Honorable Puncinello, are your mental muscles taut and ready for the fight?
Is your double-edged quill ready to tickle the humerus and stab the parchment?
Make the paper bleed ink, my boy, and wear your greasepaint well.
Make the weary world forgetful of its troubles, clown,
If only for the breadth and width of your wilesome words.
Remind those in earshot of the world’s ridiculousness in which they swim.
Go to Battle, Noble Clown,
And return with their slaughtered seriousness.
Should any fail to see your smile and share it with their cheeks
Why this is thy time to try with pie and slyly vie to make them cry high,
That’s fucking funny!!
The peals of laughter have their own appeal, and each chuckle is your currency.
Go to Battle, Noble Clown,
And return bathed in tears of your target’s laughter!
The world’s gone mad while we were sleeping
All the sanity slithered southward, creeping
The square peg sick to death of trying to fit in the round hole.
Those who see the truth we call comedians, for they have courage to laugh
In the face of overwhelming mediocrity.
We’ve gone and assumed the world makes sense when sense has left the fucking building!
So point and laugh at the rising tsunami of entropic depression that wants to take all our color away and leave us white and dead.
Beat the wave there, clown, wear white already!
Go to Battle, Noble Clown,
And come back having taught your lesson!
Laughter is all that separates us from the lowly beasts who have no sense of humor!
Except for Hyenas. They got the joke eons ago and they
Never
Stopped
Laughing
The world we live in is so bent on making sure none of us last a hundred years, it’s hilarious!
The air is thick with ironic idiosyncrasies idly awaiting the hour
When we fail to take notice of its agenda for the final time and bamm.
Silence.
Fill that void with laughter, Clown, because entropy doesn’t get the joke.
It wrote the punchline and it still can’t manage a titter. Not a tweet!
And if the hungry void, nipping at our heels and slathering its jaws with sanguine saliva sees us smiling, hears us laughing, then that will give it pause.
Trip Entropy Up. She’ll cry what the hell was that, she will, before she brings the singing scythe down on your bleached crown.
Go to Battle, Noble Clown.
And make us laugh.