Don’t you just love those social surveys that tell you that the animal you’re most like is a ferret? Or, how about the one that asks things such as your favorite color, sports team, shirt size, and zodiac sign so that they can tell which clothing retailer’s advertisements to send you.
I usually don’t fall for this foolishness. But this was a Facebook friend asking stuff. It was, in fact, my first-born son asking stuff. He wasn’t asking me; I was just lurking. He should have know better. He was obviously just making trouble. I’ll show him trouble.
So, he asks: “Philosophical question for the artistic types… If you had to choose between doing a decent job with something completely new, innovative, and groundbreaking, or an excellent job at something tried-and-true, which would you pick?”


Dear Ask Amy – Am I not funny?
Dear Ask Amy,
I have been having trouble getting responses from my friends on Facebook when I make witty comments.
For instance, An Aunt on my Mother’s side posted that she was feeling tired and puffy. One of her friends replied that maybe she had the jaundice. I suggested that maybe she had the Michelin, but nobody made any more comments to either of us after mine. Maybe they didn’t understand. The Michelin Man is made out of tires. Get it? And he looks all puffy. Or maybe my comment was just so spot on brilliant that nobody had the courage to try to top it. But, I’m having trouble figuring out which way it is.
Another time, someone mentioned that a customer had broken a contract. I told them that it was a good thing that they didn’t live in ancient Egypt when contracts were written in hieroglyphics on clay tablets because then when someone broke a contract it was literally broken. Nobody commented on that one either.
My question is this: can you tell me if I am funny or not?
Hilarious in Harrisburg
Dear Hilarious,
I’m not going to touch that with a ten-foot Hungarian. Just don’t give up your day job. Also, never stoop to explaining a joke. If it crashes and dies, just bury it.
Copyright 2011, David Satterlee