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Holidays, Past and Present

“While shivering in my shoes, I strike a careless dwarf.”

Ahhh, you are telling yourself, I remember that line, or something like it. Yes, you do. It’s from “The King and I,” except it’s not the line you quite remember. My high school friend, a quick and witty and totally delightful fellow named “Moon,” tossed that line at me over 30 years ago, offhand, as we were laughing and generally cutting up at the Yankee Doodle Dandy Hamburgers next to my high school.

As I recall, I passed at least a pint of Coca-Cola through my nose. That line has stayed, stubbornly, with me ever since. I cried with laughter then, I still chuckle heartily when it comes to mind. I pulled it out during a church choir practice about 15 years ago, sitting next to the senior pastor. Just tossed it off to him. He did the same thing I did: laughed until he choked. We got yelled at by the very prissy and apparently routinely constipated choir director, who found no humor at all in our laughter back there in the tenor section.

Some people just don’t know what’s funny. Some people just don’t like to laugh.

I find that discomfiting, actually. There’s this fine line between crossing the line into bad stuff in comedy, and just skirting the line, as it were. But funny is funny, frankly, and it’s difficult to bear with those who are too censorious about what’s funny.

I do have personal limits, of course. No flatulence jokes, for instance. No Barack Obama jokes. Well, okay, maybe some Barack Obama jokes. Well, actually, lots of them. As many as I can write, in fact. No jokes about heart attacks, which I have personally suffered. Well, maybe just this one: “My advice on heart attacks is this: avoid ‘em. They hurt like hell.”

And of course, fair game always includes anything that pokes gentle fun at my doppelganger, without disparaging him too much. No cigar jokes. No, really. Hillary made me swear off them. No innuendo. Which is, of course, an inherently funny word, all by itself. Say it out loud to yourself, 4 or 5 times, quickly.

Now, stop, because you’re blushing.

There are some words that are just plain funny by themselves. All comedy writers know this. At least, that’s what all the books say: “All comedy writers know the 7 funniest words, ever, so if you don’t know them, YOU AIN’T ONE OF US.”

It’s like a secret handshake: they can show you, but then…well, you know.

What, you are asking yourself, are those ‘7 funniest words ever?”

Words like, “cow,” “attorney,” “shoe horn,” “weasel,” “cucumber,” “Trekkie,” “Democratically-elected,” and my favorite, “nuh-uhhh!” “Nuh-uhhh” is the universal word for “whoa, no way, not me, buddy, don’t even think it, what? Me? Who? What? I’m Vinnie Barbarino!” and is recognized in every human language except Urdu.

By the way, for the record, nothing translates easily into Urdu. In fact, the name “Urdu” itself translates quite clumsily into Urdu as “Al Gore.”

Go figure.

See? Comedy writing can be fun. And, it’s nowhere near as painful as, say, spinal surgery without anesthesia, although the results are often the same: continued pain, no relief in sight, and most people around you will become quite unsympathetic the longer you try.

Imagine the caveman, sitting with the entire Caveman clan around the fire, trying to entertain the family after a long day of killing dinosaurs with sharp pokey things. There they sit, burping and farting as mastodon hair burns in gentle wisps of stinky blue singed vapor, waiting for the head of the clan to slay ‘em all with a barrage of witty one-liners: “Say, Glagg, is that a pterodactyl in your pocket, or are you just glad to ARRRRRGGGGHHHH!” as his wife stabs him for telling that joke once too often.

Let’s face it, writing comedy is tough. And we don’t even live around campfires any more. However, the modern-day equivalent is nearly upon us: the dreaded Thanksgiving Day Holiday, wherein all the males of the family will avoid the kitchen like the plague while all the females scurry about for less time than it takes for diamonds to form within the Earth’s crust preparing a meal that will take only more time than a sneeze to devour. Then, it’s off to the real manly activities of the day: watching Dallas pound the Seahawks, then more triptophane-laced ‘snacks’ that would feed an entire Somali family for 3 generations, then pow! Right to the couch for a nap.

“Say, Grampa, is that a bottle of Viagra in your pocket or are you just glad to ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!”

Grandma has learned Kung-Fu, it would appear.

In closing, here’s a little musical segment for your listening enjoyment. Imagine you are actually hearing this song. Like, radio – in your head. Scary, huh?

So many songs offer opportunities to parody and rewrite lines. For example, the song, “Thank God, I’m a Country Boy,” by John Denver…as if sung by George W. Bush…

“well, my daddy was the Prez and I got an idear
to fight for our rights and to make the country freer
Brother Jeb said, hey, it looks great from Flori-deer…
thank God, I’m the President

imagine 9-11 with Al instead of me
he worries ‘bout the planet more than keepin’ us free
he’d give away our country to be Oscar-worthy
thank God, I’m the President

well, I got me a tank and I got me a missile
when the ‘stakes’ get tough, I just chew on the gristle
Iran has got materials that could be made fissile –
thank God I’m the President

well my daddy said ‘Read My Lips!’ and tried
to bottle up Saddam and keep us strong inside
I decided I would give Saddam nowhere to hide –
Thank God, I’m the President

Our economy is woozy, but there ain’t been no attacks
Since Americans stood up and stiffened up our backs
And what the French said about us now they have to take back
Thank God, I’m the President…”

See? It’s easy to write comedy if you try.

Yeah, right.

And a Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

© 2008 R. D. Leigh