This is just another part of the whole Blogging A to Z series where I pick a letter and just write.
“You’re not funny!”
How often have women said that over the years to their husbands and boyfriends? I know I’ve been on the receiving end many o’ times in my life. Yet the thing is: I am funny! Hilarious, actually.
“Oh c’mon! That was quite comical,” I respond. “Of course I’m funny. Admit it. Repeat after me: ‘Damn you’re funny.'”
Back in the days of my YAHOO! profile or (gulp) My Space, I often used to describe myself as an “observational humorist”. Some might equate that to being a “smart ass”. I’ve memorized just about everything from George Carlin to Jeff Dunham to every episode of Family Guy. Surprisingly, I sometimes even come up with my own material.
The bottom line is that more times that not I’ve got a comeback for everything. If you’ve done (or said) something that has left me speechless, kudos to you!
However, age – or better yet maturity – can be a fickle concept.
With age and maturity often come fatherhood and career. The area of my brain once responsible for a contextually appropriate F-bomb or spot-on sexual innuendo has slowly been sharing duties with a filter that sometimes controls me like the freakin’ FCC.
Additionally – and this is what pains me the most – my reaction time in which to drop a witty repartee has slowed over the years. Oh. We’ve all been there. Someone dangles the perfect set-up for us only to have our minds formulate the perfect comeback fifteen minutes later when the topic has long switched from a drunken sports fan falling down the stadium steps to Uncle John’s inoperable tumor.I’m immature for my age and believe me, that’s purposeful. Being immature is often more fun that being all prim and proper. Granted, I completely understand that there’s a time and place for everything yet at my age those times and places seem to be diminishing and that’s not right.
It’s not just a matter of knowing where the proverbial ‘line’ is between acting your real age versus that of when you in college, drunk, standing on a roof of a house with three of your friends singing the theme to Gilligan’s Island at the top of your lungs. It’s knowing when it’s ok to cross it.
As a general rule, I’m not a fan of censorship. I also think the politically-correct movement is hurting more than it’s helping. And as much I love social media, it too has squelched my comic ability by opening myself up to a wider range of people who simply cannot take a joke.
So what it comes down to picking my spots; knowing when it’s OK to let a good-humored one-liner fly. Sometimes I let ‘er rip and sometimes I keep it to myself.
Of course, the other day my wife was wearing a low-cut top and I just had to mention that it looked as if there was a midget sitting on her chest mooning me.
Now that was funny!
Up next: G.