As an ugly child who wasn’t a billionaire, I realized early on that I’d need to make myself likeable so other children would stop throwing things at me. I licked bird droppings on a dare. I sipped a cup of muddy water at recess. Thinking I’d look “tough,” I announced to the entire class that I didn’t wash my hands or brush my teeth. I developed a reputation for having parasites and ended up switching schools.
Fortunately, my father watched a lot of inappropriate stand-up comedy at home. I didn’t understand much of it, but somehow it became an antidote to the agony of elementary school politics. I remember watching my dad rolling on the floor, tears streaming from his eyes. In retrospect, I realize he was passing a kidney stone. But I decided to try out an Eddie Murphy joke at Christ is King First Baptist Academy. It landed me a visit to the principal’s office and a spot in detention. When my teacher made me repeat the joke to the principal, I noticed something: he laughed before he beat me with the crucifix. That’s when I knew I wanted to be Eddie Murphy.
Due to factors beyond my control, I never achieved my dream of becoming Eddie Murphy. Or being funny for that matter. But I did become a billionaire. And now people have to do whatever I say, because it's the law. Still, every now and again, I think about the value that laughter can bring to stressful situations and dark times. Things like funerals, criminal trials, job interviews, and gynecological examinations.
“Comedy is born of tragedy,” someone once said sometime I think. And in tragic times like these, there is also, simply, no better cure. Except for an actual cure. So for Christ's sakes hurry the hell up, you stupid scientists!
