I’ve never been a particularly great fan of the “That’s what she said!” jokes. You know, where someone says, accidentally, any kind of statement that could be, in a differently context, even remotely prurient — like, “Grab a hold of the other end.” — and someone else (always, or virtually always a guy) slyly says, “That’s what she said!”

And two or three of the other guys laugh as if Oscar Wilde had just cracked off a timeless witticism.

If sure variations of this have been around since cave days (or maybe we’re just still in cave days). And, by the way, I don’t mean to hold myself apart from so-called “low” humor. I maintain that, in any given context, a thing is funny or it’s not, and anything can qualify. And if someone does something, and someone else laughs, the thing is fine and funny even if I don’t think so. If he says it, and you laugh, it’s funny, period; and I’m happy for you both.

I’ve just never quite gotten the “That’s what she said” stuff.

For an example of as vulgar a thing as could be that, in the right moment, can drop me to the floor laughing, there is the other classic cave-category of humor: the fart joke.

Even using the word makes me a tiny bit awkward, because this is a public and mixed forum. I don’t think fart material is valid onstage in someone’s act, or in mixed company, but my dad, God bless him, used to percolate some astonishing evacualtions, and my mother and sister were always less than thrilled, but they made me drop to the floor laughing. Some sophisticate I am. I can still retell, seriously, some of his greater triumphs to my friends, who actually ask for some of those stories and love hearing them again. (I guess Robert Benchley’s oeuvre is safe.)

In fact, my father’s mother, who never really got along that splendidly with my mom, but only for the first forty-seven years of their marriage, actually walked in and gave my mother some advice on their wedding night. (Can you imagine a time when there was still such a thing as a wedding night?)

Her mother, my mother’s mom, gave her some advice that I still think is truly great. She sat her down in the wedding dress before the ceremony and said, “Don’t both be crazy at the same time. If he’s being crazy, hold your tongue, and let him finish being crazy. Then, when he’s done being crazy, you can be crazy.” I really think that’s brilliant.

Then, my other grandmother, my father’s mother came in, sat down briefly, looked at her and said, “Don’t let the sounds he makes scare you.” My mother said, “What?” And my father’s mother said, “He makes strange sounds. A lot of them. Don’t let them scare you. You’ll see.”

I guess that’s what happens when you live in smallish apartments in Brooklyn.

I have a variation of a fart joke (pardon me) I do in the right company, at the right time, and have for years. I did it yesterday, at work, onstage on a set. I was standing in the middle of the camera crew, waiting for the shot to be set, and a drill sounded from thirty or so feet away, very loud, raspy, almost in bursts, for five or six seconds, and after it ended, I shook my head, rubbed my stomach and said, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve had the fish.”

This makes me laugh; it’s not the first time.

But I also laughed the other day at a “That’s what she said” joke; a different kind of laugh.

My older boy (thirteen) was at a practice in the batting cage with his teammates from one of his travel teams, and they’re all thirteen, too. One of them stepped up with the practice bat and said, “This bat is rusty.” And one of the other kids said, “That’s what she said!”

And they all laughed, with their newly-dropped bariones, “Huh-huh. Huh-huh. Huh-huh.” And one of them, whose voice hadn’t completely dropped yet, said, “That’s a good one.” with a slight crack. And they all laughed again. “Huh-huh. Huh-huh. Huh-huh.”

So you see, my laugh wasn’t at the joke, really, just at the passage of time, another generation stepping up to the plate, so to speak. A very fine moment. I told my wife later, and we both smiled. Later on, we all still fit into the big bed, with the dog, to watch an old Star Trek. And Kirk pounded the arm of his captain’s chair and said, “Scotty, I need more power!”

And I whispered, “That’s what she said.” At least I didn’t say, “I’m sorry, I should’ve had the fish.”