It finally happened. I stopped being funny. I never really worried about this happening because I always assumed my humor was like my green eyes. You know, something constant. But unfortunately, it is more like my red hair; it has faded with time. So what do you do if your job is to write a humor column and you have lost all your laughs?
First, I examined what was going on in my life. Sure, I was bummed about my shoulder surgery. And the pain medication was making me a little unfocused—but I managed to get through college chemically challenged (on occasion), so I don’t think it’s that.
Maybe it was the election? I am not a sore loser, but I am disappointed in the outcome. I never threatened to move to Canada. Instead, I accepted the results even though it brought up one of my long-held regrets. Maybe it was the regret? Since 1978, I’ve been unhappy with the Electoral College. Yes, I am that big of a nerd that I can remember the moment, at Nerinx Hall High School while studying the Constitution, that I thought: You know, this just doesn’t seem right for a democracy. I should start a movement to repeal it. But no, instead I focused on field hockey, parties and being a teenager. I think about my dislike of the Electoral College only every four years when it’s time to vote. No, I don’t think it’s that.
Could it be Facebook? Is it time for me to stop being part of that community? I long for the days people posted cute baby, cat and puppy pictures. But now, even after the election, people are still hating on each other. Oh, and then the whole issue of fake news being spread on Facebook. I, myself, have always been a lover of the tabloids. Give me an issue of The National Enquirer and a beach chair, and I am summertime happy. So I was surprised to learn that people actually believed the stuff they read on Facebook. No, it couldn’t be that.
Perhaps this was pre-holiday depression. I love shopping for the perfect gifts for friends and family, but with my arm in a sling, I’ve managed to knock into more displays than even a klutz like me can get away with. So, I’ve been keenly interested in all the commercials for the perfect present. Some are quite catchy, but let me offer this advice to any male readers: Do not give your wife or girlfriend Weathertech Car Mats. Sure, it might be a great gift for a man, but they will likely become flying objects on Christmas morning if given to your honey (as will any blender or vacuum cleaner). As for the funny factor, I don’t think gifting is the problem.
In prior jobs I always had a business plan that would help me figure what’s next. I don’t have one for this job. Nor do I have a mission statement. Both sound like too much work. What I need is a motto. How about ‘At least one chuckle a column!’ Yes, that works. So here goes: Why can’t a nose be 12 inches long? Because then it would be a foot. Made you chuckle, didn’t I?
Contact Patty at phannum@townandstyle.com.
