IF YOU CAN’T LAUGH AT YOURSELF
How In Tarnation Do You Expect Others Will?
Let me explain:
“Seriosity – yes, its a real word (not a silly, fabricated ‘Kuchism’ … I wish) derived from post-classical Latin ‘Seriositas’ – has its place.”
Ok, now I get it.
ARE YOU SERIOUS?
Don’t Be …
In the company of children. Nope, they’ll think you’re a dink.
At sexy time. Never … ew, no.
Funerals. Okay, but lighten up, too.
In the mirror. Don’t think so.
Standing before a jury. Yeah, sure, if you think it’ll help.
Home alone. No way, don’t do it.
“I tried it once. Didn’t care for the taste. Citrusy, with a briny afterbite, and a hint of wet dog, sauerkraut and pencil shavings. Ended up in a fetal position rocking myself to therapy … then started writing a blog.”
The Quintessential Pacifier of Ego-Gone-Bad Because It Had Nowhere Else To Go.
A light-hearted gateway to momentary enlightenment.
A trusted friend to extinguish the nemesis of uninvited stress.
Your Soul telling you to,
“Lighten All The Way Up, Slim.”
LAUGHING AT SELF
Dissipates The Nasty Trifecta of Hurt, Anger and Resentment into Absolute Nothingness.
The Unequivocal Equalizer When:
“Your Fabulous Life – Yep, The Same One Your Swollen Ego So Meticulously Cultivated And Curated To Espouse The Finest You … And No One Else Gives A Flaming Sh!t About – Isn’t Always Strawberries & Cream, Darling.”
Then dumps a warm load of “There You Go, Fancy Pants … Happy, Now?” on your inflated melon.
AS A GLUTEN-FREE, KETOGENIC-APPROVED BONUS
“Slaps a Big Infectious Smile on Your Happy Mug and The Beautiful Faces of Those Around You.”
So, that works out just dandy, right?
UNNECESSARY DIGRESSION ABOUT A SSHOLES
Without A Sense Of Humor.
It’s not a stretch to claim:
“Every atrocity ever committed in the History of The World was caused by a Godless, Egomaniacal Coward Without A Funny Bone and Packing A Baby Carrot In His Boxers.”
All, y’all, know exactly who you are.
No need to point fingers, Adolf.
The inability to laugh at Self is sad more than funny.
Fortunately, we now have the remedy to fix such dilemmas.
THIS INCLUDES, SPECIFICALLY, BUT NOT EXCLUSIVELY
My 7th Grade Music Teacher, ‘Fake Buddy’.
Maestro to a nefarious mob of unteachable adolescent infidels.
“Because, sir, you most definitely are not Buddy Holly.”
… That’ll Be The Day …
Or, Elvis Costello.
Though you tried your treacherously best to be Leader of The Crickets.
Favored Buddy’s thick-rimmed glasses … and sported a nappy hairdo no curl relaxant could tame.
… Oh Boy! …
All together now:
“You were a mean prick, Mr. Grinch.”
Did you have to be such a hard ass?
What did you expect from us?
We had the attention span of smelts and the collective musical talent of Yoko Ono.
Being in awe of musical genius – Let’s go with Buddy not Yoko – doesn’t make you one.
FUN FACT CONFESSION
You should also know, Fake Buddy, your fate was narrowly aborted and precariously close to that of a too friendly, fellow creepy teacher pal of yours, Monsieur Tangelo.
Think about that, failed never was musical prodigy.
Also, I don’t remember you ever apologizing for throwing a chalk brush at a cluster of inattentive 12 year-olds.
“Me, being prime target amongst the horde of the juvenile disrupters of peace, because I dared to snicker at your crimson scorched, bi-weekly temper tantrums and for strategizing the uprising to a state of mutiny. Admittedly, yes, we all sucked unimaginably and unmercifully at playing musical instruments none of us ever wanted to learn. French Horn? Clarinet? Okay, fine, Saxophone, Trumpet, Percussion. Big whoop! We were a bunch of untalented, unappreciative dinks, but this is what you get for … banishing a wooden yard/metre stick – pointer thingy – in our Clearasil ® buffered faces, then breaking the pine cleanly in half on your desk. Th-wack, Th-wack!”
You made every girl in the class, cry.
And, Raymond, too.
You know poor Ray-Ray still has trouble sleeping?
Alas, there is forgiveness.
I get you.
After watching Whiplash.
Thank you, J.K. Simmons.
TRY AGAIN, IN THE MIRROR
Get There First Before Your Ego Crashes The Pity Party And Starts Telling You Lies Your Vanity Is Gullible Enough To Believe.
Humor and Laughter work for free, so don’t wait until Black Friday to get some.
They hustle for your attention.
Like your prized pooch … always there to greet you at home.
Good times and bad days.
Never betrays you … the way resentment does.
At the ready to Love It Out Unconditionally when you need it most, or not at all.
EMANATES FROM A HUMBLE HEART
A Place of Self-Acceptance and Self-Love.
A Sanctuary in Knowing True Self.
With humility to expose, and intellect to internally resolve, one’s conflicts, struggles and challenges.
Not as failures, but as possibilities and soulful nutrients to grow.
In sharing vulnerabilities through truth and faith.
This is Soul Food for Building Strength, friends.
ON GOOD DAYS, I LAUGH MY ASS OFF …
… Drop My Britches and Take A Long Slide Down An Icy, Cold Mountain.
Not really, I’m paraphrasing over here.
But I Do Get Busy Filling Up with Joyful Moments To Fill My Soul.
mostly good many great Almost Always Awesome Days.
“Even the sh!tty ones are miracles.”
Yes, they’re are exceptions, but that’s all on me.
It helps to discover – Accept and Ignite – your True Purpose In Life.
As Your Spiritual Enabler.
To get your moral compass realigned.
ON GREAT DAYS, I MAY CRY … A LITTLE
As I Reflect With Gratitude On A Blessed Life.
For all I’ve been given.
For what I don’t have.
For where I am.
Life without tears is empty.
THE BELOVED JIM VALVANO SAID IT BEST:
“To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives.
Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day.
Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought.
And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy.
But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that’s a full day. That’s a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you’re going to have something special.”
BEATING EGO WITH HUMOR
Give Yourself A Terrible Nickname.
It could be something completely out of character or not obvious.
Mine is exceptionally offensive – unrepeatable – but humbling …
You needn’t share it now or ever.
It could be unimaginable to others or something you’re not particularly fond about.
I use it as an internal safe word – a silent Call-to-Action – to remind myself I’m being out of line, or my character is percolating beyond good sense and decency, i.e. acting like an ass.
IT SETTLES ME INSTANTLY
Recalibrates My Being As A Nonessential Micro Organism On This Planet.
Simmers my mood when I’m off-loading negative diatribes.
Restores a balanced perspective and existence.
Puts Love back where it belongs.
TEARS ARE JOY
With Manageable Pain.
You want this.
We need to hurt a little …
To Love a lot.
Because we forget when tears dry.
KEEP LAUGHING & CRYING
Cry in the mirror.
Laugh it out.
Watch yourself laugh and you’ll never
want to stop.
Let me know how it goes, Peggy Sue.