I-search "Why"

"The Joke."
The Joke and I have a long and troubled history. I have admired it from afar. It's many purveyors I have loved and listened to. I have studied at the feet of masters. The construction of even one really funny joke has still yet eluded me. I get off a few amusing lines and sarcastic snipes now and then but have never really created any meaningful humour. It is much harder than it looks. Our troubled relationship began with my brothers room.
In the impenetrable fortress of my brothers room lay untold treasure. I was four years younger then he and it seemed that he was a sage on the order of the Pharisees to my little eyes. The door was always just a little ajar, a dim light shining throught the dingy curtains. A musty, unpleasant, and yet familiar odor wafted from that room and it called to me. Whenever I was home sick I would sneak in and look through his books and magazines. Most of them bored me, they were about sports or weight lifting. The others I was much too young to understand. Mixed into the barbells and clothes on the floor were different colored tapes and their discarded, shattered cases. I picked up a few that interested me and scuttled off to my room like a racoon with a particularly tasty bit of rubbish he must defend from the others. First I had taken note of their exact position on the floor and how they had been laid so that I could return them later. My brother would kill me if he knew I had violated the forbidden threshold.
I had listened to Bill Cosby in the past and I loved his routines. I had all his albums even though I knew that many of them had been recorded twenty years before I was born. His style and the attention he paid to each joke was mesmerizing. I loved the long stories with the rewarding punchlines, I could have done many of his routines by rote from just the hearing. Many of my tapes had been listened to so many times that the text on them was rubbing off. I knew their names without it. I also knew the names of some of the comedians my brother listened to. The tapes that I pilfered were Eddie Murphy's "Raw" and Richard Pryor's "Live on the Sunset Strip." It was twice as sweet knowing that he didn't know and would be mad if he did but also knowing that in hearing the content of the albums I was getting away with something that would enrage both my parents too. It was a win-win situation. I settled in at noon and prepared for a long day of listening and laughing.
After the first five minutes of "Raw" I was rolling on the floor. The actual substance of what was being said ran right past me, it was the absolutely filthy words being spit out with staccatto intensity that made me laugh from sheer nervousness. I didn't know some of the words and some of the jokes were beyond me, not having even reached puberty yet. His use of profanity transcended mere swearing and sailed boldly into the realm of genius. He worked in dirty words the way Van Gogh worked in oils, the way Emeril works with garlic, it was glorious. I didn't know that anyone could produce this effect in me, and I wanted more. I listened to Richard Pryor and it was a very different experience. Although he used the same langauge it seemed even more purposeful. As if some of the things that he had been through had to be expressed that way. In fact it seemed that many of the words had been created simply for him. The shocking part of his comedy wasn't the potty mouth, it was the honesty. He was so honest about horryfing situations like running down the street on fire. "I didn't burn up freebasing! I burnt up cuz I QUIT freebasing, I lit my arm accidentally!" This was where I first got the impression that there was something deep embedded there. Richard reached into his soul stuff and slopped out heaping spoonfuls of the awful truth onto the floor for everyone to see. No topic was too intimate, too taboo. He could stand on that stage and bare his soul, eviscerate himself and be laughed at for it... but it was okay. There was no Pagliacci backlash, just goofy fun. It changed me, that day I became a wiser man and I owed it all to Richard.
I replaced the albums after copying them for myself and made a point to hide the copies. I could only listen to them when I was alone since I was not allowed to have these kinds of records. I was restricted by age and disturbingly aware and apt parenting to having Wierd Al Yankovic and Ray Stevens. Ray was wonderful and so was Old Al but after you taste Filet Mignon, you'll never feel the same about oatmeal. I managed to score a Robin Williams album from a friend and I was dissapointed. There was truth, there were laughs. It was slapstick, somewhat less genuine. I loved Robin Williams' movies but his comedy wasn't really my bag. I got into Gallagher for a while since my mother would let rent his videos and it was the same thing. Funny, well constructed, and orginal, but slapstick. You can only smack so many watermelons I didn't want to laugh at someone, I wanted to learn something about myself and the world around while laughing.
Then I spirited a copy of Sam Kinison's "Have You Seen Me Lately?" from my friends. He had no fear, he had no reservations, and he was painfully honest about hellfire relationships and heavenly parties. He played a beautiful strain of piano music that ended in "You lying Whore! You used me! I hope you slide under a gas truck and taste your own blood, Die! Die!" He screamed and it was lightning hitting the stage, he laughed and it was gunfire strafing his audience... his technique was impressive and his potential unlimited. At that time Sinbad and Howie Mandell came out and they were O.K. Howie bored me after only one pass and Sinbad only had one or two albums.
I was older when I first heard George Carlin. He changed my outlook on a lot more than just comedy. The sheer amount of material he had produced made him appealing to me, I wanted to hear it all. His early stuff was funny and spirited, with political satire and characters. Stories of his youth, material that he had to write to make it on T.V. Then the seven words came to my attention. All seven delightful little parsnips of profane pleasure will forever be emblazoned on my soul. He had the courage to overcome the censors, he stood up to everyone in seven dirty seconds. He made a case for the absurdity of denying the first amendment that everyone had to stand up and listen to making me aware of just how silly it was to show pictures of men dying in war casually and often but restricting people from discussing their bodies and making love as if they were things to be ashamed of. I listened to him often and heeded what I heard. His love of language and his ability to use it to fight more vicously and with more violence than any warrior has ever hoped to prosecute his conflict sold me on the power of words. He also changed my thinking, he convinced me that words are powerless, it is the intention behind them that is significant.
Lenny Bruce came into my life when I was ready, and I still contemplate a lot of what he said. His barbituate induced manias produced some incredible routines. It became at once apparent that he had started the whole of the tradition of amusing sages I had come to know and love and I cherished each of his works. He is the only comedian to make me cry while trying to make me laugh. He made a song called "All Alone" that was so bitter and sad that in the midst of a healthy chuckle I found myself choked up.
Since then there has been Lewis Black, Mitch Hedburg, Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock, Eddie Izzard and Dane Cook. I'm sure there will be a score more and there is constantly standup on Comedy Central so I am never without. Those brave few I have mentioned and their contemporaries have taught me to love and respect words and their power. They have taught me to never be afraid to laugh at myself and to be above all other things honest. Honest with everyone, including myself. I have always envied them, though. For I am not really very funny. So I endeavor then, with research and method, to construct one funny thing. Anecdote, story, joke, limerick, Haiku, I don't care. Someone will laugh at my efforts and in that there will be ultimate success!