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Humor: Torment Behind the Art

Edward L. Flaim

The Mystical Audience

At the conclusion of last month’s column, I indicated that we would address the concept of audience this month. Humor directed at the American Academy of Pornographic Artists would not play well before the National Conference of Bishops. Actually the concept of audience is simple. Whether you realize it or not, you know your audience. Think about this inherent knowledge while I try to distract you! Yes, for those of you have had any doubts, Ed is a cruel beast not of this planet. Hannibal Lechter required all of those security measures not to protect the public but to protect him from Ed, located in the adjacent cell.

In addressing the significance of audience in the creation of humor, I ostensibly focused on the differences between humor in the English-speaking nations of the United States, Canada, England and the Penal Colony of Australia.

I located repossessers of these nashuns by excreting the postings on WVU Boreds. The barbarian nations of Canada, England and Australia always misspelled "humor" as "humour." Only Americuns spilled humor correctively, which demunstraights our superiormess in righting words good! Dam! Doesn’t our interconnectivity shine dense through the English frog?? [For those who partook of too many cyber tokes, Bogarting same, misspellings and other errors intentional.]

We began to discuss humor and humour, trying to determine whether the spellings in and of themselves created a distinction between American humor and British and colonial humour. The "humour" devotees insisted that the greater numerical length of "humour" indicated that "humour" had greater content. I pointed out without much fervency that the additional "u" was most likely due to the blurred vision of some inebriate and remained that way as the British are traditionalists and merely started a new tradition to display their faux sophistication. However, it didn’t seem to be a point worth arguing.

The atmosphere soon changed. What began as a civil and mature academic discussion with these barbarians quickly degenerated into argument and cyber fisticuffs. We began as friends. We parted with cyber screams, vicious battles with cyber swords, guns, pots, pans, whatever was handy, and insults superbly illustrated by the less than witty representative of Great Britain stating, "Would you gentlemen and lady kindly insert it into your anal apertures?"

The demure, petite and extraordinarily beautiful female representative of the penal colony of Australia rose slowly and majestically from her chair and with the erudition expected from a woman of her stature and status screamed, "You wankers! I don't have a friggin’ 'it' to insert and I certainly wouldn't borrow any of yours, gents! Your opinions are like arseholes. Everyone has one and yours ain’t worth the bullshit they expel!"

The Canadian tossed his half cent into the ring. "Most of our citizens may still be learning to tie their shoelaces, but we did found Second City."

"And lost it!" said I, the only words I spoke that WVU will permit me to quote.

We fled from our desktop computers, grabbed our notebooks and fled to the nearest hot spots to reconvene our conversation.

"How did it go?" I asked my friends.

"You wanker!" responded my Aussie beauty, adding a ROFL to convey a nuance lacking in Internet communications. "That depends on whether the readers, if you have any readers, thought about your statement, that they already knew who their audience was."

"Yes, Ed," responded my British friend. "If they didn’t become entangled in our nonsense and focused on your truism, all is well."

My Canadian friend indicated with a LOL that his next statement was meant in jest. "We started Second City! I need comment no further!"

LOL all around, followed by disconnects. These vapid pustules abandoned me to fend for myself!

In "On Writing Well," William Zinsser addresses audience. He contends that if you have mastered the craft of writing, there is only one possible audience. You! In writing humor, fiction and non-fiction, we must realize, "You are writing for yourself. Don't try to visualize the great mass audience. There is no such audience—every reader is a different person.

Don’t try to guess what sort of thing editors want to publish or what you think the country is in a mood to read. Editors and readers don't know what they want to read until they read it."[1] Zinsser further conveys a concept I consider both profound and encouraging, especially when receiving negative critiques based not on mechanics but thoughts. "……..Whether the reader likes you, or likes what you are saying or how you are saying it, or agrees with it, or feels an affinity for your sense of humor or your vision of life, don't give him a moment’s worry. You are who you are, he is who he is, and either you'll get along or you won’t."[2]

Recently I was required to write a "How To" story to gain admission into a writing program. No, this was not a matchbook program but a reputable institution that actually rejects two-thirds of applicants planted beneath tombstones. Those at WVU who know me realize that I don’t even know how to find my ass. So I played on my imbecility and wrote "How to Escape the First Tee."

First, rent a gas-powered golf cart and remove the governor regulating speed. The experienced golfer is always prepared for a quick getaway from the First Tee.

Second, toss a new Titleist into the ball cleaning machine. It matters not that you just opened the box. You want to admire this costly little sucker, for it will never look the same again.

Third, grab a tee from your pocket. I recommend a black tee as it is most apropos for the dark experience awaiting you. Shove it into the ground.

Fourth, place the Titleist on the tee. Avoid gazing at your playing companions so they won’t detect the tears swelling in your eyes.

Fifth, pretend to be choosing a club. Look thoughtful, even though you know you will select a four wood. With this wood you at least have a chance of hitting the ball into the air. Avoid the temptation of choosing a driver unless you’re fond of watching a smiling ball roll fifteen yards down the fairway.

Sixth, approach the teed ball and take a practice swing. Notice how you don’t strike the ball. Get used to this feeling.

Seventh, address the ball, waggle the club a bit and swing. When you completely miss the ball, remain calm and convey the impression that this was your second practice swing.

Eighth, address the ball again, this time in prayer. Think, please let me hit the sucker, please, please, please!

Ninth, swing once again and watch your new Titleist shank towards the clubhouse, bouncing on the hard concrete before shattering the clubhouse window.

Tenth, run to your cart, floor the mother, abandon your companions, haul ass to the clubhouse and have your first of today’s many drinks.

Eleventh, call a cab, ask some semi-sober duffers to haul you to the cab, direct the cabbie to your home if you remember where it is and promise never to attempt this imbecilic game again.

This nonsense confirms Zissner’s contention that when writing, the writer is the primary audience. Admittedly I’m more than a bit biased. I believe that this article is mechanically correct and written in conformity with the rules of fiction inundated into me by the excellent facilitators, mentors and peers at WVU. People may disagree with my opinions, arguments and analyses but will find little wrong with the style of my writing. Many will accept my opinions. Others will reject them. But since I am my primary audience, I'm pleased with the results and only my opinion counts. Please don't interpret this statement as an unwillingness to accept criticism. The number of people I would have to credit for my few works that work would consume more space than the writing itself.

It does mean that if we write considering ourselves as the primary audience and we write well, the audience is there. Venturing into cliché, "If you build it, they will come."

All comments, criticisms and verbal executions are welcome. Please send to Ed@wvu.org. To make my life a bit easier, please place "Humor Column" in the subject line with a cyber toke.

[1] William Zinsser, "On Writing Well," pg. 25
[2] William Zissner, "On Writing Well," pg. 26