I wouldn’t call myself a particularly creative person.
That being said, I’m quite surprised I have the confidence to write for the campus paper. Although I wouldn’t necessarily consider that an accomplishment because they were willing to accept my first draft, in which I discussed the secret life of squirrels.
But despite my incessant ramblings, I found myself with nothing to write about this week. In an unceremonious act of laziness, I decided to question, “What is humor?”
After all, I do pretend to write it.
My first thoughts were not about its origins, society’s take on it, or cognitive brain science, but about myself, naturally, and what I find funny. If you know me, you’ll have witnessed me laughing at things and trying to show them to other people who stare blankly at my phone screen.
If you don’t know me, I really wouldn’t recommend meeting me because you could be doing so much better things with your time, like counting the ceiling tiles in your bedroom or cutting grass with scissors. However, if you would like to discuss a question that has been assailing my mind lately—“are cats nihilists?”—please reach out.
Here follows an abridged list of what I find funny:
1. That video of pigeons being sucked into an industrial grain plant in Russia. At first you’re not really sure what you’re watching, and then you notice that these birds are slowly being sucked one by one into this grain mill.
Some of them realize what’s happening but usually by the time they do their efforts are futile and they make one last ditch attempt to escape and get sucked in with their wing splayed against the grain. This lasts for at least a minute. Brilliant.
2. That vine where the kid says “pussy.”
3. Extremely dark and twisted jokes about the blissful release of death. It might be saying something if in almost every piece of writing I submit to a professor I include a postscript urging them not to CARE report me.
This isn’t because I think I’m a mentally stable person who doesn’t need to talk to a professional, but because talking to a stranger about my problems gives me anxiety and makes me cry. As you can imagine, on my quest to become an animatronic, emotionless robot, this is a real setback.
Really though, how am I supposed to write something humorous when half the people I know find the cutesy, innocent humor of “New Girl” to their taste? I can’t write something that caters to the pansies of the world while also appeasing those whose idea of comedy is uncomfortable footage of Adam Sandler in every movie he’s starred in or people who find those “Cash Me Outside” memes funny. Guys, they’re really not. So, I guess what’s most important is that at least I find myself funny.
Or do I?
