Saved by the Bouyancy of Citrus

I thought this random, yet hilarious familiar sounding phrase would be just the right one for my blog post on humour. It comes from a stand-up special with Mitch Hendberg, one of my favorite comedians. Tonight I attended a comedy show featuring Colin Mochrie and Brad Sherwood, of Whose Line is It Anyway?, and on the way home I decided I would write about it in my blog, so truly funny a show was it. When in front of my computer, however, after veiwing the first chapter of Whitmore, the Toad Pirate, I realized that the blog entry should really be about humour in general. Humour is something I hold in very high regard, as evidenced by my mastery of it, as well as my usage of the pretentious British spelling for it.
Ever since I was young I've had a natural aptitude for funny. When I was but a lad of 4 I had the guests at my uncle's wedding reception in stitches with my stories of romantic endeavors. All my life, making people laugh has come easily for me, and, more importantly, is something I enjoy doing. I like making people laugh not just for social acceptance or popularity, nor for the thrill one gets after stand-up or sketch comedy performances, not even for the hundreds of incredibly hot women who have wild sex with me with no strings attached because of how damn funny I am. No, I enjoy it so much because I think it to be a noble thing to do, trying to brighten people's days and bring humour to an oft joyless and Puritanical world. And while one's ambitions and hopes of bringing laughter to the downtrodden can be crushed by horrendous censorship-mongering joy-killing assholes, like Sr. Connie, *winks at Sr.*, or by the soulless tools who aid them, *hey, Mr. Paul*, the terrible feeling of hate toward the oppressors, or sadness at the loss of laughter, is far less than the feeling of true happiness at making others feel better through something as awesome as humour.
So, this is my tribute to humour:

First, I'd like to talk about the show I saw tonight . . . uh . . . yesterday. It was Springfield Symphony Hall. Colin Mochrie and Brad Sherwood played extended Improv comedy games, some from Whose Line, some I've never seen before. It included a large amount of audience participation. Some of the highlights were: The long game of Whose Line; the finale, a twenty minute-long sequence in which Colin left the room while the audience gave Brad suggestions about a crime Colin had commtitted (he rented Gigli and painted his grass purple while wearing only a jellyfish, a mousetrap, and a lego block, in Agawam, at the Up Yours Sewage Cleaning Facility, but left at the scene of the crime a poncho, a castinette, and a chicken) and when Colin returned, Brad had to get him to confess the crime by giving him clues. (example: you like the show CHiPs, right? Well how would Erci Estrada's name [Ponch] be if he was Irish? [O'Ponch] and you were dyslexic [Ponch o]); and the best game of the night: The most dangerous Improv game ever performed: 100 mousetraps were laid out. Colin and Brad had to do the Alpahbet Game while barefoot and blindfolded amongst 100 set mousetraps. Painful hilarity galore! I hope I can go to another show like that soon.

Secondly, for anyone who's humour needs work, or who is interested in Humour Theory, I recommend the book "How to Be Funny," by Jon Macks. I found most of it obvious, a bit like Mozart reading a book on introductory composing, but it was insightful and I doubt I could have explained humour nearly as well, despite already having realized most of what he was writing about. The book itself was funny, which is a plus. I have a copy if there are any interested parties who want to borrow.

Next, I'd like to mention something I really love in my relationships with my friends, something I have just dubbed "humour exchange." This occurs when one friend introduces a joke or phrase into the group and one or more friends adopts it into their our repetoire. For instance, when Tony writes or memorizes a song, and we try to learn it, or at least dance with him when he sings it, or when someone . . . I think it was me . . . introduces "Zing," from where ever I stole it, and other people start to use it. I felt very close to Tony when I first heard him say "zing." It signifies something more than our jokes and senses of humour being pleasing to the masses; it means that our friends, whose humour we admire, appreciate ours enough to use it. I love that.

I think true humour needs to come naturally. It can't be developed or learned. If you have it, it can be perfected, but if you don't, you can never be consistently hilarious.

Watching the humour you decide to attempt is also important. I have no doubt that Tones is so great at Python sketches, or EJ at crazy funny, or myself moderately successful at stand-up, because we have watched hours of it.

I need a style for my stand-up. As of now it's very indistinct. I mean, I'm not dirty like Dave Attell, or loud and angry like Lewis Black, or confusingly insightful and half coherent like Micth Hedberg. I gotta work on that.

Here are some stand-up dates. I'll hopefully be performing at PACE, along with a lot of others, on these nights, so clear ya calendars.
Friday June 4
Thursday July 1
Thursday August 5.

I think that's all I got for now. I'm really tired and coked up outta my mind . . . no, wait, just tired. So forgive this entry's brevity, lack of logic, and spelling errors, it's like 2 in the morning.

Rich's Joke Corner will be replaced by Mitch Hedberg's thoughts on life.

Mitch Hedberg's Thoughts On Life:

I like sandwiches. I always order Club Sandwiches, even though I'm not a member. I don't know how I get away with it. Club Sandwiches. "I like three slices of bread in my sandwich." "Me too, let's start a club."
"We need ground rules. We'll cut the sandwich once, then again. Four mini-triangle sandwiches. Arranged in a circle." "And in the middle we will put chips, or potato salad." "Okay, but I need to ask you, what do you think of frilly tooth picks?" "I'm all for 'em." "Me too. This club is formed! Spread the word on menus nation-wide." "I like my sandwich with alfalfa sprouts." "Fuck you, you're not in the club!"

I don't know much about cars. If my car stops runnin' and the gas light isn't on "E," I'm fucked. If it is on "E" I get all cocky. "I got this one! Let me get out my tool box, a.k.a. wallet." I'd make a lousy mechanic. People'd bring their cars into me, "My car won't start." "Uh . . . maybe there's a killer after you."

I have an ocillating fan at my aparment. It moves back and forth. It looks like it's sayin' no. So I ask it questions a fan would say no to. "Do you keep my hair in place?" "Do you leave my documents in order?" "Do you have three settings?" "Liar!" My fan fuckin' lied to me. I will pull your button up, now you ain't sayin' shit!"

Well, thanks to all you for reading this. More on humour later, probably. And thanks to all my friends out there who are funny. You know who you are. (Probably anybody reading this.) I'm off to sleep now. ZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzz. . . .

Current Mood: Tired.
Current Music: Tired.