I'm sitting here, looking at my cheat sheet of funny story material and none of it seems funny to me. A week ago half of these topics would have made me laugh out loud just thinking about them, but this week I just can't find the funny. It's like my imagination is broken or something.
Don't get me wrong, I don't have writer's block. I think writer's block is about as real as Santa Claus. Either you can write or you can't. If you can, it doesn't turn off. There's no handle on the creative faucet. I can write, I just don't find anything funny right now. I could go on all day about serious stuff right now, but the funny just isn't coming.
So one night a rabbi, a lawyer and a camel walk into a bar...
See? Imaginative, yes. Funny, no.
Off-topic: Last night I was talking to Dan of "Even the Fish Couldn't Stand the Smell" fame. He went fishing last week and he was reminiscing about our famous fishing trip together. He's a very big man now (he works in construction) and he told me how he was the biggest guy in the boat. This brought back memories of my dad in the boat, sitting near the outboard, the back end of the boat dangerously low in the water, the bow sticking up into the air.
I remember one morning when I'd refused to go out with Dan, James and my Dad in the boat because it was going to rain something fierce. They were mighty hunters who didn't fear a little rain. They went anyway. So of course, as soon as they were as far away from shore as they could get without leaving the Province, a monsoon started. I waited and watched. Soon their little boat appeared. My dad sat in his position at the back, the back end mere inches above the waterline. James and Dan sat miserably in the middle, bailing for dear life. The boat looked like a bathtub. The rain pounded down on them mercilessly. I stood, dry and warm in the cabin doorway and laughed at them the entire time.
I guess that day, the funny was there.
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