Friday, January 27, 2012

Just For Kicks And Giggles


Now that I’ve added a couple more inches to the waist of my pants, I shall tell you of another way that we cope with tragedy in our lives. One of the greatest forms of emotion ever created. Something that we rely upon, use and abuse just so that we won’t be caught in a white padded room wearing a hug myself jacket. This is a tool that people such as Jerry Seinfeld, Chris Farley, and Daniel Tosh have excelled at, and also something that Paulie Shore, Carrot Top, and Kevin James have butchered.

Yes kids, that’s right, I’m talking about humor. And boy, can it be a riot sometimes.

Everyone has their own brand of comedy that they attempt to display in hopes that their fellow peers will approve of their sarcastic one-liners. Some people have the ability to be funny no matter where they are. And some people are just downright despicable at how they deliver a handful of knock-knock jokes. Everyone has a different level of humor. And some folks just plain suck at it.

Insert laughter here.

People react differently to comedy as well. Sometimes they just don’t see the underlying humor in a sarcastic remark. Sometimes their sensitive nerves get a little bit tweaked at the context of the joke. And sometimes they’re just flat out stupid and don’t understand the point of the funny comments that get tossed their direction. Everyone is different. And you can’t please everyone with what you think will put a smile on their face. Take for instance a few of my ten sisters. While speaking at my dad’s funeral, I was trying to make light of the entire situation in the remarks I was giving.

Swamp Thing: “I really loved my Dad…” Cue waterworks and sniffling from eyes and nose at this point. “Sorry, I’m not trying to cry and be a big boob or anything, we already know that there’s way too many big boobs in my family.”

Cue awkward audience silence starting to process the word boob from both a literal and figurative standpoint. ‘Is he referring to how everyone in his family cries, or how he’s one man surrounded by 10 sisters, a Mother, and a Dad who is loaded up on estrogen?’

Swamp Thing: “Wait… I mean… Oh shoot…”

Cue roaring laughter from audience all the way from the front pew to the last seats in the gymnasium chuckling at the fact that I could shed a glimmer of light at such a depressing occasion.

Cue pissed off looks from a couple of my sisters, offended at my reference to their weeping genitalia.

Insert more laughter here.

The point of this post is that everyone has their own way of coping with hard times that approach them. Those coping mechanisms could be chocolate, or five-mile runs on a treadmill, mine is just a vocabulary slip up with a subtle innuendo reference that put people in stitches at a cloudy memorial service.

What do you think?

1 comment:

  1. Oh how I loved that talk and that was one of two things I remembered from your funeral talk. I will remember that forever. I think that was the first time I laughed at a funeral and from then on, I was comforted with the thought that t was ok to laugh. Everything shouldn't be so sad all the time.
    -Rachel Bettis

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