The Nature of Humor..
Things that only happen to people with literary names...
A while ago, I order a book entitled "Deadly Doses: A writer's guid to poisons." The bookstore called me to say that it had arrived on Wed., but something I said reminded my mother to tell me on Sunday, so I went to pick it up after work. When I went into the store, I told the person who worked there that I was here to pick up a book about poisons, where they were located, and how I can use them. He asked my name. I said, "Dorian Gray." And for some reason he seemed really disturbed as I paid for my book and went on my way. I was trying to figure out why, and then it occurred to me...
I have the name of a literary character. So, when first I meet some people they often times don't believe me when I tell them my name. So in other words, all this poor guy knows is that someone used a fake name to order a book on the use of poisons... The only thing that would've made it more perfect was if before coming to the counter for his help I'd gone to the Starbucks in the store and bought some sort of pastry (which I seriously considered doing, coincidentally)
In other news..
I've been contemplating the nature of humor recently. What spawned this? Well..
I'm about to cross Charles Street, waiting of course for the person on my left to cross first, in case any traffic might forget to stop. To my right is an older white lady, who's apparently doing the same thing. This young "thug" lookin' kid, brushes between us, nearly knocking her over, and just stomps out into the middle of the street with apparently no concept of his own mortality, forcing cars to skid to a halt as he mugs and postures his way across the street. She glared at him disapprovingly. I, more to myself than anyone else, said, "Um.. wow. That was really ignorant." She bursts out laughing.. now here's my question.
Why exactly? Was it the way that I said it? Was it that she didn't expect something like that to come from someone who looked like me? (I was dressed in a thick black jacket, just like him, and a black bandanna) Or was it because I said something that she was afraid to say for fear of appearing bigoted, and in some small way gave her a sense of release?
In any case, she seemed in a better mood by the end than she was when I first encountered her, and that, only on a much larger scale is why I do comedy. I know it sounds hokey and wholesome and pure and all the other things I try my best not to be, but the reason I make stories, I draw, I act, and I do standup, is because I LOVE the idea that other people are enjoying themselves because of me. In that way at least, I love making people happy. (I'm so ashamed! My evil points are going to get revoked!)
But what is humor? This guy Marcus I know insisted while defending his love of comedian Tom Green (which in my opinion is as worthwhile as trying to defend pedophilia) that comedy is what makes us uncomfortable. But I don't know if I agree with that. George Burns once made the comment after seeing a beautiful woman;
"A girl like that makes me wish I was 80 again."
I thought that was witty and funny, but it didn't make me uncomfortable in the slightest.
My favorite types of comics are those full of good old-fashioned wit, like Groucho Marx, George Burns, Milton Berle, and my hero Mary Ellen Hooper. Also, I live the odd and random thinkers like Eddie Izzard. I think the appeal of such people are obvious, they have a different way of looking at things. They make everyday things enjoyable by putting them in a different perspective.
What about comics who like to shock people, like Andrew "Dice" Clay, the writers of South Park and Drawn Together? What makes them funny? Is it the minds reaction to shocked sensibilities? It seems that in a safe environment, the mind is consistently attracted to things that are "bad."
Hm. Work tomorrow. Perhaps more on this later.
A while ago, I order a book entitled "Deadly Doses: A writer's guid to poisons." The bookstore called me to say that it had arrived on Wed., but something I said reminded my mother to tell me on Sunday, so I went to pick it up after work. When I went into the store, I told the person who worked there that I was here to pick up a book about poisons, where they were located, and how I can use them. He asked my name. I said, "Dorian Gray." And for some reason he seemed really disturbed as I paid for my book and went on my way. I was trying to figure out why, and then it occurred to me...
I have the name of a literary character. So, when first I meet some people they often times don't believe me when I tell them my name. So in other words, all this poor guy knows is that someone used a fake name to order a book on the use of poisons... The only thing that would've made it more perfect was if before coming to the counter for his help I'd gone to the Starbucks in the store and bought some sort of pastry (which I seriously considered doing, coincidentally)
In other news..
I've been contemplating the nature of humor recently. What spawned this? Well..
I'm about to cross Charles Street, waiting of course for the person on my left to cross first, in case any traffic might forget to stop. To my right is an older white lady, who's apparently doing the same thing. This young "thug" lookin' kid, brushes between us, nearly knocking her over, and just stomps out into the middle of the street with apparently no concept of his own mortality, forcing cars to skid to a halt as he mugs and postures his way across the street. She glared at him disapprovingly. I, more to myself than anyone else, said, "Um.. wow. That was really ignorant." She bursts out laughing.. now here's my question.
Why exactly? Was it the way that I said it? Was it that she didn't expect something like that to come from someone who looked like me? (I was dressed in a thick black jacket, just like him, and a black bandanna) Or was it because I said something that she was afraid to say for fear of appearing bigoted, and in some small way gave her a sense of release?
In any case, she seemed in a better mood by the end than she was when I first encountered her, and that, only on a much larger scale is why I do comedy. I know it sounds hokey and wholesome and pure and all the other things I try my best not to be, but the reason I make stories, I draw, I act, and I do standup, is because I LOVE the idea that other people are enjoying themselves because of me. In that way at least, I love making people happy. (I'm so ashamed! My evil points are going to get revoked!)
But what is humor? This guy Marcus I know insisted while defending his love of comedian Tom Green (which in my opinion is as worthwhile as trying to defend pedophilia) that comedy is what makes us uncomfortable. But I don't know if I agree with that. George Burns once made the comment after seeing a beautiful woman;
"A girl like that makes me wish I was 80 again."
I thought that was witty and funny, but it didn't make me uncomfortable in the slightest.
My favorite types of comics are those full of good old-fashioned wit, like Groucho Marx, George Burns, Milton Berle, and my hero Mary Ellen Hooper. Also, I live the odd and random thinkers like Eddie Izzard. I think the appeal of such people are obvious, they have a different way of looking at things. They make everyday things enjoyable by putting them in a different perspective.
What about comics who like to shock people, like Andrew "Dice" Clay, the writers of South Park and Drawn Together? What makes them funny? Is it the minds reaction to shocked sensibilities? It seems that in a safe environment, the mind is consistently attracted to things that are "bad."
Hm. Work tomorrow. Perhaps more on this later.