Laugh At This, At Least

You know what has always really freaked me out and made me profoundly uncomfortable? Humourless people. People who absolutely never laugh, who appear not to LIKE to laugh. There's something about that that's way spookier than, oh, I don't know, say, poltergeists. It's wrong. That's what it is. It's just plain wrong.

I encounter humourless students fairly often. They're a small minority, but you see them all the time. The class will be roaring over something hilarious somebody said and you look over and there's one or two kids that can be counted on to sit grim-faced no matter what. And you just want to smack them. Until they laugh.

I'm not talking about dumb people who don't GET jokes. That's excusable, I guess, though sad. I mean folks who have intellect but appear not to enjoy jokes. Who find laughing a chore. That's outright scary to me.

I don't know what I'd do if I were the parent of a humourless child. Two words come to mind, however. Ice floe.

I feel guilty sometimes for disdaining humourless people. It's a possibility that they were traumatized in childhood or something and all the mirth went out of them. But I don't know. Sometimes you just get the impression that they almost look down on humour. Like you must when something is beneath you.

You just want to scream, "LIGHTEN UP!" and light them on funny fire.

I don't think we should sit idly by and let the humourless be a drag on everybody else's fun. I think we should round 'em up. Stick 'em on planes. Send them to a really unfunny place. Russia comes to mind. Where everybody looks like somebody just dropped an iron curtain on their foot. Where citizens are required by law to be grim-faced. Which would explain why the most popular comedian there is Paulie Shore.

I just realized the irony of this little piece on humourlessness. It's by far my least funny one yet. Dear God. I'm spooking myself.

Am I horrified?

Da.

My iPod And i

This is a horrible secret to confess, but if there were a fire and it came down to rescuing my loved ones or my iPod, I'd probably have to flip hot coins.

Most things in lifeI could live without in a pinch if I had to, except air and water and Start Me Up by the Stones. But if I had to give up oxygen or my iPod, I'd need some time to think.

Because what a wondrous device. Wow. I used to make a ton of mixed cassette tapes, and I remember getting all excited when 120-minute tapes came out, in the Bronze Age, because you could fit so many songs on them. Making playlists now is so mind-bogglingly easy and enjoyable in comparison that I honestly don't believe human beings should be allowed to have so much fun. If you had told me then that in a few years there would be a thin little gadget that fit in my palm that would hold my entire music collection plus thousands of tunes more, I would've thought you were a liar and punched you repeatedly. It's a marvel, that's what the iPod is. A triumph of mankind. Like pizza, but even better, and, believe me, that's saying more than you can ever know.

So when I say I really like my iPod, I don't mean I've grown immensely fond of it or anything that pedestrian. I now actively worship it, prostrating myself spontaneously before it in tribute at odd moments and praying to it loudly at night to solve my many horrifying problems. I carry it near my heart wherever I go, in the breast pocket of my shirts and jackets. I like it better than things that others die for, like freedom. In the spirit of openness and candor, I'll bet I like it a billion times more than, oh, say, you. No offense, I hope. I'm just saying.

An iPod puts a soundtrack on your day. You walk around with mood music playing that accentuates each 'scene' in the movie of your life. The problem is that you can get to the point where you neglect the script by avoiding dialogue. I'm ambling down the hall of my building on Shuffle. No Rain by Blind Melon comes on. Instantly I am transported to a rapturous place! My very molecules frolic, galvanized by the happy surprise! But wait! There, at the elevator! It's that really nice old couple that always want to chat so pleasantly! Damn! Now I'll have to hit Pause, and I would much rather fling them down the shaft. My God. What kind of a monster am I becoming? You worry about yourself sometimes, with an iPod.

Actually, when you think about it, iPods bring the generations together. The elderly like iPods. They don't own any, but they like them. Because now young and old alike can relate to walking around going, "WHAAAT?" Pointing apologetically at their ears. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU." It's a bonding thing.

If I ever lost my iPod, I would begin systematically pillaging houses door to door, slaughtering the occupants, until I found it. This also, sadly, is not hyperbole.

You might be surprised to know that I actually am not terribly fond of the name "iPod". I think it sounds too much like some kind of plant that eats you in a science fiction movie or something. I think it should be called simply The Wonderful Thing.

That's my motto. "Life Is A Wonderful Thing."

Now, when I say it, you'll know what I mean.

