Comedy is as old as the human race. I like to believe it began as a way to pass the time around roaring campfires, as our species first understood that we could socialize without bloody conflict. I imagine that it was very slapstick in this era, as the punchlines didn’t hit as hard with just grunts. Therefore, this period is where I believe a pinnacle of comedy was born: absurdity. For example, what’s funnier: Caveman A balancing a small stick on their head or Caveman B balancing a very BIG rock on their cranium? I bet the way the neanderthal public felt about this absurd act (Caveman B is infamous for such stunts) is similar to the way our brains react to modern Italian brain rot.
Whether we like to admit it or not, we are existing in a renaissance of absurdist comedy standards seen only in prehistory. With the power of artificial intelligence and the unrelenting vowels of the Italian language, mankind has rediscovered an age-old epiphany: comedy is funnier if it doesn’t make sense. The strangeness of Tralelero Tralala (a rather spiffy shark) is infectious. The words mean nothing beyond a wonderful satire at the utter stupidity of the Italian language. It’s simply pointless, much like steadying foliage and sediment upon one’s head (a niche reference to the aforementioned Caveman B). It exists with no purpose but to be meaningless. And yet, we consume this media like we couldn’t breathe without it. Similarly, I suppose, to the hominids of older times, who cheered for Caveman B’s strange balancing exhibitions.
It thus begs the question: is this a sign of regression for our species? Even the name Tung Tung Tung Sahur sounds more like a strange Neanderthal grunt than a string of any actual words with meaning. Our brains clearly think such primitive jokes are indeed quite humorous. Give us a funny looking animal and a funny word and BOOM, dopamine rushes to the brain, giving us a strange and undefinable high. But if Italian brain rot is the first warning of our regression as a species, what does this mean going forward?
While some concern themselves with societal regression, simply put, our society is in shambles. Our climate is warming faster than ever, countries leaning further and further into dictatorships, constant conflict, and Frank Ocean’s indefinite hiatus are all signs that maybe, just maybe, we should never have socialized in the first place. In my eyes, regression is actually a good thing—a holy war of sorts to return to the way it once was when Caveman B wowed the masses with what was such a stupendous and stupefying steadying of sediment. This primitive enjoyment sounds rather lovely to me. So, perchance, the utter dumbness of Italian Brainrot is more than just a dopamine rush; it’s a sign for a spiritual movement to remind us of what we once were and what we must aspire to be once more.
This article also appears in our June 2025 print edition.
