Funny Bones

When I turned 21, I didn’t head for booze; I went straight to the Comedy Store. The problem was, it was Open Mike Night. At least destiny has a sense of humor, even if the guys onstage didn’t.

Here’s the thing: They weren’t funny. They should have been. As I found out, the same guys showed up every week and told variations on the same material. I know because I started showing up every week too, because I could. It was free, and it was interesting, and it didn’t take long before I had the comedic equivalent reaction of “My 5 year-old can paint better than that!”

Well, I don’t have a 5 year old. (Jonah is ten, and for those of you who don’t know, he’s a dog.) And if this blog has taught me nothing else, I’ve learned that funny isn’t something you can do on command, the way some people can burp or make fart noises with their armpits. Not that burping or farting is particularly funny. People seem to think it is, but it isn’t. Then again, after all these years, and all the jokes, I still don’t know what Funny is.

Maybe I’ll give up and buy a whoopee cushion.