I'll probably over-analyze this, as is my way. I think humor is the unexpected juxtaposition of seemingly contrary things, which forms an absurdity. Another aspect of humor is the intentional breaking of taboos, usually coupled with self-mockery or self-parody.
Many people are perplexed by various types of crude humor, but I have realized that it's only actually funny as a contrast, perhaps to the way we're expected to behave in most places of our lives. Even the tolerance for that kind of thing is a matter of taste.
If we're crude all the time, crude humor doesn't shock or surprise. I think the unexpected is a key ingredient of humor. I still haven't watched a whole lot of the TV show Seinfeld. I know, I need to do that. That comedy works, because we have expectations about how decent people are supposed to conduct themselves. None of the erstwhile protagonists are flagrantly evil, in any sort of historic sense. Still, they consistently miss opportunities to do the little thing, which tends to mark beloved people out from the rest of us. I suppose in that way, the show can make us laugh, while teaching us about the good life. I remember seeing the final episode, and thinking it was quite funny. Then I had a fearful, self-accusing thought: I hope my particular judgment is not like the trial of those characters. We can laugh at it, because it was funny and none of the characters is real. Still, I have never wanted to be the guy everyone thinks is just okay, at best.
I continue to think about the interesting relationship between laughter, and sorrow. It sure seems like some of the funniest people who have ever lived are those who suffered greatly. Perhaps that is the appeal of nihilism, because one accepts the absurd as the steady-state of the universe. At that moment, you have two choices: despair or laughter. I never put much value in this so-called, "cheerful nihilism" that's going around. The point of laughing at the absurd is that the absurd is not actually the steady-state of the universe. How are you supposed to be cheerful, if there's no plan, and no point to anything?
Religion offers many opportunities for well-placed humor, but not of the kind that outsiders tend to think. Mocking God is always a bad idea, and mocking those in spiritual authority--human though they are--might even be worse. What's the saying? Always punch up, not down. And in that case, punching horizontally ends up a waste. I think the big part of humor in a religious context is the juxtaposition of faith, and the experience of the testing of that faith, with the awareness of all that is less than ideal. Strangely enough, this may also be the juxtaposition that produces a saint.
Lord, I'm trying not to laugh now, so I don't end up on the wrong end of one of your woes. There is a lot of sadness, isn't there? I hope it pays off, in the end.
Many people are perplexed by various types of crude humor, but I have realized that it's only actually funny as a contrast, perhaps to the way we're expected to behave in most places of our lives. Even the tolerance for that kind of thing is a matter of taste.
If we're crude all the time, crude humor doesn't shock or surprise. I think the unexpected is a key ingredient of humor. I still haven't watched a whole lot of the TV show Seinfeld. I know, I need to do that. That comedy works, because we have expectations about how decent people are supposed to conduct themselves. None of the erstwhile protagonists are flagrantly evil, in any sort of historic sense. Still, they consistently miss opportunities to do the little thing, which tends to mark beloved people out from the rest of us. I suppose in that way, the show can make us laugh, while teaching us about the good life. I remember seeing the final episode, and thinking it was quite funny. Then I had a fearful, self-accusing thought: I hope my particular judgment is not like the trial of those characters. We can laugh at it, because it was funny and none of the characters is real. Still, I have never wanted to be the guy everyone thinks is just okay, at best.
I continue to think about the interesting relationship between laughter, and sorrow. It sure seems like some of the funniest people who have ever lived are those who suffered greatly. Perhaps that is the appeal of nihilism, because one accepts the absurd as the steady-state of the universe. At that moment, you have two choices: despair or laughter. I never put much value in this so-called, "cheerful nihilism" that's going around. The point of laughing at the absurd is that the absurd is not actually the steady-state of the universe. How are you supposed to be cheerful, if there's no plan, and no point to anything?
Religion offers many opportunities for well-placed humor, but not of the kind that outsiders tend to think. Mocking God is always a bad idea, and mocking those in spiritual authority--human though they are--might even be worse. What's the saying? Always punch up, not down. And in that case, punching horizontally ends up a waste. I think the big part of humor in a religious context is the juxtaposition of faith, and the experience of the testing of that faith, with the awareness of all that is less than ideal. Strangely enough, this may also be the juxtaposition that produces a saint.
Lord, I'm trying not to laugh now, so I don't end up on the wrong end of one of your woes. There is a lot of sadness, isn't there? I hope it pays off, in the end.
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