Listen Guys: Most people do not like funny people. Not really. The reasons are brutally straightforward. One-half of the male population dwell south of the Stanford -Binet line and are thus consumed with why shit keeps happening to them and if they’re going to be blamed for it. They are the reason for Carrot Top, Gallagher, and Will Ferrell With rare exceptions women are not funny and believe anyone who tells jokes is overcompensating for character flaws and have deep-seated emotional pathologies. Beautiful women loathe funny people, most particularly of their own gender, simply because they’re serious rivals for the spotlight. Men with above average intelligence and ambition often like hanging around with funny guys, particularly when it’s time to get high and look for women. If, however, it’s about money, war, divorce or cancer –and that’s pretty much all there is after 30 –they have less and less time for funny friends.
It’s a safe bet anyone who comes up the Best Joke of The Year lives alone and will die alone. But even if somehow he is universally celebrated for his comic gifts, the ugly truth is no one will remember any of his jokes for the simple reason that he was likely the only one in the group who could remember jokes and that’s the main reason why he was considered the funny guy. So when he dies he will be forgotten as soon as the last punch line fades from memory–about two seconds after they scatter the ashes.
Here’s the thing: if our actuaries are correct you are not going to live another 100 years. But the No Girls Allowed Writers Club definitely will be around and we have access to an unlimited supply of hamsters. Not just raggedy ass wheel spinners either, but thoroughbreds equipped with microchips. If one of our hamsters comes to an abrupt end by misfortune or simply has to be put to sleep due to a personality disorder or incontinence, our central command will be instantly alerted and they will ship a new hamster by overnight Fed-Ex delivery or, who can say, possibly a Star Trek transporter. That means, hamsters with your name on the delivery slip will keep coming for a hundred years no matter what. If the recipients hate hamsters and start throwing them away they’ll keep getting them anyway. Imagine if the world ended in 50 years right after a hamster was delivered with your name on it –wouldn’t that be a form of immortality? Yes Or No?
UPDATE: Former Club Sergeant At Arms George Carlin dictated his dream for 100 years of hamsters this from his death bed in 2008. The fact that A.Dick won it and caused the tax brouhaha (de-emphasis on the last 2 syllables) does not detract in any way from these fine sentiments, we believe.