I’ve spent the last 49 years cultivating a wit so sharp that onions cry when I cut them. Ninja’s use my wit to sharpen their blades. Comedians wear ski masks and avoid detection from my brain’s security system just to steal jokes from me. I feel like Usain Bolt slowing down for a turtle when I’m waiting for someone to keep up with my witty banter.
My sarcasm is so thick that pea soup drinks it with a fork and knife. I spend countless nights keeping sheep awake, hours wearing out the treadmills running inside my mind, just so I can pour my comedy genius onto the pages of this blog. I do it as a service to the world (mostly because no one pays me for it), but mostly for me, because this brain contains so much comedy, if I don’t let some of it out, my brain will explode with laughter. Unfortunately, I have to hold so much more humor back, because if I unleashed all of it onto the world, no one would have time to do anything but laugh all the time.
Imagine the rage I feel every time I complete a bi-weekly magnum opus, and I venture out on WordPress Reader under the humor category, looking for something that could even turn the side of my mouth up even slightly. My stomach drops in horror as I try in vain to find something that’s worthy of occupying the basement of my Humor Tower, a virtual skyscraper in Nakatomi Plaza. I’m here on the 131st floor perusing resumes to find anyone that could work in my building and all I can find are blog after reblog of memes.
My search continues to a land called Tik Tok. where I search with a magnifying glass for a morsel of comedy. All I can find there is people lip syncing movie monologues and trying to relate them to their dating or family life. I would slap my forehead in embarrassment at the sad state of humorless memes, and poorly executed skits on Tik Tok, but someone would film my face palm and it would go viral, just because it’s actually funnier than they could think of.
After an exhausting day of scouring the internet to find a morsel of humor, side from my blog, I trek home full of hope that my kids might have inherited a sliver of my sense of humor. They look at me with their adorable, yet blank stares with anticipation that one of the “funny” memes they sent me through Tik Tok or Instagram Reels will please me. I give them a courtesy laugh and walk quickly out of the room so I can cringe in peace and die slowly inside. I spare them from the truth that neither they nor the rest of humanity is funny at all. Someday when they are old enough, I will tell them the truth, but for now, I can’t crush their dreams, because parents are supposed to protect their kids from the harsh reality that they aren’t funny. Plus, I hate to hear kids cry.
I pat them on the head patronizingly and let them go on believing that they are funny. Their lack of humor doesn’t come from me, but from the stupid peers and their dumb generations, the Millennials and the Gen Z’s. Gen Z’s and Millennials have this ability to find laziness about everything they do. They want AI to make art and write for them, they want their parents to provide housing for them, and they to be influencers so they can play video games and people just pay them money for watching them do it. The worst part is their sense of humor. All they do is reblog, remix and reshare every funny thing they see. When I stop creating funny things on my blog or elsewhere, they will just share the same joke to each other in a perpetual loop.
As the lazy expression goes, “It’s lonely at the top.” I finally know what they mean. I’m here at the executive suite of Humor Tower in Nakatomi Plaza, staring out of the bleak landscape of humor and I can’t help but be bitter. I’m here in my Ivory Tower, scanning the horizon for any hope of humor anywhere and it just looks like a dystopian world where everything cold and black and people are just pretending to laugh. It’s like they are searching for anything original to give them any hope, but they’ve all been instructed by the Humorless not to look up or visit the Humor Tower, because if they do, they will be beaten.
The Humorless are stuck watching Hallmark’s “Romantic Comedies” that are neither romantic nor comedy. They are trapped in their homes, watching Adam Sandler make weird noises, Jim Carrey making faces and recycling superhero jokes. A few make it out, escape their Humorless lives and unplug from the Matrix of Memes. If they are lucky, they will someday follow the beacons toward The Zion of Bitter Blogging.
Will you take the Red Pill or the Blue Pill?
Bitter Man’s Search for Comedy Ben