Sometimes I sit down to write and I swear some spirit of righteousness overtakes me. I go from being perfectly reasonable to being perfectly intolerable. A magical soapbox slides under my tush and suddenly I'm on top of all the legitimate arguments in this world. I wonder what goes on inside me? Does the bottled rage at closed minds and poor leadership just sit there on simmer until it sees a place where it can boil over? Perhaps, this is exactly what happens.
I am like many of us: I don't agree with our political class or our slick mega-corporations. I am like some of us who also don't agree with all this moral judgment that is clouding the real issue of scarcity and a changing globe under pressure from climate and population overruns. I also have a real problem with those who judge and judge most harshly and most concentratedly on women and their uteri. I guess, I'm just being honest and this is how I do it, through writing, so when the desire to get serious and indignant rises in me I've decided now to channel Kurt Vonnegut via Lucille Ball.
Now, I'm not as smart or as funny as Vonnegut but I'm going to do my best. I will jump up and down with a painted face and a red mane of hair and tell jokes about the whole mess of human existence. I will scream like a senile barn owl, doing the literary equivalent of the hokey pokey if I have to, so that poor people will stop making themselves poorer by buying slave labor goods from the rest of the world in items two sizes too small to fill closets of equal proportion. I will do all sorts of things to bring to my own and everyone else's attention that we've lost our sense of humour. In a world of fear, whimsy is one of the first things to go.
Making people laugh isn't my strong suit. Of course it would happen by accident here and there throughout life; like the time I peed myself at a dance recital because I was too scared to ask permission to use the restroom. There I was, stuck in the middle of the time step in a huge auditorium to the sounds of Mary Poppins, making a puddle. So, there it is, a thin proof that I have at least once in my life made people chuckle, especially my 9 year old brother and my grandmother who found the whole thing utterly adorable.
I feel so much better knowing that I've accomplished so little by being serious and that I will soon accomplish much more by being ridiculous. I may not be a Reverend Billy Tallen and I'm definitely no Vonnegut or Hitchens (who was often hysterical) but I've got a little pee stained light and I'm gonna let it shine. Let it shine, shine...shine.