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Sunday, June 26, 2016

Breaking Down My Funny Bone

I Am Funny. 
Really, I am. 

I can even be hysterically-bend over-holding your guts funny.
On the rare occasion, someone listens long enough to hear it.
Listening is a lost art. 
Hearing what a person says; all of what a person says and watching their body language. 
Instead we listen to prepare a response. 
Never truly hearing what the person is trying to convey.
I catch myself doing this consistently.
I'm afraid my carefully prepared comment will be wandering around in the recesses of my brain, like a toddler in a toy store. 
Unretrievable, heading to the general populace of the mall.
Perhaps that thought should disappear. 
How could I truly know how to respond when I have still to listen, to hear?!
Now, back to my funny bone.
I can also be sharp and cutting. Revealing that foible or indiscretion of yours.
Enter sarcasm...
Having tamped my latent sarcasm over decades; I continue to yearn for my sidekick. 
Sarcasm was my greatest companion in my party days. Hours of inebriated hilarity. 
I guffawed, they chortled, we corporately snickered as the poor soul with the invisible bullseye was verbally skewered. 
Somehow enjoying their own skewering and consorting with the howling throng.
Sarcasm was also my greatest weapon of defense, when I was scared or hurt. 
Which was often.
"Defense is the best offense", was my litany. 
Strike first lest you be struck, et al.
One day I realized sarcasm could be painful to the recipient and I reformed my ways. 
Cold turkey off the sarcasm was akin to when I quit smoking cold turkey. Seriously true. 
Man, I think I did both in the same year. Whew! The year of rehabilitation.
In the 2 decades since I have allowed a modicum of sarcasm to season my verbiage.
Like the dry drunk indulging in an occasional O'Doul's near-beer. 
I believe I know my limitations, but could honestly relapse quickly and cheerfully.
The majority of my humor is dry, witty, off-the-cuff, and is spoken into the wind.
My funny bone is probably best enjoyed by me, myself, and I.
But if you listen, really listen, you may harken to the rare chimes of a fleeting repartee.

Ciao for now,

1 comment:

Jean Moore said...

LOVE this for aZ Sunday AM!!! Thanks