I laughed out loud quite a few times yesterday.
Not at myself. Albeit, it happens frequently, when I am being my abnormally-responsive-self.
Yesterday, outside sources made me laugh.
I saw someone do something funny. They didn’t know anyone was watching, and they made a funny gesture. It was an attempt to keep something from falling. Despite their very demonstrative gestures, the object still fell. It was like their magic was broken, momentarily. And their hand waving and foot raising, had suddenly become disengaged. Their magic forces were, apparently, rendered useless. I only know this because of their reaction once the object finally fell to the ground. They seemed disgusted and upset.
Of course, then, I had to quickly move away in another direction. I had to put my “sly” on, so that the person wouldn’t notice that I’d witnessed the buffoonery. But what is probably funnier, is that someone may have been watching me, watching them. And laughed at my spy moves. That made me laugh too.
The laughs started earlier in the day. I had been reading an Op-Ed piece by a person who works at The Washington Post. The editorial had to do with “name calling and insults” — basically concerning the recent remarks from the President. Horse Face, and on. Her regard for the name calling was extremely funny. I don’t often laugh out loud when I read, but this piece had me in chuckles.
I like being in a State of Chuckles. In fact, that is a pretty good idea. Maybe we need a 51st state. And we will call it the State of Chuckles. The ten least densely populated states include North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming. Maybe we could map something there at an intersection. Anyways, we could dedicate the entire state to being funny. Clowns behind every shop counter. Funhouse mirrors in all the hotels. Standup Comics standing up everywhere. Banana splits for dessert, and the subsequent peels on every sidewalk.
The Slippery Elm would be the state tree. The flower would be the Sneezewort. The bird would be the Coot. Or the Dickcissel.
Yeah. People could go there for a week and just laugh their butts off. Funny movies would be running all the time at the Mega-Theatre. Not the doofy ones of today. But the old funny ones. Like. The Jerk. The Life of Brian. Young Frankenstein. Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Blazing Saddles.
We’d make Reba McIntire the Mayor of Town. Of course, she’d have to wear her Colonel Sanders outfit. I mean. What in the heck was Kentucky Fried Chicken thinking?
Along those lines, maybe we could get Officer Big Mac, from McDonald’s, to run the Jail. Hey, McDonald’s has a clown TOO! Maybe he could come and do something.
We’ll sell t-shirts and coozies. Keychains. And those magnets with people’s first names on them. Except we will put on lesser known first names, like Polly, and Leroy. Fabio, and Cecilia.
People who are Laughtose Intolerant would not be welcome.
The only injury we will treat at the hospital will be a broken Funny Bone.
Yes, the State of Chuckles.
Our slogan could be, “Visit Us. We’ll make you pee your pants.”
Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company. — Mark Twain
I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific. — Lily Tomlin
People tell me all the time. Don’t worry. You are pretty on the inside. Maybe they should eat some makeup so they can be pretty on the inside too. — Polly Kronenberger