The Inner Comedian

The importance of keeping it alive

When I was a kid I wanted to be a comedian. I was constantly cracking myself up. I was always laughing. But over the years I finally learned that to be a successful comedian other people need to laugh, too.

That is the part I was not very good at. Oh, if only those other people were inside my brain. They would be laughing, too, and I would be rich.

My dad was a comedian. He cracked everyone up, especially me. I got all his very subtle jokes even if my siblings and our mother didn’t. Everyone else got them. I don’t know what their problem was. I would classify him as a Zen comedian, although I’m not sure any Buddhists would agree with me.

In junior high school I met a guy who quickly became my best friend. Why? Because he laughed at all my jokes. But I also laughed at all of his jokes. We were both funnier than hell. We spent many, many hours cracking each other up.

Then in high school we started smoking pot together and we got even funnier!

But no one else laughed at our jokes. We were like soul-mates or something with our own special language. Like so many strong relationships, ours was built on the foundation of competition. We were constantly competing with one another to see who could say the most hilarious thing. And, luckily for our relationship, there was no clear winner.

Being teenagers it was inevitable that we started to drift apart. The “gateway drug” of marijuana sent us on a path of sex, drugs, rock and roll, and fried chicken.

My friend kept getting fatter and fatter and I think he started to resent me because I smoked just as much pot as he did and I ate just as much fried chicken as he did but I never gained any weight.

Then he slept with my girlfriend which wasn’t very funny — especially since I hadn’t even slept with her yet.

After high school we went our separate ways. He went on to do a six-year stint in the Navy on his way to becoming a hardcore junkie. I went on a lifelong search for love, art, enlightenment, ‘financial success,’ and to find God. We met up a few times in the ensuing years but there was something glaringly lacking when we did: Laughter. To my shocking astonishment we could no make each other laugh.

His life ended tragically while still in his thirties in a drug-induced car accident.

My life kept going on. Luckily, I had given up any maniacal notions of becoming a comedian. Being a serious grown-up I fell under the notion that life was not so funny anymore. I did, however, continue to utilize subtle elements of humor in my mating rituals. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time it did not.

But then the unthinkable happened!

I met a woman who laughed at my jokes! On occasion I was able to throw her into uncontrollable fits of laughter. She actually fell to the ground many times. Once she was laughing so hard I thought I would have to take her to the hospital.

Needless to say, I married her as fast as I could.

Then “we” gave birth to a beautiful little girl and guess what? That girl ended up laughing at all my jokes! Can you see how fucking lucky I’ve been in my life?!

Sure, I may have never done stand-up on Johnny Carson or been invited to SNL and my grateful audience may have never numbered more than what I can count on my fingers but that has been enough to keep my inner comedian alive. That inner comedian who I bonded with as a child had managed to survive all these years of adulthood! How encouraging is that?!

After twenty years of marriage I was told that I just wasn’t as funny as I used to be. I blame my inner comedian but I’m not sure about that. After all, he still cracks me up constantly. But apparently his comedy went south. Or something did.

Even my daughter was not laughing so much anymore. My inner comedian was starting to freak out. Apparently, I am not a big enough audience for him.

Luckily, I have continued to be able to keep my inner comedian alive — and not just through my own eruptive laughter. The important thing about a comedian — or any artist — is they have at least a tiny audience. THE SIZE OF THE AUDIENCE DOES NOT MATTER! It only takes one other human in addition to you. Only one.

Beside myself, my inner comedian still has an audience of two; both little girls under the age of eleven. If he ever desperately needs to do a comedy routine all he has to do is follow me to my granddaughters’ house.

I figure that as long as I can keep him alive I can keep myself alive. After all, we seem to be inseparable.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. Complete White Feather Archive Index

Speaking of comedy…