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That Joke Isn�t Funny Anymore

This weekend I told a joke and was forced, for THE FIRST TIME NEARLY EVER, to grapple with an �I don�t get it� response. Apparently, it is my wont to rudely ogle my jokee and imply full blame via the repetition of, �What do you mean? How can you not get it,� until they feel horribly, horribly stupid. But first they try to get all indignant like some shortcoming in my joke-telling skills has prevented them from getting it. As if.

Is that post-holiday blues I feel or just the unhappy pulsing of my engorged liver? Over the last several days I have done entirely too much of the following:

- Riding my bike aimlessly around city streets, no destination, no whither to my whether;

- Drinking;

- Drinking and saying stupid things;

- Driving my car aimlessly around city streets (while sober, kids); smoking; listening to the latest Her Space Holiday album (hiccup�boy, is it sad and pretty�);

- Smoking;

- Planning aimlessly. It is harder than you might think to construct your future around no real compunction to do one thing more than another.

I don�t get it. Stop looking at me like that.


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