January 14: "Carbon Dating," Inflated Academics, Steven Wright

Billy Collins tells a joke . . .

Carbon Dating

by:  Billy Collins

He tried it once

as a last resort

but most of the women

were a million years old.

This poem makes me laugh.  It doesn't have deep meaning.  There isn't any serious subtext.  It's just plain funny.  Period.

Collins often gets criticized for poems like this.  He doesn't mind having fun with his art.  I think he revels in popping the balloons of inflated academics.  Don't get me wrong.  Collins can be deadly serious, too.  The poem he wrote for the one-year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks--titled "The Names"--is powerfully moving.  But Collins doesn't like to take himself too seriously.  And, frankly, I don't like being around people who can't laugh at themselves.

One of my favorite comedians in the 1980s was Steven Wright.  He is a master of clever one-liners.  Here's a few of my favorite Wright-isms:

• "Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories."
• "A lot of people are afraid of heights.  Not me.  I'm afraid of widths."
• "If you think nobody cares about you, try missing a couple of payments."
• "I poured spot remover on my dog.  Now he's gone."
• "I was reading the dictionary.  I thought it was a poem about everything."
• "I think it's wrong that only one company makes the game Monopoly."
• "I remember when the candle shop burned down.  Everyone stood around singing 'Happy Birthday.'"
• "I bought some batteries, but they weren't included."
• "All those who believe in psychokinesis, raise my hand."
• "How young can you die of old age?"

I don't care who you are.  That is funny shit.

I can be very serious.  In fact, if you saw me in my natural habitat (sitting in my pajamas on my couch, reading a book or watching TV), you'd probably think my pet goldfish had just died.  I'm not a belly laugher.  I'm more of a shy smirker.

After the blizzard of this weekend--the 50-mile-an-hour winds, four-foot snowdrifts, and below-zero wind chills--I needed a beautiful sunset and a laugh tonight.  Tonight's poem is the laugh.  The sunset is below.

Now, Saint Marty has just one last question:  Why did the mime quit his job?  Because he was feeling boxed in.