In a display of Stockholm Syndrome, the White House Correspondents' Association invited Donald Trump to be the keynote speaker at their annual festival of self-appreciation. Because he is who he is, he did not take the opportunity to do the kind of gentle press ribbing that past presidents have engaged in, and he certainly declined to engage in the self-deprecating humor that charmed audiences in the old days. Instead, he delivered a string of puerile insults that would be beneath a fifth grader.

The tuxedo and ball gown-clad lads and ladies were forced to sit through meandering gibberish about the White House UFC fight, the weather forecast, the White House ballroom, why he hadn't attended the Correspondents' Association dinner in the past, and how "hot" America is now. Then he let loose with a string of gross insults:

"But I can exclusively reveal to you this evening that for the heaviest of the heavyweights, we will have Sloppy Chris Christie, one of the sloppiest human beings you'll ever meet. Fighting, I would say, I could mention the governor of Chicago (sic), but I'm going to mention instead Jerry Nadler. And they're fighting for a big piece of cheesecake, big fat piece of cheesecake."

But we had a contest for who had the lowest ratings and the lowest IQ on television. And that was actually Don Lemon, I think. When I said that he's the dumbest man on television, I said, 'When you say some things, you never make a comeback.'

"But this year, the association decided not to have a comedian. So they considered using Jimmy Kimmel. Jimmy Fallon. These guys, they're terrible. They're terrible. Stephen Colbert, these are people without talent. They get a lot. They have talent. You know who has talent? Their agent getting them the money they get. They have no talent. But they are not comedians. They're not funny people. They're angry people. They're sick people."

The president also noted that he "hated ... Adam 'Shifty' Schiff," calling him "a terrible person. He's a liar. And I called him Watermelon Head because he is the largest head I've ever seen with the smallest neck, pencil neck. How does that big, fat, ugly head stand on a little pencil neck?"

Why dwell on this? Because many people, even those who abhor Trump, say he's funny.

I confess I've never seen the evidence. People often laugh at transgression. It's not that they find it funny (though some may) but that laughter is often a reaction to surprise. I've noticed in meetings that when people use the f-bomb, others tend to smile, not because it's funny but because it's surprising in the circumstances (or at least it used to be before the f-word became the all-purpose placeholder in modern speech).So perhaps Trump's gross insults and vile jibes evoke a certain shock and therefore laughter? I don't know. Certainly, some of his fans enjoy the grossness and cruelty, but that ain't wit.

We have seen wit in politicians in the past, and one must wonder whether our age would even recognize the real thing.

Sen. Bob Dole, the Kansas Republican who was crippled fighting in Italy during World War II, had a deadpan delivery. After he received just 607 votes in the 1980 New Hampshire Republican presidential primary, he said, "The day after New Hampshire, I went home and slept like a baby. Every two hours I woke up and cried." He coined the much-repeated line "The most dangerous place to be in Washington is between Chuck Schumer and a TV camera."Others did self-deprecating humor with grace. George W. Bush performed an 11-minute routine alongside Steve Bridges, a hilarious Bush impersonator. Both poked fun at the president's malapropisms and poor pronunciation.

Several years later, Obama invited Keegan-Michael Key to be his "anger translator." While not quite as self-effacing as Bush's skit, it did poke fun at Obama's cerebral, detached, sometimes even robotic delivery.

Running against World War II hero Dwight Eisenhower cannot have been easy. But Democrat Adlai Stevenson brought a certain elan to the task. In a 1952 Fresno speech, he said, "I have been thinking that I would make a proposition to my Republican friends ... that if they will stop telling lies about the Democrats, we will stop telling the truth about them." On another occasion, when a supporter approached him and declared, "You are every thinking man's candidate," he replied, "Thank you madam, but I require a majority."

When Dick Tuck lost a California state senate primary, he called a press conference and deadpanned, "The people have spoken — the bastards." Rep. Mo Udall later borrowed that line and also quipped that "the only cure for presidential fever is embalming fluid."

New York Mayor Ed Koch offered a variation on Tuck's theme when he lost reelection in 1989: "The people have spoken ... and they must be punished."

GOP Sen. Alan Simpson, Wyoming's unfailing wag, once described the political parties this way: "We have two political parties in this country, the Stupid Party and the Evil Party. I belong to the Stupid Party." He also said, "Those who travel the high road of humility are not troubled by heavy traffic."

And the frequently droll Sen. John McCain, responding to a young man who asked whether he wasn't too old to run for president (the Arizona Republican was 63), quipped, "Thanks for the question you little jerk." That was tart but not cruel, because the point was that the question had hit a nerve.

I don't know about you, but I would give a lot for a politician of genuine wit right now.

Trump said the White House Correspondents' Association didn't hire a comedian this year. True, but they did invite a clown.

Mona Charen is policy editor of The Bulwark and host of the "Beg to Differ" podcast. Her new book, Hard Right: The GOP's Drift Toward Extremism, is available now.

Reprinted with permission from Creators