billy paul - let's stay together

What has one hundred balls and screws old ladies?

The answer is bingo.

I watched the First Annual Comedy Awards on Comedy Central last night before succumbing to slumber. I’m therefore thinking of humor this morning and have decided to share my opinion about who deserves comedy kudos and who doesn’t.

Funny is subjective. I know this. And our senses of humor change and evolve. I don’t really laugh as hard as my six-year-old does at the antics on Nickelodeon, and poop jokes don’t bring me to my knees like they do the toddler next door. I’ve found that some comedians used to make me bust a gut within 30 seconds of walking onstage and now, after ten minutes or so, I reach for the remote. (Interestingly, Anita doesn’t share my sense of humor, although she laughs at my jokes out of love and tolerates my late-night Comedy Central viewing because, well, there’s only one television in our bedroom.)

It’s not an all-encompassing list. I’ve included people I probably shouldn’t have and omitted people who belong here somewhere. And since I’ve only seen Steven Wright and Rodney Dangerfield in person, most of my exposure has been through the magic of the Boob Tube. (Heh heh, I said “boob.”) There’s probably something to be said for being in a crowd of laughing people.

Anyway, this is what I think:

There are the comedians who crack me up every time, the ones who I try hard to catch if I see their names in TV Guide: Ron White, Paula Poundstone, Steven Wright, Rita Rudner, Colin Quinn, Jack Black, George Carlin, Kevin James, Ray Romano, Ralphie May, Patton Oswalt, Pee Wee Herman, Sarah Silverman, David Spade, Wanda Sykes, Gene Wilder, Louis C.K., Jim Gaffigan, Aziz Ansari.

Those who are not only funny on stage but probably a riot to hang out with: Kathy Griffin, Tracy Morgan, Jim Carrey, Ricky Gervais, George Carlin (up until 2008), Chris Rock, Dane Cook, Larry David, Tina Fey, Bill Murray, Eddie Murphy.

There are those who I wished I liked because I know I’m supposed to but they just don’t tickle the funny bone: John Cleese and the Monty Python people; Don Rickles; Zach Galifianakis; Rowan and Martin, Goldie Hawn, Ruth Buzzi, Lily Tomlin and the Laugh In people; The Wayans brothers; The Kids in the Hall.

Those who are dead and I’m sad ‘cause they were hilarious: Paul Lynde, Leslie Nielsen, George Carlin, Bernie Mac, Walter Matthau, Flip Wilson, Chris Farley, Richard Pryor, Charlie Callas, Gilda Radner, Rodney Dangerfield, Dudley Moore.

Those who are dead and I’m not as sad as others are: Lenny Bruce, Bill Hicks, Sam Kinison, Jackie Gleason, The Marx Brothers, The Three Stooges, Andy Kaufman, Laurel and Hardy, Soupy Sales, Redd Foxx, John Belushi, Bob Hope.

Those who used to make me laugh but their careers seem to be dead: Bobcat Goldthwait, Judy Tenuta, Rita Rudner, Chris Tucker, Elayne Boosler.

Those who are not funny and should STFU and sell shoes instead: Dennis Miller, Larry the Cable Guy, Jay Leno, Carrot Top, Gallagher, Gilbert Gottfried, Mike Myers, Bob Saget, Pauly Shore, "Weird Al" Yankovic, Andrew “Dice” Clay, Andy Dick (heh heh, I said “dick”), Tom Arnold.

Those who I respect but don’t laugh at: David Brenner, Tim Allen, Howie Mandel, Louie Anderson, Jerry Seinfeld, Drew Carey, Billy Crystal, George Lopez, Conan O’Brien, Rosie O’Donnell, Adam Sandler, Jonathan Winters, Chevy Chase, Margaret Cho, Cheech and Chong, Roseanne, Bill Cosby, David Letterman, The Smothers Brothers, Lucille Ball.

Those who used to make me laugh but not anymore, really: Dana Carvey, Joan Rivers, Steve Martin, Will Ferrell, D.L. Hughley, Abbott and Costello (with the exception of “Who’s on First?” which still makes me laugh every time), Richard Lewis, Bob Newhart, Robin Williams, Penn & Teller, Ellen DeGeneres, Jeff Foxworthy and – this one pains me – Betty White.

