Humour Is Just Goofy Reasoning.

We laugh because we’re human and suck at being serious.

Robert Cormack
ART + marketing

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Courtesy of Pinterest

If someone told me a sense humour was so vital in relationships, I could have avoided a lot of sex!” Kate Beckinsale

Humour has been with us a long time — actually longer than people. Think back to the beginning of what we call creation. If two amoeba hadn’t bumped into each other millions of years ago, we wouldn’t be here. You could say we owe our evolution to slapstick.

Since then, we’ve dodged dinosaurs, fought wars with pointed sticks, even tried dropping anvils on each other’s heads (revisited by Wile-E-Coyote). You might say we’ve evolved because of humour — even when it hurt.

Rather than lose his troops, Washington ordered them to cross the river in leaky boats. He stood on the bow because bows tend to sink last.

There’s been a lot of humour in our history. Even George Washington’s crossing of the Delaware was a bit of a sideshow. Many of the enlistments were finishing their terms of duty (not to mention deserting). Rather than lose his troops, Washington ordered them to cross the river in leaky boats. He stood on the bow because bows tend to sink last.

Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address was first reported as one of the worst speeches ever made. Nobody knew what “fourscore” meant. It wasn’t until Charles Laughton recited the Gettysburg Address in the movie “Ruggles of Red Gap” that people saw the true theatre of Lincoln’s words. Laughton was asked to recite it many times. He finally had to inform people he was British.

George W. Bush couldn’t spell potatoes while visiting a primary school.

It could be said that humor has followed all presidents. Richard Nixon once told a reporter “A president can do anything he wants.” He was later impeached. This greatly surprised him. It surprised Gerald Ford even more since he had to assume the presidency. He often fell down stairs at airports.

Bill Clinton was supposed to be impeached under two articles of lying under oath and obstructing justice. He was acquitted instead, and Monica Lewinsky left the White House to make purses.

George W. Bush couldn’t spell potatoes while visiting a primary school.

Presidents seem to create a flow-down effect, leaving a lot of open ground for the rest of America to be goofy. During the worst storm in history, hunters were warned not to shoot at Hurricane Irma. At the same time, civil rights activists took exception to blacks being targeted for looting shoe stores in Miami. The activists felt police should have focused their attention on stray dogs.

Very few stray dogs loot shoe stores during hurricanes.

We seem to thrive on goofy reasoning. It shows we’re human and suck at being serious. We may seem a bit daft, but why question motives when a man being pecked by a goose in the nuts gets 2 million hits on Facebook?

It’s good to know it wasn’t us getting pecked in the nuts, or arrested for stealing shoes in 100 mph winds.

“Everything is funny, as long as it’s happening to somebody else,” Will Rogers once said. There’s a lot of truth in that. It’s good to know it wasn’t us getting pecked in the nuts, or arrested for stealing shoes in 100 mph winds. Humor allows us to be voyeurs, laughing at what could have been us.

When current events are funnier than sitcoms, there’s something soothing about that. First of all, we show we can laugh. Secondly, we accept the overall goofiness of life in general. It puts the world in context.

Like the commercial where two parents videotape their children spreading finger paint all over the washroom. “Let’s send in the dog,” the wife says, and the sheepdog becomes a fury Jackson Pollack mural. As the husband cleans up the mess, the woman posts the video and gets 40k hits.

As calming as laugher may be, some people seem to think it’s undignified outside of their own rec rooms.

As long as something’s funny, it can’t be stupid. Or it can be stupid and funny, anyway. We don’t make distinctions. If the tragic events of Hurricane Irma can be softened by someone saving a chicken from a bordello roof, why not? It breaks the monotony of pain and forbearance.

Humor gets us through the rough patches. As Milton Berle once said, “Laughter is an instant vacation.” The crazy irony is, we don’t take enough vacations. As calming as laugher may be, some people seem to think it’s undignified outside of their own rec rooms.

This is particularly true of writing. I’ve noticed far more seriousness than humour on social media. People seem to prefer serious discourse, thinking their jobs — and lives — depend on it. Obviously this isn’t the case since serious people get fired and die all the time.

Yet, each day, thousands of briefs, letters and emails attest to our seriousness. We use the terminology of corporate culture. We communicate facts and figures, figuring it clarifies who and what we are.

Think of the millions saved on commercials and promotions just by being humorous — and human. It actually sells.

In truth, all these things make us less human. The day I moved from serious writing to satire, my audience grew a hundredfold. Where people used to take exception to something I wrote, now I get things like: “I read this over breakfast. Squirted coffee out my nose. Thanks for the nasal clearance.”

In some ways, it’s like the aftermath of Hurricane Irma. Strangers helped each other just like humour helps all of us cope. Imagine if advertisers and corporate interests understood this. Think of the millions they could save by being humorous — and human—instead of treating us like dweebs.

Why am I talking millions? Based on all the overly-serious advertising, none of which is remotely believable, I’d say humour could save them billions.

But then they wouldn’t be taken seriously, would they? Actually, we’d be taken a lot more seriously than they are now. Which probably isn’t saying much.

That’s sort of funny, too.

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Robert Cormack is a humorist, novelist and blogger. His first novel “You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive)” is available online and at most major bookstores. Check out Robert’s other articles and stories at robertcormack.net

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Robert Cormack
ART + marketing

I did a poor imitation of Don Draper for 40 years before writing my first novel. I'm currently in the final stages of a children's book. Lucky me.