Today I tried to write jokes while crying. Is that funny? There might be something funny there.
I think the reason I can’t figure out if that’s a funny situation is because I am not funny. Except when I am funny. When I can make someone else laugh it comes as no surprise to me. Why should it? I say funny things. Still, I am not funny.
I was told about a year ago that my attempts at developing a comedy routine were mediocre because I was only making up jokes, not putting enough of myself and my experience into it. Ah, but my humor is purposefully crafted to distract from myself. Pay no attention to the person behind this joke. Don’t try to draw back the curtain because then you’ll see the truth: there’s nothing there.
That ends it, huh? I’ve aced another round of circular logic. I’ve outsmarted my ambition again. If everyone in the world were copies of me, we’d all be abusive bullies. Course we’d also all be discouraged victims. The bright side is that we’d laugh at each other jokes when those jokes were funny. But generally speaking, none of us would be.
Precious Junk 