Being serious is way overrated.

Snarled up in the clutches of our worries about our health, sanity, money, family, work or waist lines, we may fail to see the droll, weirdly funny, hilarious angle on life.

Wry is good medicine for a bad bout of over-seriousness.

Mr. Mark Twain was particularly adept at ham and rye and cultivated the habit of being oddly humorous as a salvific way of life.  Mark said things like:

“Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.”

He also famously remarked,”When a boy turns 13, seal him in a barrel and feed him through a knot hole. When he turns 16, plug up the hole.”

Dorothy Parker had it too, the wit and wild thing going on too. She was a bad girl.  She and Twain would have been a hoot together.

“I don’t care what is written about me,” she wrote, “as long as it isn’t true.

Consider Ben Franklin. Respectable, right?

“Three can keep a secret if two are dead.”

Or Zsa Zsa Gabor. I wonder how Zsa and Mr. Franklin would have gotten on?

Zsa Zsa: “He taught me housekeeping. When I divorce, I keep the house,” or “A man is incomplete until he is married, then he is finished.”

I know Ben would have hooted over Zsa.

More wry is needed, to help us laugh, and to wryght wrong and wrong wryght thinking.

Who was it now, who said:  “He who has been forgiven little loves little”?

Wasn’t that Jesus, being a bit wry?

Wry? It’s good company, with just a touch of bad manners.

I’m with Groucho Marx, “Those are my principles. If you don’t like them I have others.”

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