The boys in my family are playing with a whoopie cushion.

Businessman: You know, there is a real irony about the whoopie cushion.
Me: Oh?
B: Yeah, you blow it up, put it under someone's butt, then blow it up again. It's like you're constantly kissing someone's butt.
Me: No, it's like you are kissing someone's butt. I don't get near that thing.

Query: How is that ironic?