The above quote comes courtesy of George Carlin, whose philisophical impact I personally put squarely between Socrates and Lao Tzu. Carlin went on to prove his point by making fun of rape. Personally, I don't find rape very funny, but dammit if Carlin didn't have me laughing seconds later, as he envisioned Elmer Fudd raping Porky Pig.
See, some of you are laughing right now, and some of you are pinching up your faces, thinking "nope, its still not funny."
That's also pretty much the reaction I would expect to a lighthearted blog about my wife's breast cancer entitled "Gallows Humor." I assure you that the idea for the blog as well as its title were both Polly's. I can further assure you that while she is not at all pleased to be dealing with F-ing CANCER at the age of 35, she also is the last person in the world who would jump in bed, hide under the covers, and pretend it all isn't happening.
Not my wife, sonny boy.
No, in typical Polly style, she's grabbing her cancer by the horns and wrestling that sucker HER WAY, and while yes, tears have been shed and will likely be shed again, overall, she's delt with this the same way she's dealt with everything in her life: straight on. Its part of the reason I fell in love with her in the first place, and part of the reason I continue to fall a little more in love with her more every day.
. . .
Screw it. My wife has cancer, dude. I'll get as schmaltzy as I damn please about it.
One last note. Polly and I have agreed to be very honest on this blog, so in that spirit, expect future posts from me exploring our sex life, my thoughts on her breasts (past, present, and future), and all other manner of personal stuff that are going to be affected by this. Mom, avert your eyes. Dad, just stop reading now.