The language of comedy is anything but funny. In fact, it is quite grim. Think about it. You tell gags. They end with a punch line. If you do well, you killed them. If you stink, you died. And in a fine piece of unilateral escalation, if you really stink, you bombed. A really good joke slays them. A great one knocks them in the aisles.

There's more, but I think you have the idea. Besides, I am by nature a sunny kind of guy. All this talk of violence and mayhem in regards to the gentle art of comedy gives me heartburn. Even more so, since tonight I had experienced the Mother of All Bombs. A real carpet-bombing. A genuine scorched earth, leave no blade of grass standing kind of bomb.