in conversation with
in conversation with
WARNING: High Levels of Scurrilous Laughter
by bart plantenga
“L’humour est le plus court chemin d’un homme à un autre.” (Humor is the shortest road from one person to another.) • Georges Wolinski, satirical cartoonist at CH [RIP]
The nervous laugh, the golfer’s clap of hilarity, is applied in situations involving severely uncomfortable moments of consciousness, when one realizes that a humorist is suddenly talking about you or your type or talking about something you have no clue about, but you laugh anyway just in case – so as not to appear clueless or unhip.
These unsettling ah-ha moments occur in connection with the most scurrilous, upsetting of art forms – mockery, satire, burlesque, parody – which breed unease because here is where we undergo dramatic renovations of our comfort zone. But that’s the extent of our arsenal. They have our health benefits, we have heightened derision. They have the generals & the priests, we have the cartoonist & the stand-up comedian.
That the art of laughing at – & then getting others to laugh at – the absurd cruelty of the entitled, those who possess the power to make but mostly break is something we should not under estimate. The ultimate target of satire & comedy is hypocrisy, big hypocrisy as perpetrated upon us by those we entrust with our vote, our hard-earned wages, our lives, our rental agreements, our subscriptions, our souls.
An Art Show Mating Call
by Michael Pool
by Win Harms
i imagine hemingway’s last minutes
driven by soul and too much scotch
i wonder if he really wanted to die
i think about what that shotgun felt
like as he held it in his hands
was the barrel cool in his throat; did he gag?
what was his last confession?
a story of a safari gone awry or
his best friend having his leg blown
off in the great war
maybe he thought about a woman he loved
many years ago that didn’t love him back
all these thoughts in those last moments
living is waiting to die
building up to this last moment
channeling your goodbyes
love was a game but it was pretty to think so
of course he had these feelings so
what does that make me
as i contemplate hemingway’s
last lovely minutes?
by Rebeka Singer