Tag Archives: Jenny Lawson

What Animal Would You Be?

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Once some other journalists and I were dining with the Archbishop of Jamaica. We were all reporting on an organization called Food for the Poor which, naturally enough, gave food to the poor of Jamaica and Haiti. (I was originally supposed to go to Haiti when violence erupted. When they began to shoot presidential candidates, I wasn’t worried. There was not much chance I could be mistaken for a presidential candidate. But then they started shooting journalists, which we all could be mistaken for, and the itinerary was changed. But I digress.)

After His Grace had left, we journalists continued talking among ourselves. One guy said he had really wanted to ask the Archbishop this question: “Your Grace, a question and a follow-up. If you could be any animal, what would you be? And why?”

It seemed a splendid question, and I vowed that I would someday use it. (I’ve also vowed that the next time I got caught in one of those round-robin “Say something you like about yourself” ice-breakers, I would say, “I really love my peaches, and I can totally shake my own tree.” But I digress again.)

I dined with some Irish journalists once, but didn’t try it out then. They were already looking askance at me because I asked who they thought would win the Eurovision pop singing contest, when they were more interested in American presidential politics and whether Jesse Jackson had a chance in hell. (He didn’t.)

I interviewed Bob Keeshan (aka Captain Kangaroo), but again chickened out. He was so impassioned about children’s issues. (One of our other writers got to interview Fred (Mr.) Rogers. I think I might have tried it out on him. But I digress yet again.)

When I asked my friends the question(s), they all said they’d be cats—but only if they could be their own pets. All pampered, no strays. (I didn’t get the impression that they wanted to be purebred cats with diamond collars. Just to have full food and water bowls, some toys, a human who would offer snuggles and petting, a warm place to sleep, occasional treats, and all the love and attention they desired. But I digress some more.)

Once when I was teaching English to a group of young adults, I gave them the questions as a writing assignment. The answers were revealing. Half the class wanted to be eagles, falcons, or migratory birds. The other half wanted to be apex predators—lions, tigers, jaguars, sharks, and the like. What I got from their answers was that they wanted either freedom and escape, or power.

Finally, at long last, I got a proper answer to my questions. It was at a book signing by Jenny Lawson (aka The Bloggess). After the reading but before the line-up for signed copies and photos, there was indeed a question-and-answer session. Jenny Lawson is quite well-known for being eccentric (not to say peculiar), with a great and idiosyncratic sense of humor. Here was the perfect opportunity to spring my question.

As soon as the Q and A was announced, my hand shot up, and I was promptly called on. “A question and a follow-up. If you could be any animal, what would you be? And why?”

Jenny blinked, obviously taken aback. I felt quite sure that she had never been asked this at a Q and A before. But it didn’t rattle her.

“A tapeworm,” she replied. “ Because I could just lie there and people would throw food down at me. I wouldn’t even have to move.”

I was satisfied. At last I had a reasonable answer to my question. And no doubt a good deal better one than His Grace, the Archbishop of Jamaica, would have come up with!

What’s So Funny?

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If you ask me (which no one did), the funniest joke there is, is this one:

What did the Zen master say to the hotdog vendor?

“Make me one with everything.”

The second funniest is:

First Old Lady: My, it’s windy today.

Second Old Lady: No, it’s Thursday.

Third Old Lady: So am I. Let’s go have a cup of tea.

(I have a friend whose favorite joke is a filthy one about a guy in a clock shop. But I digress, and refuse to tell it here.)

What makes something funny? There are theories which sound scientific. One is that “a violation of expectations or incongruity between what is expected and what actually occurs” is the source of humor. I’m not sure if that applies to my favorite jokes, but I think it does to the filthy one. Another theory is that “humor can arise from a sense of superiority or relief that comes from perceiving oneself as better than others or from being relieved of a perceived threat.” That sounds like a load of dingo’s kidneys to me and doesn’t explain either of my favorite jokes. (I don’t think that I feel superior to the three old ladies. The older I get, the more sympathy I have for them. But I digress again.)

Anyway, I think that proposing theories of humor detracts from what is funny. What science can tell us is the effects of humor on human beings. Laughter releases endorphins, the body’s “feel good” chemicals, and decreases cortisol, a stress hormone. Rapid breathing while laughing increases oxygen intake and improves cardiovascular function. It “serves as a form of communication, signaling safety, playfulness, and bonding among individuals” and “can help regulate emotions by reducing stress and tension.” Also, laughter is associated with “improved cognitive function, including enhanced creativity and problem-solving skills,” which means that Weird Al must be a genius. (I mean, Weird Al is a genius, but this proves it.)

So, what’s funny?

For some reason, there’s a category of stock photos known as “Women laughing alone with salad.” I have no idea why single women find salad funny or why there are so many of these photos, but it’s a real thing. (I think the fact that it’s a real thing is funny. But I digress yet again.)

