I occasionally get e-mails from my in-laws that relay reviews of my columns.
A lot of them come from fellow residents of the retirement community in which they live. Others are from family members, distant and close, who apparently are forwarded the column each week.
I try to be humble, but it’s quite a delight when I read the comments from folks I do not know. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like hearing the kind words.
This week, I got an e-mail from my in-laws with a comment from one of their friends who is a new reader of the column. “HILARIOUS!” it said, in big bold letters.
I don’t really think of myself as hilarious. Mel Brooks is hilarious. I’m just a guy. “Hilarious” is quite something to live up to. “Hilarious” is a big order. There might be some weeks when I am mildly amusing. I’m quite afraid the folks who think I am hilarious might be let down.
I don’t try to be hilarious. Most of the time, I don’t want to be hilarious.
I can imagine George Clooney doesn’t always want to be George Clooney and then People Magazine goes and calls him the Sexiest Man Alive. All George wants to do is wake up in the morning and turn on the tube and eat Fritos, but he’s the Sexiest Man Alive, and this is not something The Sexiest Man Alive is supposed to do. I’m not sure what the Sexiest Man Alive is supposed to do other than walk around and have people call him sexy.
I’m not particularly sexy, so I guess I’m saddled with “hilarious.” I’m pretty sure no one will care if I get up, turn on the tube and eat a big bag of Fritos.
I’m sure that I will never get voted the Hilariousest Man Alive. First of all, there is no such word as “hilariousest.” Additionally, I’m probably not deserving of the title.
I asked my wife what title I deserved. She thought a moment about a title I could put in the paper. Man Most Likely to Find a Way to Weasel Out of Mowing the Lawn was the first one. She suggested I also be granted the designation of Man Who Forgets to Flip the Little Lever in the Shower So His Wife Gets Blasted With Water When She Turns the Spigot.
These will never get me on the cover of People Magazine. Neither will the Greatest Man to Ever Use All the Gas in His Wife’s Car and not Fill the Tank When He Is Done With The Car or the Sexiest Man to Ever Leave His Dirty Clothes on the Bedroom Floor Two Feet From the Lousy Hamper … Again!
I don’t want to say I don’t appreciate the compliments. I appreciate each and every one of them.
Now, keep in mind, this is not false humility. I don’t want to come across as one of those people who say they don’t want compliments and when compliments don’t come, they complain no one ever says anything nice about them.
I see this a lot on social media. A lot of the time it’s a girl in a bikini saying, “I don’t want go out in my bikini because I’m fat,” and the girl looks like a supermodel. Folks, she knows she looks like a supermodel.
If I looked like the above-mentioned Clooney, I would be fully aware of it. I would not go around saying I looked like Shrek and fishing for compliments.
The bikini girl probably has gone about 20 minutes without a compliment and cannot deal with such rejection.
The woman who said I was HILARIOUS (capital letters intended) is named Anne.
Thank you, Anne, for the wonderful compliment. I’m sure you’re PRETTY SWELL.