If it seems like some of the things I write sound rather facetious, absurd and/or almost humorous at times, it’s okay to laugh. I probably meant it as a bit of satire to break up the intensity of otherwise somber subject matter. 

I probably watched too much Monty Python’s Flying Circus back in the ’70s; I tend to see the glimmer of humor in the most serious of topics. Unfortunately people often don’t know when I’m kidding. Maybe I need some kind of sign to let them know when a chuckle might be appropriate. 

There’s a fitting Monty Python sketch wherein Graham Chapman is dictating to his secretary who writes down everything he says, including everything in between his dictation as well. He finally decides to put on a set of fake antlers as a signal he’s actually dictating, taking them off for any asides, like “Don’t write that, I’m not dictating yet.” 

I wonder if I should devise such a system so you’ll know when I’m joking. Until I come up with something, just assume that whenever I say anything out of the blue (such as:  “In a biosphere rife with anthropogenic ruination, it’s hard for any bona fide misanthrope to avoid the lure of self-loathing;” “sometimes people can be conditioned to thinking they actually enjoy things that should be unsettling to their senses, such as a burst of firecrackers or a Ted Nugent concert;” and of course, the complete text of “How the Grinch Stole Hunting Season“), it’s safe to assume I’m kidding. Go ahead and laugh—it’s good for your complexion.