Tag Archives: Senses Of Humor

The Luckiest Unluckiest Day Ever

It wasn’t until later that I realized he was born on Friday the 13th.

Unluckiest of unlucky days in Western culture, Friday the 13th is a triskaidekaphobics worst nightmare. It rarely comes about, but when it does, it’s usually wielding a machete and wearing a hockey goalie mask.

But not this month. On June 13, Casa de Dude celebrates! We kick up our heels and dance and sing (although not as much these days for reasons that should become apparent in only a few moments) and just generally enjoy life because June 13, this year falling on a Friday, is the day our family became complete.

Friday the 13th of June is Hyper Lad’s birthday. This is the year he’s turning 15, which means he’s already got his grubby little paws held out and ready to take the car keys and go for a little spin. The fact that he has no learner’s permit because his driver education teacher still hasn’t gotten around to him yet. . . Well, that means little.

He’s fifteen. He’s ready to drive. At least in his mind.

I say our family became complete because Hyper Lad is the youngest of our three young dudes. He’s six years younger than our oldest and five years younger than our middle son. In fact, we weren’t supposed to have Hyper Lad at all.

My wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Getting Her Way, and I thought we were finished procreating (although not practicing) after Zippy the Travelin’ Boy. Eventually, though, she began to yearn for another female in the house. Once she said that, it became apparent that I really needed a daughter as well since I look darn good on the dance floor wearing a tux at a wedding.

Instead, we got lucky and didn’t get our wish. Instead of a girl, we got a Hyper Lad and we couldn’t be happier.

Our oldest son, Sarcasmo, had to suffer through first-child paranoia as his mom and I freaked out about anything and everything related to our darling. Our middle son, Zippy the Travelin’ Boy, stayed sheltered in the harbor of our good graces and had vigilant parents every on guard. Relaxed, but on guard.

By the time Hyper Lad came along, we were pretty much okay with him doing just about anything short of juggling the razor-sharp blades we kept in the open, unlocked drawers in the kitchen. And even that, provided he had a good reason for it.

Having older brothers, Hyper Lad has benefited from being around (slightly) more mature age cohorts for most of his life. He’s probably more emotionally mature at 15 than his brothers were when they were his age.

Since he was smaller than everyone around whom he wanted to hang, he had to develop a quick left and an even quicker wit to survive. And he has.

His teachers see the same things that we do: one of the sharpest minds, with one of the most wicked senses of humor to have come around in a long while. He’ll frequently make an offhand joke about current affairs we happen to be discussing that’s amazingly quick, amazingly on-target and blisteringly funny.

His mom and I will just turn and look at each other — once the laughter finally dies down — and trade astonished gazes.

While Hyper Lad lives up to his name (and his blog name here), he’s not constantly rushing around and ignoring everyone else. The young dude is consistently polite (to non-dad people) in almost every situation and looks for ways to help everyone he can.

Not to say he’s perfect, of course. I mean, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve come thiiiiiiisssssss close to popping an aneurysm in my brain from the crap he will drop — literally drop — wherever it is he happens to be done with it. If that means he’s finished with a band-aid wrapper six inches from a trashcan. . . Then he drops the wrapper to the floor six inches from the trashcan.

And, being a teenager, he’s now discovered the joys of sleeping in until the sun warms up. . . say, sometime around 3 pm.

So, yeah, he’s got a lot of things to work on. But, here’s the deal about that: We’re just so glad we get a chance to watch as he does. It’s going to be an interesting experience.

Here’s to you, Hyper Lad! Have a happy birthday and know we love you. And we dearly want to live through you learning to drive, so please work on that.


We also take a moment to remember Hyper Lad’s Great Grandmother, my Grandmother, Irene Jones. A wonderful woman, my grandmother died three years ago. She and Hyper Lad were both born on June 13 and called each other Birthday Buddies. So here’s to you as well, Mama. You’re missed and loved.

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Pinin’ For The Fjords

by Richard

I think it’s a bit odd that a group like Monty Python, which so revered the unexpected, the unusual, and the iconoclastic, would be one that would inspire millions of teenage dudes to quote, verbatim, from their many, many hilarious sketches. And, yes, there are more than a few non-teenaged dudes who are doing a lot of quoting as well. *blushes and looks down at his toe, which is slowly digging circles in the dirt*

Ahem. So. Anyway. Where was I?

Right. Imitation. Tribute. Originality. As little dudes, as we all should remember, our sense of humor basically ran to things like saying “Fart,” or “Poopy,” then giggling like crazy and running away. Good times. Good times.

As we got a little older, our senses of humor grew slightly, and let me emphasize slightly here, more sophisticated. We could tell knock-knock jokes that actually made sense and even, sometimes, tell actual jokes.

Even then, though, we were imitating our parents and what they thought was funny. For a while there, most little dudes and dudettes were basically humorous clones, barking out confused retellings of jokes we’d heard from dad or mom. That’s imitation. That’s also where the whole verbatim quoting of Monty Python begins.

We all grew up. Physically at least. And, as we grew, our sense of humor changed and morphed to match our emerging personality. In my own case, I started reading gross joke books and regaling my contemporaries with truly appalling dead baby jokes. And, no, you’re not getting any sort of sample here. Browse the internet. That’s what it’s for. But I also told jokes that resembled, in spirit, what my dad and mom were telling. I saw the same things as funny that they did. I just approached it in a different way. That was tribute.

Then we got to the final stage of humor growth: Originality. That’s where I started telling jokes and making observations and doing accents all on my own. Now, I’m not saying anyone else actually found it funny, but I amused myself and that’s good enough. It’s still good enough as evidenced by the fact that I’ll frequently make a joke that’s hilarious, but depends on knowing some trivial, obscure fact about carrot cultivation, and find the little dudes and my wife, known to me as She Who Does Have A Sense Of Humor No Matter What Everybody Else Says, just staring at me with blank, non-laughing faces. Sigh.

So. The growth of humor. And, after all that, here’s Monty Python’s dead parrot sketch. Which I still imitate constantly and manage to work into the odd conversation.

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