Illness and jokes

Last Thursday, Kathi’s sister called me a weakling; told me that I have no immune system. This was like Herve Villechaize calling Manute Bol short. There is, of course, a background story but telling it would get me in trouble. A summary is as follows: I made fun of her for always being sick (but, strangely, never showing symptoms). Then I got sick and soldiered on, working 13, 11 and 12 hour days consecutively. She saw her chance for revenge. No harm, no foul. Karma’s a bitch, right?

Still though – this got me thinking about something. In order for a joke to be effective, you have to make sure that it can’t be turned on you. For example, I make fun of Andy for being gay and I can do that because I am the epitome of manliness. I have the hair in weird places to back me up on that claim. If this guy were to make fun of Andy for being gay though, that wouldn’t be as funny. (Actually, it kinda would be funny. I mean, if HE thinks you’re gay, you MUST be packin’ some serious fudge).

In any event, the joke wasn’t funny to me because calling someone weak for genuinely being sick and then working like a dog despite the illness is hardly weakness. As a matter of fact, I now like to think of myself as better than Rambo. Yes… better than Rambo…