Black Humour.

Black humour is defined as “a humorous way of looking at or treating something that is serious or sad.”  This cartoon falls well within that definition.

That is, for someone who is not facing that particular problem, it can be funny.

I now have to use two elbow crutches to walk and cannot walk long distances.  I most certainly will not be able to walk around the block here.

I used to be a rock and roller and was fairly good at jiving.  So while this cartoon resonates with me, it also makes me disappointed that I am no longer capable of rocking and rolling unless I now take to a rocking chair and start rolling my own grass.

11 thoughts on “Black Humour.”

  1. Are you talking weed here Ramana? LOL Might be a good idea.
    Adjusting to the new state of being is difficult alright. Acceptance is another matter. Those elbow crutches must be awkward.


  2. A lot of people think black humour is tasteless and repugnant, but everything has both a serious and a funny side. Doctors joke about patients, undertakers joke about the dead. Black humour (also known as gallows humour) can lighten a gloomy atmosphere and cheer people up.

    1. I quite agree with you, Nick. Sometimes life is so ridiculous, bordering on the absurd that gallows’ humour is the only one to keep us smiling (and from hanging ourselves). Having said that, there is another type of humour. It’s an acquired taste and appeals to few which is why I keep it largely to myself, rarely put it on the page. As the Angel once put it: “Mama, your humour is not only questionable; it’s so dark one needs a light”. Yeah, well, says she – laughing.


  3. Since you are very fetching to look at, my dear Ramana, I am sure those crutches will only enhance your appearance. Give you even more gravitas. Your local deity’s test being how well you endure the inconvenience. I am convinced that’s why some of us, intermittently, do go into the desert or at least a forest. To roar at our respective frustrations out of anyone’s earshot. I have only done it twice (once at age eighteen, the other at age twenty six). What a charmed life I live.

    Your cartoon made me laugh. I am in two minds whether I’d want to live so long as to be able to make fun of my diminishing powers. We’ll see. At the moment I clutch at my promising genes’ good fortune judging by my forebears. As an aside, and maybe you can shed some light on this: I find it hard to question anyone, say, my parents whether they or the other is still compos mentis. Whether they are or they aren’t (and they are – though sometimes I wish they weren’t to give them an excuse for some of their more outrages utterings so I can just ignore them) they keep assuring me they are. Give me a slippery eel any time.

    Back to walking: I am largely given to meandering, one of those people who aren’t in a rush, taking in their surroundings at leisure. However, I have realized that if you want to take years off you walk TALL (straight back) and you walk FAST.

    All the best, Ramana; if you do trip over the dog try to roll off your shoulder (it’s a tip the Apple of my Eye gave me when I took up roller skating again and promptly broke my left wrist to stem my falling backwards).


    1. I am flattered that you think that I look fetching! I haven’t heard that word in ages! Let us hope that I don’t trip over the dog but, if I do, I shall remember to roll off my shoulder. I would have loved to see you roller skate! Not the fall of course.

    1. Catherine, that is a lovely idea worth exploring. I shall get my dil to work on it with a battery operated system. I doubt very much though, if I ever will take a stroll in the night in the foreseeable future.

  4. I keep reminding myself to be grateful that I can walk, talk, and think (all in a manner of speaking). It certainly ain’t what it used to be. Pot is an alternative but seems to me that would make all of my abilities a little more shaky. I think I’ll pass.

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