Laughing at life and death.

I think. Therefore, I am funny.  And I know it. Because I laugh. At myself. Doesn’t matter that others don’t laugh. At me. Or at themselves.  Thing is. That I recognize. Beyond a doubt. That I was born to laugh. I can’t get through a day. Without laughing. Especially when I’m sad. Laughter. Even if it’s forced. Gets me out of the doldrums.  I go into my act. As a stand-up comic. Making a fool of myself. I don’t mind. My Italian amore accuses me of being silly. At the wrong times. But I don’t know if there’s a right time or a wrong time. For humor. Take a funeral, for instance. A funeral is a disaster. Unless the mourners find reason to laugh. Over the absurdity of life.  And death, too.--Jim Broede