When I was young I was super shy and kept to myself so much so that no one had any idea that I was actually someone worth talking to. Behind this quiet demeanor I often hid a gallows humor so dark that when it occasionally slipped I’d often leave my audience in stunned silence, far too shocked or nervous to laugh. And with each silence I spoke up less. But life was hard for me then and it’s hard for me now. I have been through the gamut, weathered storm after storm after storm, and came out still standing strong, this time wearing my noir funny bone like a badge of honor because without it I don’t think I would have lasted this long.
Recently I have been visiting a string of people I haven’t seen in many years, none of which were aware of what can only be seen as an alarming change in my demeanor. I went from an intensely polite, near mute, to someone who curses like a sailor and makes horrible jokes at every turn, laughing with the glee of a serial killer. Did I snap? No, I am just sharing what’s always been in my head.
One of these little gatherings included some gossip of someone who I did not know – an individual who had garnered a reputation for violence along with his thuggish girlfriend. That’s when news of the impending marriage came to my ears and I found myself blurting out, “What did he propose to her with? Diamond encrusted knuckle dusters?!” This was such a random outburst that I caught the speaker off guard, again. But as the evening progressed a sense of ease descended and I endeared myself further, regaling them with Wife Beater V. Baseball Bat.
Granted the above story is a joke about horrific violence, most days my jokes are far more about death, or health, or otherwise suffering. Why? Because these are the big issues I come across far more often than physical violence. Death has been a fairly consistent visitor since I was five years old and I have never been particularly uncomfortable with his presence. I joke at his expense not to dare him but to deal with the grief he spreads. It’s an intensely human thing to do.
But if I am to be honest, though I have always had a dark dry wit, it only became obscene with time and experience, not coincidentally around the time my health went from normal twelve year old to Why the Fuck Does My Body Act Like It’s 90?! I went to all sorts of doctors and hospitals and met with physicians and specialists. The drudgery of it all was so bad I started to just fuck with the routine which revolved around shuffling me into a new office, asking if I’d like my mother to leave, and asking if I was pregnant. That’s because every medical issue that could possibly give a young woman problems had to lead back to sex and babies, right? No. Not right. So I started to get creative with my answers.
“Is there any chance you may be pregnant?””Yes, and I’m naming it Jesus. It was immaculate. Unless that angel slipped me a roofie. Not sure how that works…”
“Have you had sex in the past nine months?”
“Does alien probing count?”
“Have you taken any drugs?”
“Only the ones hidden in my mashed potatoes.”
Because my mother was in the room I did not get shuffled off to the psych ward. I am not so sure this would have worked now but while it lasted it was glorious. Doctors had no idea how to deal with me much less diagnose me. I got charming little notes on my record like, “Patient displays flattened affect.” This could have been more accurately written out, “Patient is a teenager, doesn’t give a fuck about anything, and most certainly doesn’t want to be here – especially talking to you of all people.”
Humor is what made going through every exam, test, and process, even remotely bearable. Even now I take it with me into every doctor’s office as you can see in my story Pop! Goes the Speculum! I didn’t outgrow my need to make jokes, I just became cruder and more outspoken. There is nothing I won’t touch anymore, be it violence, sex, death, or any other taboo. Do you know what vampires call joggers? Fast Food. See, I thought that up while I should have been sleeping one night.
Of course whenever you touch on taboo subjects you will offend people from every walk of life. I have found the thing these people often have in common is the fact they live in a bubble away from bad things. They don’t understand that cracking jokes is actually a psychologically fulfilling way to deal with all sorts of traumas. That’s why if you run in my social circle you need to have a deep and twisted sense of sarcasm to keep up. Embrace it! Don’t apologize! And with that I leave you with this little gem to watch and be either horrifically offended or just laugh yourself into tears.