.” It thinks it’s a ladybug. It’s supposed to be a cow.
The joke wins a big gold star from me because it opens up a beautiful pathway into deep and meaningful conversation. If you tell it to someone, and they “ooh” in response and start to walk through the philosophical doorway that you’ve just opened, you know you’ve got a real, actual, open-minded thinker on your hands. You’ve found someone else who’s awake in this reality. Make a note of their location, and invite them to teas.
Here’s the doorway:
The second cow is puzzled in their response. They do not lack confidence in their own self image. In this moment, by listening and honoring, we learn that they are, in fact, a ladybug.
I admit, this is a delicate orientation. Discerning healthy questioning from gaslighting is a gargantuan task. We see this quandary all over the place.
In an episode of Young Sheldon,1 Mary, the mother character, is moved to step inadvertently across the threshold when she fears that her subatomic-particle-obsessed ten-year-old son might be insane. She confronts him with the odd patterns she’s been noticing in his behavior. Sheldon fires right back that her own sanity, heretofore not yet in question, might rank somewhere below 100%. His evidence? Mary, a practicing Christian, talks to “an invisible man in the sky who grants wishes.”
Gaslighting, when somebody challenges your knowledge of your own reality with a dominating contradiction, forces you to question whether you might be wrong. True, it’s generally a good idea to be open to being wrong. Self-knowledge is hard won, though. It’s precious, and it deserves to be treated as such.
Slaying attackers on the battlefield is a framework that seldom has any lasting effect in converting them. It won’t help to insist that the first cow (being) acknowledge the shininess of the red shell or the cuteness of the squiggly antennae. That external validation is immaterial to what is real for the second being (ladybug).
Self knowledge requires healthy boundaries. A harmonious relationship, one in which all parties can show up as their full selves, requires a foundation of mutual respect and non judgment.
In the case of this joke, the first being is oblivious to the second’s self-interpretation. This may result in a squnched-face reaction or worse, a dismissal. “Um, nope, you’re a cow?”
Fortunately, the second knows themself, for themself, and is content to be themself and move on in the exploration of this world in that self. In such binary face-offs, the participant with the greatest conviction will usually emerge victorious.
“I’m telling you, I’m a ladybug. If you’re not prepared to listen to me, we don’t have to hang out. Please excuse me while I get back to my clover.” The other participant ambles off to think about it somewhere else.
In a more intolerant society, however, it doesn’t even go that smoothly most of the time. Haters can be unrelenting. Publicly asserting one’s own truth can be terrifying, especially for folks in disadvantaged communities.
For this reason, I’m a huge fan of Alok,2 the Instagram sensation who absolutely glows self realization. Alok reminds us constantly that the hatred facing trans, queer, nonbinary, and other counterculturally-expressive folx around the world is actually self-hatred on the part of the aggressor. Alok crafts a soft, warm, welcoming nest in which we can safely consider this.
What if we’re all ladybugs?
Personally, I see the world through an extremely nonbinary lens. I know it’s extreme because of how my friends and family sometimes react to my positions. I don’t believe in objective truth. I don’t believe in good and evil. I don’t think that any action is inherently right or wrong (though there are certainly many that I prefer over others).
I view things from a relativist perspective: what’s unacceptable in one context can be perfectly fine in another.
Many clinically-defined “disorders,” for example, are simply healthy neurodivergences in unsupportive conditions. In an effort to broaden experiential horizons for everyone, I conceived the neologism difforder3 earlier this year. I invite any thoughts on the definition in the comments.
With luck, it can aid you in your quest to walk through some philosophical doorways of your own.
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If you enjoyed this post, consider pre-ordering my new book, Jokes Thoroughly Explained. (Volume 1). Early release copies will ship in November, 2024. Paid subscribers of this Substack will each receive one copy automatically.
Young Sheldon, Season 3, Episode 1: “Quirky Eggheads and Texas Snow Globes”
Alok Vaid-Menon’s incredible Instagram account