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When, on the other hand, a Watt makes jokes such as his latest, he becomes an object of contempt, because it is clear from his timing, context and formulation that he feels no sympathy whatever with the viewpoint of his critics nor with their having an opposing viewpoint. In truth, the wisecrack about the coal-leasing commission could have amused only those who see affirmative action as a wrong idea that is not funny, rather than as a right idea that may also be funny. One cannot know without inspecting the Interior Secretary's interior if he personally abhors minority representation in government, but the suspicion runs high because Watt derided not only his commissioners, but also those members of the public sufficiently generous to find both humor and value in a sensitive issue. The laughter he elicited—and there was laughter—was the hollow laugh, what Samuel Beckett called the "mirthless" laugh (in the novel Watt, coincidentally), the laugh that itself gives a slap in the face.
Mark Twain's wife once tried to cure her husband of violent swearing by repeating verbatim a long stream of curses he had just let fly. Twain looked at his wife condescendingly: "Honey, you know the words, but you don't know the tune." In a sense, that is true of Watt, although it is unclear that if he knew the tune he would choose to play it. Comedy unveils the soul, but dimly. Still, if Watt resigns this time, or next time, assuming there will be one, it will not be because he had a weak sense of humor but a weak sense of people.
—By Roger Rosenblatt