You know, I may not be the funniest guy in the world but I have my moments.
I kid you not, I have had occasional dreams where I do whole stand-up routines with fresh jokes. Now maybe they're not so funny when they see the light of day but seriously, some of them are not half bad when you are asleep.
I wonder about the capacity of the human brain and subconscious to engage in humor on the fly like that. Or is it just my weird mind?
The other night I had a dream where I was entertaining a crew of people at a cabana on the beach. I killed them (in the comic sense.) Laughs galore. Unfortunately you will have to take my word for it right now, they are sort of indisposed at the moment.
I can only remember one joke that I told my somnolent crowd.
"How do you kill a mathematician?"
It's easiest to swing them from a hypot-e-noose.
Now I admit that this is not exactly a thigh slapper but my god, this is my brain working in the middle of the night, cut me some slack alright?
I told Friedman my joke, my sometime daytime stand up partner, a guy who had a long career writing jokes professionally for people like Bob Hope and Phyllis Diller. He was non-plussed, stifled a yawn, told me not to quit my day job. Nary a snicker, more like a snore. Probably just jealous. Like he could get those kind of crowds in la la land. Charitably, he told me that I would probably knock them dead at M.I.T. with that one. Obviously experts hate it when somebody cuts into their turf.
I get it, it's not my best work but jeezus, I was sleeping. And if you are interested, I will be playing all week, at Tony's Champagne Room. The Holiday Inn in Sleepsville, right off the interstate, land of nod, book your tickets now.
3 comments:
I hear they need a stand up routine at the Mad Greek in Baker.
I think it's pretty good for being sound asleep. My husband was a writer and often had silly dreams of this type that had sort of 8th grade level humor, but they were funny. Once he had a menacing dream where he was cornered by a bad man with a gun. Well, he had a gun to, but when he pulled it out to defend himself, it turned into a banana.
8th grade? I guess I have matriculated. My wife accuses me of having fifth grade humor. Classic case of arrested development. Cool!
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