Everything Used To Be Funny
Written by: Kuki
We used to be funny. I can still remember the days when we had a pretty good sense of humor. We used to find humor in almost anything that happened, and could generally find a way to relate what it was we found funny about something that happened.
Now, I’m on a quest to find out where our sense of humor went.
I know, personally, I’ve suddenly begun to feel old. At 61, each day, when I wake up, something else hurts. There’s nothing funny about that; it hurts. That’s just not funny.
I look in the mirror when I’m shaving, and I see an old person standing there. Instead of thinking how good I’m going to look that day, I’m thinking about what I can do to stop my nose hair from growing longer than my moustache . I’m wondering why the hair in my ears is getting thicker than my last waiter’s accent.
I used to go on a cruise and eat myself silly for a week, with 3 meals a day, and at least twice as many snacks in between, and a slice of pizza on the way back to my cabin. Now, after the first day I’m feeling bloated and bound, and by day two all I’m looking to eat is bran. There’s nothing funny about constipation.
Come on, I know most of you understand, and are now like me. Admit it. Our perspectives have changed.
We used to complain when they closed the disco or casino at 3 A.M. Now we complain about the quality of the toilet paper, and the noise coming in from the cabin next door; after-all, it’s passed 9 P.M.
One of my favorite things to do used to be to sit on the pool deck on sea days and admire the younger ladies in their bikinis. But I can no longer judge the age of these young ladies at a glance, so can’t tell if they are of “legal age”. It’s created a dilemma for me; I don’t know now if I’m just a dirty old man, or if I’m a pervert.
And, yes, when I stand up to walk to walk across the pool deck to the Lido Café, I certainly get old and crotchety when some of these young ladies ask if I need help getting across the deck. I now realize they aren‘t being flirtatious.
I used to find it funny watching all the people who’d obviously had a bit too much to drink, and get a kick out of watching them trying to climb up off the floor, thinking the leg rests on the bar stool is the bar railing.
Now I can’t remember the quips I overhear that are so funny; instead I’m too busy being amazed at how people who drink that much can go so long without having to pee.
I believe there’s only so much space in our brains, and the part that used to be dedicated to remembering old funny stories and jokes to tell, today is filled with passwords. We have to have passwords to access every part of our lives. When diving into your to access your brain for an old story or joke to tell, you float to the top with something that may be your Face book password.
There’s all that going on, and then today…. everything that comes out of our mouths, or is written on paper, has to be “politically correct”. And the screws of “political correctness” continue to tighten. Mention an ethnic group, or an endangered species, or any form of double entendre and your acceptance into social society can be revoked before you’re finished your thought.
There is one group left that it’s still politically correct to joke about…. That’s old people. Even if one of them doesn’t laugh at your story, it won’t matter because within a few minutes they’ll forget they were upset with you.
The problem there is even though they don’t remember why they’re mad, they do know they are mad, and that makes them really crotchety cruisers. And the even bigger problem is I’m now a part of that demographic.
Suddenly, without warning, my life went from happy go lucky, and occasionally funny, to knowing I’ve reached old and crotchety. And the thought of that makes me extremely crotchety.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll never find my sense of humor again. But at least I know I’m ready for Holland America’s version of the Flo-rider….sliding your hand into a glass to find your teeth in the dark.
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Posted: June 21st, 2011 under Kuki.