20031223   

it must be right if I say so

Michael considered fate at 14:28   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment

The hardest situations in life are devoid of any sense of humour and those are ultimately the defining moments in people's lives. The scars we wear on our psyche and our soul, those are the scars of the truly difficult times when not even a smile or a laugh can crack through the hard cold realism.

I find casual racism humourous. It's probably because I am 1) the antithesis of a racist and 2) find medicinal humour worthwhile.

I find chauvinistic jokes funny, though I respect women.

I find puns hilarious, even though I have nothing but respect for the english language.

There is something in almost all humour that is pain and suffering which makes it funny in the first place. There is a little sadness in every guffaw. It's like humour is the anti-matter to cruelty and suffering's matter.

Cruelty and suffering, we all know from previous experience, is the human condition.

So it makes perfect sense that there should be a balance, a counter-weight to all the heaviness around here. It makes sense that humour can make the most downtrodden homeless bum on the street with nary an ounce of vodka or a slice of pizza drop everything and laugh hysterically at the full moon. It makes sense that smiles can crack through the tears of a hungry child when it's dog, thin and rib-shown, chases it's own tail.

In humour we heal. It is the scartissue - that deep pink, raw and red, that stops the hurt and heals the pain and leaves a mark on us. Jokes are the platletts that clog our blood and stop our whole selves from flowing out of our own bodies onto the floor, into the mud, out into the stream river lake ocean to dissolve, disperse, dilute into nothing.

We'll do that soon enough - go to nothing. We go whence we came, we come from nothing and will return to nothing.

In the meantime we have our health in our humour.