Laughter and Pain

Cheryl was away yesterday on a school trip, leaving me to long day of movies and a nice walk with Willow--both of us long overdue for some real exercise and fresh air. She and I walked all the way around the block with no problem, though I imagine the neighbors wondered if I was drunk, putting one foot in front of the other in such a slow and careful manner. Willow, too, kept looking at me with a sort of amused contempt. Let's go, man, she seemed to say.

My scar and my overall sense of well-being are much improved, but I still am not able to laugh or cough without sending a ripping spasm of pain through my stomach. So naturally I decided to watch a movie last night that was certain to make me laugh. I made some popcorn, got comfortable and was doing fine until this scene forced me to pause the movie. It's just a matter of will power, I told myself and reached down into the calm center of my being, determined to control my emotions and watch the scene without laughing, only discover that I have no calm center. Tried again, pause, then again, pause, and finally had to turn off the movie and go to bed. I tried again this morning. Turned it off again.


Who knows what makes us laugh? I'm guessing that many people would find the scene to be juvenile, even offensive. It seems to makes fun of people with speech problems, but that's not why it is funny, I'm sure (except I don't know why it is funny).

Maybe it's funny because we like to laugh at pompous, clueless people. If so, shouldn't it be simple, then, to choose not to laugh. In fact, as hard as I try, I just cannot watch it, not at all, and if I try one more time I will bust a stitch. Maybe next week.