Laughter, The Best Medicine

I know I’m sharking the title of today’s post from the Reader’s Digest of old but I like to think of it as a “tribute”.  That mag was the reading material of choice in any self-respecting Midwestern bathroom during my childhood.  It had a prominent place atop a 20 inch stack of The American Rifleman at my house.   Don’t get any misguided impressions that my dad was one of those survivalist wackos who thought the world would end on 1-1-01 or some such nonsense.  He was a competitive marksman who could sting our scrawny asses with an air rifle bb from 500 yards.   All us kids were really well-behaved.


As  a kid, I loved the Reader’s Digest joke sections and I devoured all of them; but NOT until I was done reading about some guy born in Alaska with only a head who went on to win the Iditarod, of course.  I had my priorities even as an 8 year old!  This resulted in copious amounts of time in the bathroom laughing my ass off (no pun intended) at Laughter, The Best Medicine  and Humor in Uniform.  This made me very unpopular with my siblings since we only had one bathroom for most of my young life and my older sisters loved to kick my ass at the slightest perceived provocation.  My little brother was the only one who didn’t care since he preferred to water the morning glories in the back yard in his own special way. Having cut my literary teeth on this stellar publication – and having my nose bloodied in the process – I adopted a look-for-funny-where-funny-might-not-exist outlook.  It has served me well.


So, the other day I’m surfing the Internet for laws governing the spreading of cremation ashes and I ran across a nicely written article by a freelance writer whose name escapes me.  It was entitled:  How to Dispose of Cremation Ashes!  (not sure why it needed an exclamation point).  On the sidebar of the article, there was a section called More by This Author.  Hmmm.  This author knows her stuff about cremation ashes, I wonder what else she’s written. Here’s what I found:  “How to Clean an Oven That’s Not Self-Cleaning”.   My oven is self-cleaning so I didn’t read it.  I’m sure it was good, though!


My abstract funny bone was wacked again today as I looked down at the mixed bag of liberal/conservative issues and candidates on my California voter’s ballot.  I suddenly felt like a board member of a company that makes contraceptives AND baby formula. 


And I laughed. 


And I was grateful.

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