Dark Humor

https://nanmykel.com/2017/01/19/repeating-line/

(Now see, that’s my computer talking back to me.  I DID NOT TYPE THAT LINE!)

I’m going to start over with MY CURRENT WORDS! — 11/27/2017

I’ve been told I have a warped [unkind?] sense of humor.  Because my daughters didn’t report on how my ex’s memorial service went, I decided it was so horrible they didn’t want me to know, to “protect” me. So I sat down and to prove I COULD take any kind of bad news, I gave an example of what might have happened and that I wasn’t wiped out by it.  I wrote an e-mail that said,

“Let’s see what happened:  Seven Quakers showed up. Bob came and stood up and told his father off for everything bad and then walked out. Ann left in tears. Jill and Alice stayed. The widow Beth and two of her relatives attended. You never told Polly Evarts about the service but she found out and was there. She tried to be supportive to Jill  but Jill was too shy and crying too much to talk to her. Bob snarled when he spoke to you and his plane came and returned to Cinn. 8 hours later. He stayed in a motel. He would not allow my name to be mentioned, or if one tried he said “La la l a la.” There was a “wake” consisting of iced tea and brownies.  Beth brought my ex’s  favorite pet and tried to get someone to adopt him. My daughters went home and decided it would upset me too much to know the truth so they put off reporting on the service, trying to distract me with thoughts of Molly’s birthday.  End of story except when I had two weekends of “intestinal upset” I am still working on cleaning up.

See? I don’t need a report on things. I can work it out all by myself. Probably fairly accurate.
Love anyway,
Nan”

_________________

That earned me a phone call reaming me out (what I had left in me) and telling me what a disgusting, destructive, horrible, inappropriate e-mail that was, why did I do it, and not to go writing letters to ANYONE (assuming my mind had suddenly either failed or been posessed by the devil).  I was chastened but then the more I thought about it the less ashamed I felt. By now I’m into thinking it’s funny again.  (Names were fictitious only in this posting).

_________________

Some time ago I re-published someone’s dark joke on my RELIEF/REFRESHING page:

After stopping for drinks at an illegal bar, a Zimbabwean bus driver found that the 20 mental patients he was supposed to be transporting from Harare to Bulawayo had escaped.  Not wanting to admit his incompetence, the driver went to a nearby bus stop and offered everyone waiting there a free ride. He then delivered the passengers to the mental hospital, telling the staff that the patients were very excitable and prone to bizarre fantasies. The deception wasn’t discovered for 3 days.  (From the 2004 Darwin  Awards?)

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Making fun of OLD AGE is something many of us don’t approve of but do it anyway (at times).  Last week I got a “Happy Thanksgiving” e-mail and I thought sorrowfully that my friend’s mind was going, that she didn’t know Thanksgiving was a week away?  Then I  took my garbage out and saw the entire parking lot for my condo was empty, and there was no traffic on the roads. (Really, I had gone out to also put a letter in the mail box). Since I didn’t have anything to eat in my condo but out of date cans, I called Bob Evans to order a take-out of their beef vegetable soup. No deal, only Thanksgiving specials. So I grabbed my purse and a book to read and headed out to Wendy’s. As son as I clicked he door behind me I realized I had left my keys inside. I had no cell phone with me, I had not dressed warmly enough, there was no one in the building, even my car key was inside the condo. Boy did I feel cold and sorry for myself. Then it occurred to me that I had never used my small 4×8 patio’s door and it was worth a try so voila, I gave thanks to my guardian angel. Then Wendy’s was closed, as was McDonald’s (can you believe it? I couldn’t). So I ended up savoring what Speedway had to offer for Thanksgiving dinner. But I couldn’t read  my book, so I brought my bag of holiday cheer home and finished my book at home. Home for the holiday.

_________________

Speaking of death (I know we weren’t), there’s the old story  that goes like this:

An Old One:

There was a great loss today in the entertainment world. The man who wrote the song “Hokey Pokey” died. What was really horrible was that they had trouble keeping the body in the casket. They put his left leg in…Well, you know he rest.

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
This entry was posted in A mixed bag, age, Dark humor, Death, Thanksgiving dinner and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Dark Humor

  1. grumpygorman says:

    Yeah, I heard he got all turned around..

    Like

  2. joey says:

    I’m surprised the restaurants weren’t open. I really am. Seems everything is open all the time these days. Sad as I am that you didn’t have a cozy seat to read your book, I’m glad you got in through the patio.
    I LOVED the story of what probably happened. I could write a TON of those. It was a delightful read, Nan.

    Like

  3. Nan Mykel says:

    Thanks, that helps!

    Like

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