People who suffer from unfunnieness and their enablers
Stevemo blogger for the local rag
(there is so much fuggin’ wrong with a newspaper hiring gratis wannabe writers I don’t know where to begin) points me at another hipster comic blogger. I need a laugh (also need to steal an idea but that is another post) today so I take decisive action. I click the link
. The blog title's prediction, I fear, is incorrect.
Why do I have to be so decisive? Why can’t I be passive and just assume the comics will suck? Why? Why am I a chump? Why am I so optimistic? Why are people so blind to their ineptitude? Why? Why? Why? Whyfugginwhy? Why do writers think they are so fuggin funny when it is excruciatingly clear to everybody, including family members, that they are not? Nor will they ever be. They are hopeless, hapless, helpless. I cry every time they put pencil to paper. Seriously. I am misspelling the worlds (see!) because I can’t blink back tears quickly enough.
I am inspired to write the following.
The Marx Brothers are funny. You are not.
Dorothy Parker is witty. You are not.
Jonathan Winters is manic. You are depressive.
Andrea Martin is a genius. You are a dullard.
Jean Sheppard left us. You will not replace him.
Three Stooges are funny. You are not.
Modern Family is funny. You are not.
Nor are you cute, nor ridiculous (well, not that way).
I gave you five minutes, you ruined my day.
Hope you’re happy. Hope you go to your New Year's Eve party
And tell all your unfunny buddies how you brought
Yourself to tears.
Because it would break my fuggin' heart to find
That you aren’t getting any enjoyment out of your
Bob Hope is hilarious. You are not.
Phyllis Diller still rates. You never will.
I can’t believe how mad you make me.
I was funny. Now I’m like you.
Labels: things that ruin life