Both Feet in the Punchline
Hollywood Roosevelt Archives Both Feet in the Punchline I don’t dip a toe into humor - I cannonball. Both feet in the punchline, socks still on, confidence inflated like a pool toy with opinions. Subtlety waits on the diving board clearing its throat. I have already leapt, knees tucked, grin reckless, into the deep end of Did I just say that? The joke blooms beneath me, a bright inflatable flamingo of timing. I land slightly left of clever, splashing metaphors into the hors d’oeuvres. Somewhere, nuance towels off quietly. I tell myself this is commitment; no cautious tap-dance around the rim shot. If there’s a rake in the yard, I will not sidestep it. I will audition for it. I will study its handle, admire its balance, and then, with athletic sincerity, introduce my forehead. The crowd laughs, or coughs, or practices their blinking. I bow anyway, soaked in my own bravado. Because if you’re going to land, land loudly. Let the water testify. Let the rake have a story. Both feet, fri...
