Baby, I Was Born to Pun

I’m a humorist. But it’s not my fault. It wasn’t a choice. I was born that way.

People have exhorted me for years to tell my story. “You oughta write about it,” they said. “You oughta publish your biography.” So here it is: a brief oughta-biography of my life as a humoro-textual. Let me say up front that at this point—through the gifts of energy, enthusiasm, and stamina—I have laughed with literally hundreds of women. (Men, too, but that’s a subject for another essay.) I have been a virtual Casanova of comedy. But how did I get here?

As incredible as it sounds, my parents recognized my inclination and “talent” from the moment I was born. According to family stories, my mother’s first words after she took me in her arms were “He smells funny.” So you can see that even from the very beginning I was developing my scents of humor.

Later in life, even complete strangers could tell what I was. When I was very young and my family traveled from our home in Georgia to upstate New York, the neighborhood kids noticed my humor expertise right away. “You talk funny,” they all said.

While it’s a living hell for some, I think I may have actually peaked in high school. It was a time of almost constant reinforcement of my sense of comic self. Teachers repeatedly reassured me, “You have a very funny effect on everyone around you.” And from my classmates, the compliments just kept rolling in: “You dress funny. You dance funny. You even look funny.” My school counselor also jumped on the bandwagon. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to have a highly educated professional unreservedly praising me—before I’d had any formal training even—as “absolutely hysterical.” He also encouraged me to hire an agent to help advance me in the career I was clearly destined for by persistently urging me to “get help.” I was so grateful for this support.

As a young man, I took my secret superpower into the bar scene, where I exploited it—perhaps unfairly—in flirtations with women. I dazzled them with my wit: “If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?” Many of these young ladies were so tickled that they actually enunciated the words “Ha, Ha,” and most indicated their appreciation of my originality. “I’ve never heard that one before,” they admitted. Some—quite a few actually—would pay me compliments that I treasure to this day. Often something along the lines of “You’re a regular laugh riot, aren’t you?” I was impressed they could tell so much about me from just my opening line.

With all this lifelong encouragement to a career in comedy, it’s no wonder I became a humor writer. I’d like to express my gratitude for the kind, heartening praise I received from several editors, who convinced me, despite my doubts, that my writing was indeed “laughable.” Special thanks to you, Donna Cavanagh.

Some people have a head for business. I have a head for making people laugh little laughs. Thanks to all of you who have acknowledged this. The coveted epithet you bestowed on me is my favorite compliment. Because of you, I realize that perhaps—just perhaps—I’ve earned your oft-repeated description of me as “chuckle-headed.”

I had to work hard for every giggle in my earlier days, so please forgive me if I enjoy the ease of my profession now. Now that I’m in my late 50’s, most days I even feel funny. It’s very gratifying and pleasurable to rest on one’s laurels. I thank my lucky stars that I’ve reached a zenith where all I have to do now is say to anyone who knows me, “I’m a humorist,” and they laugh.

They laugh their heads off.

(For more of my tomfoolery click HERE.)