Those who make me think: Janeane Garofalo, George Carlin, Bill Maher, Jon Stewart, Steven Colbert, Lewis Black. (Dennis Miller used to be in this category before The Change. Now he just makes me queasy.)

Those who have good writers and can deliver a line but probably aren’t as funny in real life: Steve Carell, Russell Brand, Sasha Baron Cohen.

Speaking of jokes, there are some that are as funny to me today as they were a thousand times ago when I first heard them. This includes Steven Wright’s, “I poured spot remover on my dog and now it’s gone.”

I told you, comedy is subjective.

Harry Chapin - Cat's in the Cradle

Sunday poetry

Heritage

One gave his child vast riches - spent his life
In hoarding it. His child, love-starved, grew old
In search of joy, desired and vaguely missed,
In search of something never bought with gold.

Another gave his child companionship.
Taught him content and laughter; love of skies
And fields; the joy of being kind. His child
Knew not that he was poor in others' eyes.

One gave his child vast gold - and left him poor.
"Rank poverty or wealth in each heart lies."
This was the other's priceless legacy.
Both loved - but one was blind, and one was wise.

~ Isla Paschal Richardson

Only girl in the world

Mozart Symphony #40 in G Minor, K 550 - 1. Molto Allegro

One person's cacophony is another's symphony

I’m sitting in the dining room, waiting for the writing to happen. I’m listening to bacon frying in the kitchen, unattended, and Anita trying to corral the kids upstairs. Devina, our six-year-old, is singing something, as usual, which makes it difficult to eavesdrop from the comfort of my computer chair.

Now Anita is in the kitchen, presumably turning the bacon with a fork, and reprimanding our eight- and nine-year-olds, who have come downstairs to tattle on each other. Saturday mornings are not conducive to writing in this house. They’re not conducive to anything that doesn’t involve attending to the needs of four demanding preteens – their need for attention, supervision, food, entertainment, more food, and more attention.

It’s weird. Most of the time nine-year-old Bryant and eight-year-old Maya fight like two junkyard dogs who must protect their territory or else the world will end, and yet I’ll catch Bryant fixing Maya’s bike chain or Maya getting Bryant a blanket without being asked while we’re watching a movie.

Eleven-year-old Nikita will hole up in her room behind a closed door 98 percent of the time, but every once in a while I’ll find her helping Maya make a birthday card or asking to go on a bike ride with her brother and sisters while adjusting Devina’s helmet.

If the kids say they want to make breakfast together, I’ll steel myself for drama and bickering only to witness them cooperating and being courteous, each handling their assigned responsibilities without complaint and no one fighting to be the person who gets to stand up on the chair. (In our house, only one child at a time is allowed to pull a chair up to the island and watch the pancakes/French toast/eggs/omelette/whatever cook on the stove from above.)

I wish they would display respect and appreciation for each other more. I wish the love each of them has for their siblings would manifest itself more regularly and obviously.

In this house you’re a referee, teacher, redirector, first responder, and breaker-up-of-fights whether you want to be or not. If you had other plans or intentions or desires, too bad. Being a part of this family is all-encompassing, completely engulfing. If you try to withdraw and let the other grownup handle things, you find yourself managing a frustrated grownup as well as four rambunctious youngsters. It’s mandatory, obligatory, compulsory to engage.

And these are good kids too – the kind of kids who want to behave and do the right thing and be praised and earn positive reports at parent/teacher conferences. (Parent/teacher conferences with these stellar students are one of my all-time favorite treats.) I can’t imagine if we had to deal with four disrespectful hellions running around, destroying furniture and wreaking havoc. Trying to maintain order and steal time to post on a blog are challenging enough with four sweethearts.

Sometimes I wonder if I belong here. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing and making the right decisions. I, like most parents and partners, constantly question and second-guess myself and wish for do-overs. I’m doing it right now.

“Listen up!,” Anita just shouted to the arguing children upstairs. “Work together!”

This is my Brahms, my Mozart, the music that accompanies my fingers tapping on the keyboard.