I’ve always wanted to be funny. Even before I ever understood why some people were funny, I always greatly admired anyone who could make people laugh. These were people that folks gravitated towards, and demanded the best kind of attention. I longed for that kind of attention.
Robin Williams was somebody I was fascinated with when I was a youth. Here was this man who was so wonderfully odd, so manic, and so much different than other adults. I was so impressed with this guy who made a fool of himself and was allowed to be on TV because of it. It was difficult for me to translate his craft of obnoxiousness into my own life. I just came across as… well obnoxious.
I always wanted to tell a good joke. There were kids in my class who always had good jokes to tell. Many of them were just plain vile, or at least as vile as we understood them at the time. Others were just clever word plays, or punchlines. I suffered from a mix of attention deficit and just plain being dense, so I could never commit these jokes to memory. If I did manage to latch on to a joke or two, I imagine they were butchered beyond the intended humor.
A better comedic outlet for me became puppet shows that I would perform for anyone patient enough to allow me to do it. My family was a huge fan of the Muppet Show. It was one of the few shows we would sit down and equally enjoy. Not enough people really appreciate the genius that is Jim Henson, and how his show simple enough for children to love yet sophisticated enough for adults to embrace. My puppet shows weren’t as well crafted. They had no scripts, no real direction, and very little story. Just a lot of blather until one puppet hit another, and that would trigger the laughter I so desired. This really became my “thing” while in grade school, and outside of my other artistic endeavors, it was one of the few things I was recognized for.
As much as I wanted to throw out the zingers, I could never actually take them myself. I was so very sensitive to people picking on me. This is what led to one of my greatest embarrassments. Our Cub Scout Pack was going to have a Gong Show event. The group of us kids would get up there with our respective talents and be judged by a panel of notable nobodies. “You’re probably going to do a stupid puppet show aren’t you Ireland” taunted one of my fellow Weeblos. I had to of course counter back with the standard defense, “NO.” Truth be told, I really would have rather done a puppet show, but I felt I could do my own thing. I was going to get up in front of these people and do my own act. It would be hilarious. I had this great idea that I would call some notable nobody up from the audience and I would prod them with various questions. Based on their response I would make some sort of sarcastic remark and let the hilarity pour forth. I might even hold up a sign to the side with some sarcastic remark like Bugs Bunny would do when fooling with Elmer Fudd. It was a fantastic idea. So right before I am to go on, I try to explain to the Emcee this high concept that I’m about to do. “So you’re trying to be a Comedian?” he asks. Yes. Yes indeed. I like that. I was going to be a Comedian. I was announced as such, and I went out in front of an auditorium full of families. I asked the Scoutmaster to come forward as my first victim. Our dialogue over the next few minutes included the annoying back and forth Hello, Hello, Hello (always a grade school crowd-pleaser), my trying to make a joke out of the fact that he was a carpenter (Do you lay carpets? Clever), and of course my sign (probably too small for anyone to read). Needless to sang the gong rang after that. Out of 10 or 12 acts, I was the only one that got gonged.
I would say that was the first time I really understood embarrassment. I felt that since my heart was into it, that I could just be naturally funny. I remember my father dispensing wisdom on the subject. He went on about how even the best comedians like Jack Parr (Who?) would have been better prepared with material. I remember asking my Mom sincerely if I could stay home the next day. She said “no.”
Oddly enough, I didn’t let it get it to me for too many years. After getting a ventriloquist dummy one Christmas, I entered myself into a talent show. This time I prepared myself with collected material. I fashioned a darn good little act, and performed it for the whole school. The following is my best joke from the act:
Dummy: I think I see my teacher out there
Me: Really? Where is she?
Dummy: You see that really pretty woman in the back row with the blue eyes, blond hair, and beautiful smile?
Me: Yeah! Wow, is that your teacher?
Dummy: NO – it’s the ugly woman sitting next to her.
It took minutes for the crowd to calm down. Minutes. It made me feel funny… in a good way of course.
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