My Secret Sin

It's probably not entirely commendable to admit I'm a fan of the show COPS. It's become the same sort of guilty, unadmitted pleasure known to readers of the Enquirer. But I am, and I just bought the new 20th anniversary dvd set, and I often record the show. I don't go around admitting it to the world, that's all. Only to my loyal blog readers. It's a secret, just between us, okay? Swear?

There was a Canadian version of COPS. It sucked like an imploding star. Its title was the worst in the entire history of television - B.A.C. It stood for Battle Against Crime. That was the best they could come up with. I think they should've just gone ahead and called it WGN for We Got Nothin'. It would've been more honest and a lot less lame.

And it was DULL. First of all, the Canadian cops, in the tried and true Canadian way, were always chiefly concerned with being ultra-polite to the crooks. They were like, "Look, I'm awfully sorry, and I don't mean to be rude, but put your hands behind your back, okay, please, sir? You're under arrest, eh? But we deeply regret it." In the American show, they're civil to the suspects, but you just sense that, if there weren't a camera crew there, 'suspect' would mean 'suspected skull fracture' for the poor purple perp.

And the BAC episodes focussed, as they tend to now with To Serve And Protect, which is only marginally better than BAC, but with a way better title, on the most mundane crimes. Every episode of COPS has high-speed chases and shootouts and robberies and brawls and bloodshed. On the Canadian cops shows, it's usually speeders and college kids partying too loudly and serial litterers. Once, I swear this is true, the little blurb in the TV Guide for COPS said "Domestic violence call; tanker trailer chase; drugstore hold-up" and the ad for BAC said "Cops battle mosquitoes". I nearly emigrated on the spot.

It's an educational show. I've learned a lot watching COPS. I did not know that the vast majority of crimes in America are committed in trailer parks by men without shirts. I didn't realize that all hookers are so rotund and hideous (and, as it turns out in the end, so to speak, male). I didn't know that the standard police question of bystanders is, "Where's he at?" I had no idea that the first command a policeman generally gives an arrestee is, "Put down your beer." (Actually, I guess that last one would probably apply equally to Canadians, except that up here the suspect would've already voluntarily put his down for fear of spilling some.)

A buddy of mine eschews COPS, saying he can't stand to watch, as alleged entertainment, people being busted. (I think his true attitude is probably, "There but for the grace of God go I.") Yet he watches those shows in which camera crews turn up where cheaters are trying to have affairs. And I've never seen anybody more busted than those poor losers.

So yes, I admit it, shoot me with a standard-issue thirty-eight, but I enjoy COPS, okay?

I know, I know. Bad boy, bad boy.

But whatcha gonna do?

The Long-Delayed Procrastination Blog

I realize I've been proctrastinating far too long and not keeping this blog up to date. I hate myself. Well, maybe that's putting it a tad strongly, but I do dislike myself quite intensely; I've slapped myself around for it, and I'm no longer on speaking terms, so I hope that suffices by way of atonement.

I've long been a procrastinator. I don't start things right away that really need starting. I'm sure if there were a flood, the water would get to my nostrils and I'd say, "Huh. Look at that. Water to my nostrils. I really should get going. Drowning sucks. I'm outta here. Soon. In the very near future, I am going to flee for my life, yes, sir." It would serve me right if they delayed the recovery efforts. Send FEMA to save me or something.

A lot of people, probably the majority, put off doing things they don't want to do. That's human, and understandable. But I'm so chronic I'll put off things I'm DYing to do. "Suuure would like a nice, cold drink of juice," I'll say. "I must go get me one. Sure wish I had a trusty manservant. Lord, I'm parched. Why does the kitchen have to be so far? Aw, forget it. Blow it off. It's good for a person to dry out now and then. I'll get a delicious, ice cold drink later."

I have been known to sit and watch shows like Cretaceans Of Guam for an hour because I can't be bothered to search for the remote.

My delay mode has been responsible for the deaths of millions of innocent fuzzy little strawberries.

I don't call people back sometimes until they're actively raising their children to hate me.

This is extremely embarrassing, but I once sent my parents a nice Christmas present. In July. Five months early? No, seven months late.

Why do people procrastinate? What mysterious psychological mechanism drives us to put off doing things even when we know the stress of not doing them will vastly diminish our overall happiness and emotional health? How the hell should I know? I'll look it up later.

Anyway, I'm back at the blog thang and I promise to write a new one much more often and I appreciate those of you who tell me you've been visiting this little site. It feels good to be back at it again. Now, let's see. All I need is an ending. Um....

Oh, well. I'm sure one will come to me tomorrow. I'll bet a nice nap would inspire me.

Now, that I'll get to immediately.