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Shut Up and Tell More Jokes

Went to the New Paltz craft fair to get my totemic typewriter key bracelet repaired.

Saw these necklaces.

Then a very strange thing happened.

I heard this boom—like the loudest peal of thunder you’ve ever heard—and this huge crack appeared in the ground. And a black stage arose from the crack on which were standing four men in black leather armor and matching headgear. They were abnormally tall! And I think dry ice was involved somehow.

“Buy those pendants, or we’ll shoot your cats,” said the abnormally tallest of the four. He was using some kind of voice distortion apparatus.

Well, I mean—what could I do?

I love my cats!

I had to buy those pendants, right?

What choice did I have?

Best use of one of those awful Hummel dolls I’ve ever seen. And I’ve been a mahjong fan since seeing Crazy Rich Asians.


Crafts fairs are always a mixed bag. One has to admire the time and love that goes into the creation of the jewelry, the stained glass, the wooden furniture, the knitted and crocheted wintergarb, but inevitably, there’s much of a sameness to the items you see. They’re like expertly done covers of familiar rock ‘n’ roll songs.

Design is the differentiating factor.

And it’s difficult to come up with creative designs that are scalable, utilitarian, and aesthetically pleasing.

That said, there were some other pieces I would definitely have spent money on if I had money lying around under the mattress.

These lamps and candle sticks. (My personal aesthetic is anthropomorphic!)

These handbags. (Although, of course, you could never in a million years use one).

I avoided doing anything useful for the rest of the day by going on a long hike—eight miles since you ask. It’s back in the high 90s again today, so I had to get my exercise in since it’s doubtful I will be leaving the house. Heat advisory!

On the drive home, I listened to a radio show that played segments from Richard Pryor’s Wanted album.

Richard Pryor was once one of my favorite comedians.

Hearing Richard Pryor made me flash on a conversation I had several years ago with My Son, the Social Justice Warrior.

(Yes, yes, I’ve told this story many times before, but each time I tell it, my son and I say different things to each other, depending upon my mood and the point I’m trying to make to some invisible audience, so I love retelling it.)

I was desperately trying to explain to Max why humor is the most wonderful thing in the world because it’s a little satori! It’s a moment of kenshō. In a perfect world, there wouldn’t be any jokes!

“Yes,” said Max, “but in a perfect world, there wouldn’t be any racism, sexism, or other forms of political oppression either! Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Isn’t that worth getting rid of humor?”

To which—political reactionary that I am—I could only scream, NO! No! A thousand times, no!

"I just watched some comic on Netflix," [profile] chezsci told me yesterday. "And he railed for ten minutes about Picasso and how horrible Picasso was. And I was thinking - Jesus, grow up, of course Picasso was a piece of shit; everyone is a piece of shit, shut up and tell more jokes."

This entry was originally posted at http://mallorys-camera.dreamwidth.org. You may leave comments on either Dreamwidth or LiveJournal if you like.



Sep. 4th, 2018 05:38 pm (UTC)
Re: You asked for it, sort of
Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Now that's funny!

I also like the one whose punchline is, Do you think something happened to him?