Humor

I’ve never been a fan of humiliation humor. I know that there are some brilliant comedians and sketch writers who are extremely successful delivering laughs out of embarrassing situations. Larry David comes to mind. 

But when I see a sketch or hear a comic relying on humiliating themselves or others, I feel it too deeply. I cringe in my soul. It’s like being claustrophobic, which I am. The body just won’t listen and betrays me, with all of the physiological responses of shame. And it doesn’t matter what I think about it or how detached I try to be. Something in me, in my past or my conditioning still goes right to shame. 

The humor that really works for me is like what Terri Tate and David Roche do. It’s the comedy of telling the truth about the absurdity of being human. Just the bare, unadorned truths that no one else will say. Truths about our foibles, or bodies, our private thoughts, even about our mistakes and embarrassing situations. But not in a way that make the listener cringe. Rather in simple, humble observations that everyone else can recognize as, yes, I’ve felt that or done that. Or something like that. Or thought or said or assumed. 

This type of comedy brings the audience in, lets us identify with the character or comic instead or pitying them or turning away. Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Steven Wright, Chris Rock and others have told us hard truths, and it wasn’t always pretty, often quite the opposite. But the laughs come out of the recognition that this is life, this is indeed how it is, if not for me, then for others. There are few pleasures as rich and soul refreshing as deep shared laughter that springs out of these strange truths.