I was once invited to the taping of a TV show and before the cameras started to roll a young man came on stage and asked everyone in the audience to practice applauding. At first, the applause was weak, but repeated efforts turned it into a thunderous ovation. It was as if everybody had just heard an important official's speech.

When I caught the show on air, our loud-applause practise session was added when the MC appeared.

I now understand that this off-screen cheerleader is a new species called the "Applause Leader." The need for his talent is understandable.

The Spring Festival Eve gala, known for being splashy, shallow and phoney, probably gives more emphasis to the applause than to hosting.

This all leads me to question whether our joy is really heartfelt, and whether we Chinese really have a sense of humor.

When Ma Ji, the great stand-up comedian in the late 1970s and early 1980s, died a few weeks ago, I interviewed one of his colleagues. He said when Ma got on stage whatever he said made people laugh.

I studied the recordings of his gags. The audience was always grinning even when Ma was not delivering the best punch lines. Maybe he looked funny but gradually I realized that people of that era were always ready to burst into laughter because they had it inside them. It had little to do with how funny his routines were.

Before the "cultural revolution" (1966-76), I believe Chinese people harbored gratitude. People were happy, especially those in Beijing. After the downfall of the Gang of Four, they regained their enthusiasm because they could again live a normal life. Stand-up comedy (or cross-talk in some parlance) tended to flourish after political turmoil ended. During stretches of peace and prosperity, it was not as effective. This has nothing to do with the quality of the material or the delivery.

I have concluded that we Chinese do not have much of a sense of humor.

If you're endowed with humor, you'll know what joy is; however, a joyous person may not know what humor is.

I've studied the speech patterns of Chinese people of all walks of life. They are invariably dry and devoid of humor.

Former Premier Zhu Rongji has it, but he is one of a kind. Some folk artists have it, but most folk music dwells on misery and folk tales strong on peculiarity.

Everyone watches the televised gala for Zhao Benshan, the famed folk comedian. If he is absent, there would be twice as much mud slinging at the show.

Stephen Chow does not convey humor, but just dramatic exaggeration. He is popular because people do not know real humor.

Hence we have the word gao xiao, which implies the laughs are not from within, but caused by outside stimulation.

The Steamed Bun is the only piece in 2006 that could sustain me. The others were nonsensical but still popular, proving we have nothing better to do.

What we Chinese people do have is wisdom, but this wisdom is not generously reflected in humor.

We don't have many old books of jokes, but we have tons of books on duplicity, hypocrisy and in-fighting.

We don't have a strong demand for humor, we just want our karaoke.

(China Daily 01/17/2007 page20)