I don't want to freak you out, but I think Seth Rogen's new comedy of dickish manners about the Apocalypse may be one of the Great American Stoner Epics. I'm talking Harold and Kumar level, OK? Maybe even Up in Smoke level. This is the real shit, man.

Hey guys*: Listen, I know you're mad at me. I mean, maybe not me specifically, but a figurative "me"—the type of woman who thinks she's funny, who thinks she understands comedy, who has opinions (and shares them) about what kinds of jokes comics "should" or "should not" tell.

Welcome to Dataspin, a weekly data visualization of whatever the fuck.

I've reached my tipping point with Jerry Seinfeld. It happened today, with this endless New York Times writeup that no one asked for, which includes the following caption:

Boston radio guys Toucher & Rich had the best bit this morning. There's fury around the Deadspin office that we didn't think of it first. They sent phone screener/factotum Adolfo Gonzalez to a comedy club, armed with a series of actual jokes from Rick Reilly's Twitter feed.

When I dropped the six-pack of Coopers Brewery Sparkling Ale on the counter at the liquor store, the clerk immediately began singing its praises, in what sounded like an Australian accent. This was pure happy coincidence, best I could tell.

I'm in awe of stand-up comics.

What do your jokes say about you? That's what Robert Lynch wants to know. He's pursuing his Ph.D. in evolutionary anthropology at Rutgers, and his studies focus on why humans laugh. (He's also a standup comedian.) Lynch is in the discussion below, ready to answer all your questions about the science of jokes.

E.B. White once likened analyzing humor to dissecting a frog, in that the frog dies and that most observers are grossed out by the process. But who will object if we dissect Dane Cook? Here's a statistical look at how two very different comedians elicit reactions from their audience.

For Comedy Week, we're running a handful of tributes in the vein of our Dead Wrestler of the Week series. Here, the Masked Man looks at the legacy of Mitch Hedberg, the surrealist who developed a cult following before his death in 2005—and an even bigger one after his death.