Everything I know is wrong

My friend Conor and I have longstanding argument regarding which is funnier, a duck or a monkey.

I've always argued that a duck was funnier than a monkey, and here is my rationale:

Say 'a monkey walks into a bar'. Now, that is pretty damned funny, no? I can't deny that a monkey walking into a bar is funny. But here's what doesn't clinch the monkey for me--I can actually picture a monkey walking into a bar. Maybe it's because I've seen too many sitcoms or bad movies with a monkey in them, but for all I know that's actually happened before.

Now. Say 'a duck walks into a bar'. I instantly start giggling. Because let's face it, I've never seen a duck walk into a bar, or into any other sort of that establishment for that matter. It may never happen, and even if it did happen, that duck would have the blankest expression in its beady little eyes and a fat little waddle to his step. And now I'm cracking up (quacking up?) all over again.

So the duck wins it, right? Maybe not. I realized the other day that all this time I have ignored the cousin of the duck, the chicken. Where does the chicken fit into the humor gradient? Kind of throws a wrench into everything, doesn't it?

Shootfire. I got me some thinking to do.