My condition walked into a bar

This is a guest post by Caleb J Ross (also known as Caleb Ross, to people who hate Js) as part of his Stranger Will Tour for Strange blog tour. He will be guest-posting beginning with the release of his novel Stranger Will in March 2011 to the release of his second novel, I Didn’t Mean to Be Kevin and novella, As a Machine and Parts, in November 2011. If you have connections to a lit blog of any type, professional journal or personal site, please contact him. To be a groupie and follow this tour, subscribe to the Caleb J Ross blog RSS feed. Follow him on Twitter: @calebjross.com. Friend him on Facebook: Facebook.com/rosscaleb

I have this problem with feeling as though every single word I type as part of a blog post, blog comment, tweet, or Facebook update must be either a punchline or must be leading up to one. This feels like a true mental/medical condition that should be studied. I would imagine it to fall under the same umbrella as the Truman Show Delusion (which is a real thing...much like my video-taped real life exploits). See! See that parenthetical statement just now. I had to weave a joke (funny or not, intent is what makes a joke a joke) into this post. I can’t help myself.

Oh, and the self-depreciation. I thrive on it. I learned at an early age that being short and frail is socially acceptable only when describing a lab-coated scientist or a comedian. Professional, I am neither, but personally I’d like to think I know my way around a joke and a Bunsen burner. My understanding of my position within society, and my consistency in filling that role, has warped my brain into being able only to produce humorous(ish) content.

Maybe that’s why, when I write books, I tend to skirt the humor. Books are my safe space.

Why is humor so powerful? The urge to be funny seems like a universal urge, right? We all eat. We all sleep. We all did Austin Powers and Ace Ventura impressions during those movies’ respective heydays. Humor, to me, feels like the ultimate defense destroyer. A joke, even one not funny, tells an otherwise stiff and unapproachable audience that we have something inherently, though intangibly (which makes humor even more interesting, to me) in common. Humor, generally speaking, is simply a commentary on the invisible social structures that keep us aligned as a group. We are all spectators to these structures; rarely are we participants in their creation (even politicians and lawyers act as part of a greater structure).

I’ve falling victim to the inherent aversion to intellectualizing humor: too much thought can make turn a laugh sour. So, for fear of souring you readers, let me leave you with this, my latest marginally funny tweet:

@calebjross: Please, someone write a story with an obsessive compulsive werewolf nun. Title: Creature of the Habit.