One of my favorite types of humor is puns. Many people consider them the lowest form of wit, but they crack me up. I’ve been known to indulge in them, sometimes in pun contests and sometimes in real life.

Once, over breakfast, a friend remarked that her eggs Benedict were slow in coming. I said, “Maybe the kitchen staff had to go out and steal a hubcap to serve them on.”

“I know I’m going to regret asking, but why?” she asked.

“Because there’s no plate like chrome for the hollandaise.” She almost defenestrated me.

I also love improv comedy. I’m sorry that Whose Line Is It Anyway? isn’t around anymore. But at least some friends of mine have kept up the tradition with an improv group they call “Deep Fried Lemurs.” I’ve participated in it too, at least to the extent of providing setups for the “Scenes From a Hat” bit.

I also love literary humor. There are some great humor writers out there and some hysterical stories and books. For short stories and essays, I go for James Thurber and Erma Bombeck (both Ohio writers). And, if I may make recommendations for books (and I don’t see why I shouldn’t), Christopher Moore’s Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal, Jenny Lawson’s Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, and Douglas Adams’s The Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy are among my favorites.

Two kinds of humor I don’t care much for are slapstick and revenge comedy. I just never got the appeal of the Three Stooges and hated The War of the Roses. I do like some forms of physical comedy, though, such as the Ministry of Silly Walks sketch from Monty Python And pretty much anything else Monty Python except the Mr. Creosote bit.

So, what are your favorite jokes and puns (filthy or not)? Do you have any theories of what makes something funny? Recommendations for sources of humor? I’d love to hear them. (I could use the laughs right now.) Perhaps I’ll include them in a future blog post.

Review: Furiously Happy

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Buy this book!

Jenny Lawson, aka The Bloggess
Jenny Lawson, aka The Bloggess

Now I’ll tell you why.

First, despite what I wrote a previous post, Seven Reasons I Hate the Bloggess (http://wp.me/p4e9wS-56), I really respect and admire her and her writing.

Second, Furiously Happy is every bit as funny as Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, Lawson’s first book. It’s as raucous and uninhibited as her wildly popular blog.

Third, it’s something more.

Oh, there’s still plenty of weird taxidermy, ridiculous fights with her husband Victor, and even a bizarre travelogue of her trip to Australia. (She was not allowed to cuddle a koala, even when she dressed in a full-body koala suit, but consoled herself with the knowledge that koalas have chlamydia.)

But threaded through  her comic, idiosyncratic prose is a serious message about mental health: that we should speak up about it; acknowledge our struggles; and be determinedly, exuberantly, furiously happy when we can, in defiance of our illnesses.

Furiously Happy is a book for the millions of Americans – one in four – who struggle with mental illness, and for the millions more of their families, loved ones, and friends. It entertains and educates and defies the stigma that surrounds mental illness, without being preachy or mired in statistics.

Lawson has heard from people who have made it only as far as the parking lot of her signings because they too have severe anxiety disorders. Others have driven as much as five hours to attend one of her appearances. In her blog (thebloggess.com) and her new book, she lets people know that we are “alone together,” that even if we’re broken, we still have the capacity for magic.

At a recent book signing, Lawson was visibly nervous when she read two chapters aloud. One of these chapters was the one in which she and her mother discuss what is crazy and whether Jenny is. During the Q&A session at the signing, she took care to make the point that mental illness need not prevent people from being, as she says, furiously happy – if they keep on struggling, fighting, and trying, and especially if they have people around who understand and help.

After that she signed her book and anything else the audience brought until the entire group – which was quite large – was satisfied. No one was turned away from the signing line.

Lawson’s writing is not for everyone. Some people will be turned off by her use of profanity, and perhaps others may not appreciate the serious message that this second book contains. However, if you are looking for more rollicking, uninhibited, and unlikely (though largely true) stories, you will certainly find them here. But if that’s all you want, you may prefer to skip the serious chapters.

On the other hand, if you want to learn about mental illness with its attendant difficulties, and why it is so important to bring these topics out of the closet, as it were, then you may find the storytelling ridiculous, irreverent, or distracting. Personally, I enjoy the whole package, and it’s clear that many others do too.

Actually, the book hardly needs my endorsement. It’s been on the New York Times bestseller list for weeks now, and her book tour is drawing large and enthusiastic crowds. But I’ll recommend it anyway. You can start with her first book and find yourself drawn into the other. Or vice-versa.

You should also check out her blog, both for the content and the commenters, many of whom have found in Jenny an inspiration and in the other commenters a like-minded group of self-admitted weirdos, social outcasts, and yes, the mentally ill. That’s really been Lawson’s message all along. She just states it a little more directly in Furiously Happy.