With the acumen always engendered by fine beer, Don and I were
discussing the difficulty of writing with humor. In this age of
political correctness and hyper criticalness, to attempt to write
humor is to enter a pit of writhing vipers seeking a succulent target.
To attempt to write subtle humor is to add alligators waiting for a
body to eviscerate.
There are two safe ways to accomplish the basic humor challenge,
although subtle humor is near impossible. The first is to be so
outrageous, so over-the-top, that no one above third-grade level could
possibly think the writer is maliciously serious. Tvo and I did this
complicitly for years.
The other way is to write only for the amusement of one’s close
friends, as reckoned by relationships that have long survived vigorous
repartee-caused gasps of shock. I have the irrepressible need to do
this.
Close friends know me for the sweet and sometimes silly soul that I
am. They know that the only time my insult is serious is when I write
about leaders who shame themselves by their actions, who claim to
esteem the masses while serving themselves and their friends.
We are all responsible for what comes out our mouths and off our
fingers. If a reader were to express insult, I would apologize—and
that would likely be the end of their readership. If a friend was
outraged, I would congratulate him on his sensitivity, then question
his self-esteem, then expect defensiveness, then expect the
possibility of several years before reconciliation.
But if a wife were to express consternation, the writer would open a
bottle of good wine, command soothing music, and speak gentle and
loving compliments and suggestions.
Is that too subtle?
[Homestead] On writing to amuse,
Gene GeRue, 07/20/2008