Funny People, Funny Dogs

There are funny people in this world. There are people who make things funny, too. I get a kick out of a cartoonist who does what he calls Scribbles. When I understand them, his scribbles make me laugh out loud.

I like reading well-written interesting opinions, though I avoid the Rush's. I look forward to reading Rick Casey's articles, but I don't trust him. He makes me nervous. He doesn't hold back much, which is of course one of the reasons I like him.

I like family -- well most family. I guess we all have that one or two we really wish had been adopted OUT before we were introduced.

Friends are folks to cherish and I do. Some from so long ago I'd rather not say, and some almost brand new. They are the next best thing to family. They identify us, our feelings, our intolerances and show us our own reflection.

I don't like mean-spirited people. I don't understand them, either. I do not get it -- that power trip investment return for making other people miserable. Where's the challenge in it, anyway? Shoot, I can make my dog miserable. Doesn't take a bit of talent. But, I haven't been able to make her laugh.

I have a kid. He's grown. He has a dog of his own, now. His dog grins. No! I mean-- he grins. He, the dog, rolls his fat lips back, tilts his head, brandishes every tooth in his head and flat out laughs in your face. Sometimes the kid does that, too.

Ever met a person without personality? What a bore. Luckily, I don't think God made too many. I suppose they were test models and some how survived the discard pile. What's really bad is when Mr./Ms. PersonalityIsLacking was dealt a generous heaping of brains. It no longer fits to say: You stupid bore! Because the bore isn't stupid. The next higher B-O-R-E category is Extreme, which is everything rolled into one mega-bore: reject, intelligent, narcissist. Excuse me, who did you say?

We all have a bout with resentment, jealousy or the like-- at least I think we all do. But, what really gets me is this. I spent my entire childhood in this iddy biddy town, well originally it wasn't a town but we fed it a lot of milk and it grew into a small township. So, anyway-- I paid my dues there and everyday I woke up thinking of at least a zillion ways to escape. But, get this. Along came this guy some folks think is pretty funny who lived about a year in that, by then, well-nourished metropolitan area totaling 3,000 and then capitalized on it like he was entitled to do so. He's making a fortunate pretending to be the new and improved Dean Martin -- from Fritch, Texas. You go, Ron! Just mail me and my bros our % for paying your dues for you.

Regardless, by the end of the day I slowly shake my head side-to-side and think how fortunate I am to have family and friends twisted just enough to keep me out of a rut.

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2006