Being funny is hard. My whole life, I’ve been many things, but never really funny." />
Being funny is hard. My whole life, I’ve been many things, but never really funny. I crack the occasional joke, as everyone does, and I’m not a total idiot, as most people are, but other than that, well, my strengths lie elsewhere.
I do know how to write, though. Got a degree and everything.
I started trying to be funny on my old email list, which was essentially correspondence directed at friends and family far away. My brother was representing the armed forces in Afghanistan at the time, so I was trying to keep everything light. I made observations, quoted conversations (which essentially became the Snippets) and bitched about sports and women (the two items that take up the bulk of my time). During the 2004 hurricane season, I wrote roughly seven hundred emails about the hurricane experience, which I then shortened into my first article for Points in Case (a website I had recently discovered while goofing off on the computer at my first real job). Because Court Sullivan was the first editor to ever add an expletive to my work, I decided to keep submitting stuff to his site. He kept posting it. Eventually, I asked if I could write a column. He said, “I guess so. But don’t steal anything.” And now I’m a humor writer.
Because of this, I was volunteered to be on the advisory committee for my friend Sharon’s Masters Degree thesis. For several months, I have missed almost every meeting due to the fact that, as Sharon has informed me, I am selfish and uncaring. Despite my anemic attendance record, I had been communicating with the rest of the group (psychologists, psychiatrists and one comedian) via email. The general theme of her thesis is how humor is used as a defense mechanism and how the manipulation of that mechanism can possibly lead to healthier intercommunicative relationships, or some such garbage (shrinks speak a different language than I do). At any rate, I finally made it to a meeting wherein the following question was asked, and it was such a quality question that I left the meeting a half hour early to hit up the local pub and think about it.
“What effect does humor have on your spirit?”
For some reason, when Dr. Whatever-his-name-is asked that question, I got a visual of a picture of Jesus Christ laughing (my mother has this picture in her office, and I always thought it was cool to see Jesus looking like he was really enjoying the fact that one of his disciples just ripped a nasty fart or something) and couldn’t get it out of my head.
Then, I went to the nearest bar and asked fourteen people what effect humor has on their spirits (this is how I figure stuff out. I call it, The Alcoholic Method). The general consensus was that usually, when something’s funny, it lifts the spirit. We then drank some spirits and the whole issue was forgotten. Later, I emailed the barroom answer to the thesis advisory group. Sharon responded to the group with the following email:
“I think Nathan is right. I don’t think anything really lifts the spirit like humor, and perhaps, by teaching the proper ways to use humor, we can then teach the lifting of the spirit and incorporate those teachings into everyday life.”
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Well, how the hell do you do that?”
Fortunately, Sharon is sure that she knows. Or rather, she’s sure that she knows that I know.
After all, I’m a humor writer.
Feel free to laugh anytime, now.
Seriously.
You don’t have to hold back.