Chapter 3: Page 16: Lines 44-45 (135-136)

 "You have heard it, then. Apologies," reaching to clasp Mason's arm, a gesture Mason retreats from in a Flinch as free of deliberation as a Sneeze.

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Lines 135-136 Vulgarized:
"So you've heard that joke. Sorry." Dixon reaches out to grasp Mason's arm in a friendly and reassuring manner. Mason, without a thought, recoils from Dixon's touch.

Subtext:
Yet another example of the differences between these two men, differences that could hamper communication. Whereas Dixon believes he made a friendly gesture, Mason seems to take it as a minor assault. And Mason's flinching away from an earnest gesture of companionship because he might be unable to easily handle the touch of another person, probably communicates to Dixon, no matter how wrongly, that Mason dislikes or mistrusts him already. Both seem to be trying to get along to the best of their own abilities but their personalities differ so much that each man can only interpret the other's words and action through the lens of their own perception of the world. The entire scene, so far, has been a wonderful example of how communicating with any other human being, no matter how eagerly both parties are to be friendly, can break down in myriad ways.

Chapter 3: Page 16: Line 43 (134)

 "Eeh!" Dixon's nose throbbing redly.

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Line 134 Vulgarized:
"Oh!" exclaimed Dixon, his face, especially his nose, having grown redder across the evening.

Subtext:
Dixon often gets drunk. He's got the bright red nose associated with one who drinks a lot. Although, technically, that's caused by rosacea. It's just that alcohol can often be one of the main triggers which stress the rosacea and cause inflammation. Believing somebody is an alcoholic due to their rhinophyma is a microaggression that I'd like to see an end to, being that I have rosacea! Alcoholics often assume I'm one of them. Clerks and baristas sometimes say dumb shit like, "I see you've got some sun!" No, asshole, I have a medical condition, not a sunburn. Get fucked because I'd rather not be reminded of it because you lack any other means of small talk other than commenting on a stranger's appearance. How would you like it if I went up to you and asked, "Oh, has the circus sideshow let out for the summer?"

Hmm, you probably wouldn't care, actually, because you'd just look at me with a confused expression. I admit, it wasn't the best line. But I was flustered due to my alcoholic nose having been brought up!

Chapter 3: Page 16: Lines 40-42 (131-133)

 "Are you crazy?" he whispers, "—People are staring. Sailors are staring."

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Lines 131-133 Vulgarized:
Mason's eyes bulging, furtively glancing about the pub, he hisses, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Can't you see we're surrounded by . . . Italians?!"

Subtext:
Mason believes sailors are mostly composed of Italians and that they're prone to violence when they think they're being mocked by some Northerner. Maybe Mason is just embarrassed by his new acquaintance's gregarious nature. And he probably respects sailors too much to want to bother them with loud, drunken talking in a public sphere. Or, pretty obviously, Mason is afraid of getting his ass kicked.

However one interprets this line, we can all probably agree that it provides a moment of clear demarcation between the two men's personalities. Dixon is loud, gregarious, and oblivious to the judgments of those around him. Mason is quiet, anxious, and quick to avoid conflict. Aren't they cute together?

Chapter 3: Page 16: Line 39 (130)

 Mason has been edging away.

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Line 130 Vulgarized:
Mason, wanting no part of Dixon's gregarious and insulting imitation of an Italian, pretends not to be with this maniac.

Subtext:
Pynchon could be making a sex joke here! Maybe the real vulgarized line is this: "Mason, enjoying terrible racists and anti-religious jokes to the point of ecstasy, has been fiddling with himself under the table, repeatedly bringing himself to the edge of orgasm and then backing off rapidly." Probably not though. The subtext is that Mason wants to make the ampersand between the two of them bigger than usual so that sailors who might want to beat Dixon's ass for this insult will not beat Mason's ass as well. "I know the title of this book makes us seem like an inseparable pair but, I assure you, I do not approve of this kind of sordid and stereotypical mocking of others!" Or maybe Mason does enjoy this kind of humor but not in this exact setting! That's understandable too. Remember when Edgelords understood where and when their Edgelord humor would be met with like-minded Edgelords and didn't insist that they should have the right to be as racist and misogynistic as possible in every single situation presented in life? Oh wait. Has that time ever existed? Not in my lifetime! Never mind.

