It was May, 2001, and my mother was critically ill. Her hemoglobin had dropped to 4, I wrote in my journal. She kissed my dad goodbye and said she wasn't going to make it… at last word [her stats] were improving some. On the other hand, as my dad said, giving her blood is like putting oil in a car with an oil leak - and not being able to find or fix the leak.

My nerves were frayed, to put it mildly. Later, in the wee hours of the next morning, I wrote: There is a TARANTULA on my back porch! I was sitting out there reading - in my bare feet - and saw it hop up to the doormat. I thought it was a TOAD, and leaned in for a closer look. [S]haking, I grabbed a can of bug spray - and tried to beat it senseless. (Well, duhhhh - it's FLYING INSECT SPRAY, and useless against spiders!) That's breaking the rules, of course - the rules being that if a spider is outdoors, where it belongs, I normally leave it alone. I have some sense of fair play. But a spider as big as my hand violates some unwritten rule, somewhere, surely...

Oh, but it gets better. Just one week later, we were about to leave for a much-needed vacation in California and I came home to find my father-in-law face down on the dining room floor. He was fine, as it turned out; he had an upper respiratory infection and was too weak to stand up without help. He’s all better now. But at the time - let’s just say my mind had had about all it could handle. …if you doubt I'm on the edge now, I wrote, you should've heard the B-grade horror movie scream I let out last night… I was looking for a shoe, pulled the curtain back, and mistook [what I saw] for a (possibly live, possibly poisonous) SNAKE!! What was the name of the woman who made her fame and glory as "the screamer" for all those awful late-night horror movies? I had her all beat to hell, I swear! (I am NOT normally a screamer, truly I'm not. If I saw a mouse in the kitchen, I'd probably jump up and sit on the counter until I figured out how to trap and release it, or kill it, but I wouldn't SCREAM. [T]he only thing that rates this kind of screaming is a fully grown rattlesnake coiled up in a box held by your own child and shakin' his tail in the middle of your living room - certainly NOT a scrawny, dried-up, most-definitely-dead earthworm stretched out on the windowsill. Scared Katie witless, but J.J. wisely ignored me and went on making travel plan changes...

In tragedy, the hero begins in a state of harmony with the world and those around him; as the drama progresses, he falls into a state of chaos and unhappiness. In comedy, the opposite is generally true: the hero begins in a state of chaos, thrown into improbable scenarios and heaped with exaggerated troubles - all likely to be resolved in a happy ending.

The purpose of comedy is simply to entertain the audience and make people laugh; its appeal is that it often goes a step further and lifts us out of our own sorrows, if only for a moment. So, is it any wonder that “black humor” (also known as “gallows humor” or “morbid humor”) has emerged as a subgenre of comedy?

Classic examples of black humor can be found in cemeteries everywhere. My mother’s favorite epitaph was “I told you I was sick!” Another classic is carved onto the tombstone of Lester Moore, a Wells-Fargo Co. station agent for Naco, Arizona in the cowboy days of the 1880's. He's buried in the Boot Hill Cemetery in Tombstone, Arizona:

Here lies Lester Moore
Four slugs from a .44
No Les No More.
(from “Funny Epitaphs,” Jo’s Front Porch. Jo Autrey [http://www.usroots.com/~jautrey/genealogy/genpoems/epitaphs.htm; last accessed on May 8, 2006]

Stressed out over the thought of global nuclear annihilation? Thumb your nose at it. Laugh. If the very thought of making fun of such terrible, horrific topics turns your stomach, then maybe black humor’s not for you - but, back in 1959, Tom Lehrer relieved some of the stress (while making some sobering observations on the futility of nuclear war) with this little ditty:

Lobelia is truly blessed writes, Rarely does a contest fit the comedy genre, unless it is specifically a comedy contest. But this one isn't! It's funny in its own right- so even if you aren't looking to enter, you need to read this contest write-up for some chuckles. Oh, and send the poor guy some GP's!

LoVe ThEm DoGs! writes, I don't know how you do it, but every single one of your Comedy newsletter brings light and humor to my life! Thanks!

Murphy. Is. Back. writes:

scribbler writes:

I can’t tell you what a relief it was to read the feedback and find out I hadn’t made a colossal fool of myself with that song. And to get an “expert opinion” is even better! I found Adam and Andrew at http://www.myspace.com/adamandandrew. Oh, they nailed it, didn’t they? I like “Rap Sucks,” too. (Warning: Adam and Andrew’s lyrics are explicit. Funny, but not for everyone.)

Tammy~Catchin Up~ writes:

My kids used to listen to My Humps all the time....My Books fit nicely, I was singing it!! I think I like your version better!!
Great newsletter

Bet that made it hard to take communion!

Theday writes: