A Humorists Lament
The realization that humor is dying a slow death by starvation
Not for hunger of good jokes, good banter, or quality repartee…
But malnourished of the IQ with which to digest it all
Resisting the urge to scream at people who need cliff notes for knock-knock jokes…
The self control required to not act on the impulse to slap the stupid….
Restraining myself… maintaining my composure
The number of calories that self control should burn…
My daily workout should keep me trim and fit
Throwing words and phrases about like heavy weights..
And for others I provide a tremendous workout it seems
Causing them to open dictionary and thesaurus…
Crank up those rusty literacy skills kids….
To decipher the insulting arrow slung from my bow
I’ll try so very hard to keep them to < three syllables
Knowing rare few will find them laughable
The target more often than not throwing down books
Preferring to cary the chip on their shoulder instead
However you get your workout is of little consequence to me
So long as I could help you along in your lessons
From which you learn so very little yet complain so very loudly,….
Telling me that I have a sense of humor that most do not get
And I taste my own blood not saying to you
Only the stupid,… only the stupid
How we’ve exchanged humor for hyper-sensitivity
No longer able to laugh we instead scream
Cry fowl, thump chests, parrot talking points
what passes for humor among adults was once considered childish
Now the children laugh at us
Having a brain in a world which values it so little
Might as well of given a Porsche 911 to a 12 year old Amish child
And marvel at his profound sadness not being able to drive