Tuesday, September 25, 2012


I don't think of myself as funny.  I've been told I am funny. Sometimes referred to as wit, or a biting sarcasm when I really like you.  When I am at ease, or when I am completely nervous, these are my most funny occasions.  Or, when I am with a person that is genuinely funny, the kinda guy or gal that just eggs people like me on, when it comes to humor, I really am a smashing sidekick - and sidekicks can bask in the limelight, glittering for a moment without the pressure to be funny all the time.

When given a microphone, if it is at all appropriate to crack a joke, I will. Boy, doesn't it feel good to get laughed at while you're on stage? Goodness, when you feel that feeling you know why people spend their lives doing it.  Some sort of addiction, Conan has it, whatever it is. 

Tonight at a writer's group session at Cafe Moustache (where men have more hair than women - in facial hair alone...) I was just the rootin' tootin' life of the party.  I couldn't stop myself.  One small joke at the beginning, sitting there at an intimate table filled with various Apple products and overpriced notebooks, and I was on a roll.  Two or three jokes later, I realized I was the funny one at the table. This was probably all because I was covering up the fact that I didn't have something important to say, knowing my critiques were only mildly helpful to these devoted story-tellers, I got them to laugh at me instead. Ah, there we go, they like me! 

Truly funny people are great people. I think I believe them the most, especially when it comes to politics.  We all need a few jokesters in our life, keeping us in check, making those laugh-lines around our mouth bigger, serving us the truth on a not-so-silver platter. And if you're ever in the business for a sidekick stand-up, I hear I'm for hire.  


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