I know, I know. There is nothing even the least bit amusing about the heading and image used that are launching this entry.
And to make matters worse, I had hoped to sprinkle this installment with the “F” word (Filmmaker) but ended up having to use the term “Comedian” instead.
I have a hypothesis.
My theory is basically that there are two kinds of people, those who are funny and those who are not. But the irony sometimes is that those who think they are funny are in some ways more apt to not be, than those who do not think they are.
Let’s start with people who don’t think they’re funny and would never picture themselves as being capable of having a career as a standup comic.
Especially in social situations where the joking and one-liners are flying back and forth at light speed, because they are insecure about their prowess to zing and zang, they sit there nodding their head up and down, with a grin that looks put-on, because it is.
The truth is that these very nice folks are incapable of participating in such antics even though they would like nothing more than to be able to. But tragically they are zinger deprived.
In such situations they have no effortless punchline or snappy retort at their fingertips. So instead, they do nothing, hoping that it is not noticed that they do not have any “comebacks.”
Therefore, what do they do? Nothing. They are quiet, sweet and and sincere. Awkward. Apologetic. Sensitive. Helpful. Giving. Even loving. But have zero faith in their jolliness.
If only they had the confidence to throw something out into the arena. Even if it was entirely not on target and was the wrong pie in the face at the wrong time, others would be forgiving.
We want to laugh WITH them, not AT them. Rewarding them with a big guffaw whenever we possibly can.
But the flipside of this is what was described at the start of this post. Someone who is CONVINCED beyond belief that they ARE a human chuckle machine.
There is nothing more annoying and not funny than someone who is certain they are wonderful with farce and other variations of the sidesplitting arts but are not the least bit uproarious.
They see themselves, when it comes to being whimsical, as having the Midas Touch. Meaning every clownish interlude they present, turns to jocular gold.
But if you recall the tale of King Midas, he gets his wish granted that everything he touches turns to, well, gold.
At first, he is thrilled about how how simple it is now to become richer and richer.
And when the greedy king meets with his daughter to share his good fortune, they say their hellos as they briefly embrace.
But then tragedy strikes. The royal’s beloved offspring turns into, yes that again, gold.
He loses his child. He loses what he truly valued much more than a precious metal.
What is the moral of the story?
It is that if you go to a comedy club to see your new boss doing his “side hustle” onstage and realize while he is performing that he is one of those people who THINKS they are funny but AREN’T after the show do NOT shake his hand!