Lesson One

"And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh. "

Friedrich Nietzsche 

One of the most important lessons I've learned so far is not take myself so seriously that I couldn't cackle at myself like a cartoon witch. Having a child has just reinforced that even more. How else can you dance around like a drunken shaved baboon in a Tijuana Bachelor's party in the the mere donkey-hair's chance of getting that crazy little giggle out your spawn of your loins?

How else can you get up and go to work after having a long night that made you feel like you were drug through a knothole by the hair on your backside? How else could you live with a backside hairy enough to do that in the first place? Hmm...anyway, you get the drift.

It's one of the many love-hate moments I have when I remember my late teens and early twenties. First it was philosophy, then it was Goth. Lots of parallels there, I'll quickly elaborate.

Philosophy... big ideas being re-examined by new generations of dead people

Being “goth”...people who dress like they are dead but try to use big words

Hey, before someone starts slinging some black eyeliner in retribution, keep mind of I've carried the goth club card for almost 15 years now, so I do know something about it. The caricatures are there for a reason, but it doesn't mean I can't poke fun at what I've experienced. Nor should I stop unless it becomes genuine hurtful and then I'm just being an a**hole that needs to quit it.

Even when things do get really grim a well placed laugh can do wonders and give you a minute to regather yourself before you trudge on in whatever battlefield you find yourself in. I've heard some rocking jokes from Hospice patients. Crass, disgusting, and unapologetic joke, yes. Funny as hell? You betcha.