The last week, I have been thinking about my dad. Feminists and comedians are squabbling about Daniel Tosh and I am doing my best to stay out of their fight, but I love feminists and comedians, so I do not know what to do. I wish a feminist comedian could translate for everyone.
Listening to the pain about rape jokes, I have been remembering the years following my father's suicide.
Who knew so many people joked about suicide?
It was not just the comedians, who found lazy ways to end routines with "and then he killed himself." At least when comedians told suicide jokes, I could avoid listening to comedy. It seemed that everyone joked about suicide... the people trying to be funny or melodramatic did not really plan to committ suicide, they were just emphasizing the significance of shopping or baseball. My friends would tell me about a rough day at work and how they were going to shoot themselves if ... AND THESE PEOPLE KNEW ME!
Drinking the Kool Aid has become a humorous culture expression about political opponents instead of a reference to large scale murder suicide. Cult suicides are especially funny.
I have not written about my father since last year and since I have started using my new blog, I do not visit this site as much any more. I miss my dad. I even miss thinking about him every day. I miss hearing offensive suicide jokes. Where have they gone? I can't imagine that comedians have become more sensitive.
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