Comedy and me

They say traditional comedy is dead. Off-colour moments in many of the top TV shows have been wiped from the internet, and several high-profile comedians worry that increased sensitivity is killing their craft. Even at my school, our longtime comedy magazine was shut down a few years ago, and assemblies have been objectively risk-averse and uncreative.

But I’m here to prove the opposite: comedy is alive and better than ever, and it doesn’t have to offend in order to be successful. Throughout my life, all forms of comedy–stand-up, sketch, TV shows, Shakespeare, and yes, even memes–have made my days brighter and more bearable.

I’ve always been a (self-proclaimed) student of comedy and I have always sought to bring light to even the most unpleasant situations with an apt pun or reference to a show.

Now, you may ask, am I actually funny? Well, that’s not for me to decide. But regardless, I love to read and watch comedy. My favourite shows are 30 Rock and the (far superior) British version of The Office, two tremendous series that touch on all-too-real societal problems with the unflinching aid of comedy, laugh track not necessary.

Ten years ago, the phenomenon of ostracism we have labeled ”cancel culture” did not exist. Now, I’m not going to talk about how increased sensitivity is a bad thing (because it’s not), but I do want to bring light to the ways in which comedy—even when it borders on edginess—has illuminated my life.

Let me take you back to a memorable scene in my first-grade classroom. The year was 2014, and my best friend at the time had just returned from the washroom. With a towering four-feet, one-inch frame, he pranced into the doorway and looked around, only to glimpse no teacher in sight. Emboldened by this apparent freedom, he shrieked, “Guys, no teacher! Let’s have a dance party!” This remark wouldn’t have been that funny–my friend acted like this all the time–had my teacher not sprung up from a deskside squat and confronted him. We laughed and laughed, and continued to retell the story for the rest of the year, tearing up in pure elation each time. We could just as easily have remained silent and shot daggers at our friend, but we knew even then that it’s human nature to lighten up a situation with laughter. As Rene Goscinny’s fictional protagonist Nicholas reiterated frequently in his eponymous series, “we were all shouting and running around and we were having a really fabulous time!” (Goscinny, 1959)

Comedy’s an exercise in articulateness to get your message across while straddling the line between offensive and topical. Sensitivity does not mean less creativity, nor does it mean less comedy.

In light of difficult moments in different facets of my life, a well-timed, well-thought-out joke has always been able to set aside negative emotions and anxiety, albeit temporarily. As long as you know your audience, you’re not going to offend anyone, let alone compound suffering. I personally believe that there are few situations in life incapable of providing a comedic silver lining.

Take my family’s trip to London this past summer. After our overnight flight was delayed by several hours, we arrived at Heathrow tired, greasy, and jetlagged…only to find that there was a mix-up with our bags at the airport. Along with hundreds of other passengers at the baggage claim carousel, we ended up waiting three hours in a claustrophobic terminal until our bags finally arrived.

Now, the pessimist in the room would find ways to be cynical about the situation, a perfectly reasonable perspective in the midst of such chaos. But, by cracking jokes, pointing out the airport’s idiosyncrasies, and drawing caricatures of other passengers, my family and I were able to stay positive and not only endure this ordeal, but enjoy it.

Or take my first summer at sleepaway camp, back in 2017. On a stormy day, my friends and I were huddled in our cabin, innocently playing card games to pass the time. However, one of my cabinmates had never experienced weather this severe. Whimpering under a bunk bed, he seemed to be going through a bout of anxiety, an awful, awful feeling. I remembered that someone else had foolishly decided to pack a comically-large amount of underwear (it was six years ago, but 10 pairs may be a good estimate). I told him to put on all of them, cheering all of us up in the process and instantly ridding my cabinmate of his anxiety.

Comedy isn’t a zero-sum game. It’s not as if your language will always elicit laughter when innocent or always offend when borderline. If you know your audience, there’s some decent wiggle room. But finding that gray area requires determination to pursue more eloquent, quicker-thinking speech patterns.

Humour has existed since the dawn of time and it isn’t going anywhere. It’s an instrument for change, and for all of its thorns, it bears some powerful fruits.