Chapter 3: Pages 15-16: Lines 33-38 (124-129)

 Yet, feeling it his Duty to set them at Ease, he begins, "Well. There's this Jesuit, this Corsican, and this Chinaman, and they're all riding in a greeat Cooach, going up to Bath...? and the fourth Passenger is a very proper Englishwoman, who keeps giving them these scandaliz'd Glances...? Finally, able to bear it no longer, the Corsican, being the most hot-headed of the three, bursts out, and here I hope You will excuse my Corsican Accent, he says, "'Ey! Lady! Whatta Ye lookin' ah'?" And she says,— "

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Lines 124-129 Vulgarized:
Sensing things might be getting a little tense between them after Mason's innocent Pitmatic accent mockery followed by Dixon's less-than-innocent London accent mockery, Dixon tries to ease the tension with a bawdy joke. "A Jesuit, an Italian, and a Chinese guy are sharing a coach up to Bath. Sharing the coach with them is an English lady, prim and proper. The woman keeps glancing at the men in a seemingly scandalous way. The Italian, being hot-headed as you know all Italians are, pipes up and says, "Mama mia! Whatta ya lookin' at?! Gabagool!" She replies...".

Subtext:
If I knew the punchline to this joke, maybe I'd understand the subtext! Dixon doesn't get to finish the joke because, well, look at him making fun of another accent! He's trying to ease the tension caused by doing accents by doing another accent! I think maybe this guy is a rube! Hopefully, Pynchon being Pynchon, there will be a moment later in the novel where a Jesuit, Corsican, and Chinaman all wind up in the same small space with a proper Englishwoman and we get the punchline played out as actual plot.

I suppose this scene also helps the reader to close the distance between the late 1900s and the late 1700s by having Dixon tell a joke with a trope familiar to modern readers. "Why look at that!" exclaims the modern reader. "We're just like these old timey fellas! They tell jokes full of stereotypes and blatant racism too! Just like my favorite joke to tell at office parties about the Rabbi and the Priest and the Cannibal Witch Doctor! Ah ha ha ha! Nobody thinks poorly of me when I tell that humdinger! The life of the party, I am!"

Chapter 3: Page 15: Line 32 (123)

 So Dixon for the second time in two minutes finds himself laughing without the Motrix of honest Mirth,— this time, a Mr. Mason-how-you-do-go-on laugh, sidewise and forbearing, the laugh of a hired Foil.

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Line 123 Vulgarized:
Dixon fakes a laugh for the second time tonight. The first time, Dixon, confused by Mason's invitation to a drop at Tyburn, laughed uncomfortably. This laugh, more precisely executed: Dixon looking off to the side, maybe with a wave of one hand, his beer cradled close to his chest with the other, a languid, "Ah ha ha ha," with no power behind it, an obvious forgery though not intended to patronize.

Subtext:
People lie. They lie in many varied ways. In small ways not intended to harm, or misrepresent but to improve sociability, to keep peace. At the smallest scale, one of two people interacting over drinks, we find so many little falsehoods made for a variety of reasons. Now expand this out. To a household. To a large committee. To a community. To a village. To a nation. To the history of the world. The lies, the untruths, building, piling up, gathering steam, overwhelming anything that could possibly be called Truth. This is history. A Jenga tower formed half-full or more with blocks of lies and no way to identify them from the truth. Because hi(stories) pass through multiple tellers, move into the future, are finally written down long past the point where the people who lived them can tell them true. And, again, even if they could tell them true, they're still from one point of view, and that view can't know what the others were thinking, when they were lying, and why.

The point? History is what lies and truths combined have been accepted. Pynchon isn't writing history here (nor is Reverend Cherrycoke telling a true history for future generations; he's trying to stay warm and fed by engaging children); Pynchon is writing a novel with historical figures. And novels often tell actual true things because they aren't mired by the need for actual facts. They tell truths about human nature, about the need for empathy, the terror of brief existence, the responsibility of community, and the weight of desire.

Sometimes we're told lies and we react truthfully. Sometimes we're told truths and we lie in our reactions. And then there are, mathematically, some other ways to arrange those things as well!

Or maybe Dixon just fake laughed like a posh guy at a cocktail party in a black and white movie from the '50s and there wasn't meant to be any more to it. It's Pynchon! Who can tell?! He may have just wanted to reference more modern and specific media here! Like when Slothrop sees a newspaper spin around in the sky or turns into a comic book superhero.