My sense of humour is very dark. I can find something hilarious in literally everything. Someone pointed out how my book was “kind of funny” and I was astounded that it took someone this long to figure out that I found the situation funny.

To be clear: my humour is pointed at myself usually. I will laugh at horrible situations because I find the reaction I would have pathetic and cliché. That is what I find funny, not what someone else went through.

Know what is not funny? Malicious jokes. Unnecessary comments. Bigotry. I find these things and a few others to be the lowest common denominator. Otherwise, I think it is all fair game. This is why I have such a hard time with this “PC” movement. All because you are not saying horrible things does not mean that you aren’t thinking horrible things. When said out loud, they can be corrected. You can only teach those who you know you can teach. Nothing frustrates me more than someone taking a joke out of context, or not realizing it’s a joke (honestly).

The absolute best was I made a slight at myself and my friend exclaimed that I shouldn’t do that. My retort was “you’re right. I might offend someone in a wheelchair.” They deemed that way too offensive, because it meant that, somehow, I was attacking them.

I guess my end point was know your audience. Also, know who you are talking to.

Re-read my blog. Read my book. The entire time, realize I am dictating everything with a huge smile on my face.

Jokes, Humour, and Pain

Interesting thing I have run into: all because I am in a wheelchair, I must know Jim who is ALSO in a wheelchair!


Well, yes, I do know Jim.

That information does not negate the fact that all because I have an association with that Jim that I will with every Jim.

Yes: people put into wheelchairs instead of being born into needing one seem to have a sick fascination with war stories. Maybe it is a kind of therapy? Maybe the only source of pride? I do not know what the reason is, but holy FUCK: I am very guilty of that.

I know that, from where I was, it was a way to make sure everyone knew there was something different about me but I am still me. When dealing with other people in wheelchairs, it was a new audience: someone I could express anger, disappointment and hate towards able-bodied-people and they would get it.

No one realizes just how different the world is when you are viewing it from a chair. People speak to you as if you are made of glass. Even sharing a just-off-opinion is followed by the people around you asking a million times if it is okay to think that way.

It is a bit of a joke in its naïveté. The best part, for me, is saying something horribly offensive towards people in wheelchairs and then watching everyone cringe.

There is a difference between saying something out of ignorance or jest and saying something out of malice. Someone making an off colour joke hoping you will appreciate there stance?  Fine.

Saying something expecting or demanding recognition? Not fine. It does not matter if you are a friend. If you are saying something with even a hint of aggression, it is not fine. If you are saying something definitive but it is wrong, it is not fine. If you are attacking someone, it is not fine.

The rules around humour and jest are the same with someone in a wheelchair as they are with someone not. If they seem fine with it, joke on. If they get uncomfortable, stop. It’s simple! I promise.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to continue hiding the bodies.