READY, FIRE, AIM: Don’t Try This at Home

I’ve often heard performers and entertainers issue a warning to their audiences:

“I’m a trained professional… don’t try this at home…”

Sometimes this is spoken as a joke, because the guy who’s saying it is juggling knives while standing on one leg, barefoot, on the edge of a sword, at risk of falling into a large body of water.  Obviously, nobody is going to try this at home.

We understand, however, that the guy juggling the knives probably taught himself how to do it while practicing in his back yard… at home. We almost always learn to do dangerous things at home.

For instance, I learned how to write humor columns at home. As a result, I am now a trained professional, and I could readily issue a warning to innocent but eager creative writing majors and fledgling humorists:

“Don’t try this at home.”

But realistically, writing humor columns almost always happens at home. What, am I expected to rent an office? On my salary?

My sole intention, however, is to warn people about the dangers of writing humor columns, whether you write them at home or on a beach in Costa Rica. One might naively think that writing humor is less dangerous than other things that are dangerous. Skydiving, for example. Or juggling knives, while skydiving. Or juggling knpves while skydiving, without a parachute. (Don’t try that at home.)

As a matter of fact, writing humor columns is very much like juggling knives while skydiving without a parachute, in the sense that you’re always wondering where, exactly, you’re going to land, and what is likely to happen with the knives when you do.

The knives, in my case, are the bitingly sharp, sarcastic jokes I make about important people who may have the power to deport me to Venezuela.

I wouldn’t mind being deported to a beach in Costa Rica. But Venezuela is an entirely different matter. Just ask anyone who’s been deported to that country lately.

Some writers stick to making fun of powerless people, such as the people in their own families. An ex-wife or ex-husband can be a suitable target, assuming they have a sense of humor, and also that you’re not trying to get back together with them.

In my opinion, the easiest jokes are often self-deprecating. The most ridiculous person I know is the guy I see in the mirror in the morning when I’m shaving. Which is why I so often have a three-day beard.

But if you’re willing to slander powerful people — that is to say, if you are willing to juggle knives — you might be headed for a profitable career as a professional humor writer.

Once you’re a professional, you can do this at home. And no one can tell you not to.

Also, you can tell other people not to do it at home. Because now you’re a professional. Standing barefoot, on the edge of a sword.