If you know me at all, you know that stupid jokes are my favorite. You know the ones. The punchline meets you broadside and even though you could see it coming, you still roll your eyes and smile.
Usually, if I hear a joke like that I will laugh out loud. I love dumb jokes, especially those having to do with some geeky head knowledge. I tell my students science jokes, and it helps them remember the material. They all know what a neutron is, because when it walked into a bar and ordered its drink, the bartender said, "For you, no charge."
So anyway, I like laughing, and I especially enjoy laughing with good friends. And I believe you can tell a lot about a person through humor.
I used to say that anything said in sarcasm is in fact the truth, but the speaker is too chicken to just say what they mean. So they run to sarcasm, knowing that if the idea is rejected, they can claim it was a joke. But it wasn't. So I pay close attention to sarcasm, sardonism, and other ways people communicate in order to learn about them.
But nothing is more telling than a belly laugh. You know the type. The doubled-over, open-mouth, closed-eyes, can't-hardly-breathe laugh. When you see this, it's a treasure. And depending on the cause of the laugh, it's very telling.
Because here's the thing: you can't fake a belly laugh. And I like sincerity. I don't like dishonesty and I don't like nebulousness. It makes me a little crazy. But sincerity is refreshing. It's like breathing in the ocean for the first time after living in a polluted city. It's the smell of trees after diesel exhaust. It's a glass of cool water on a hot day. A warm bath when it's raining out. Sincerity is one of the most desirable traits I can imagine.
Now, you may not know this about me, but I used to be a chronic liar.
No, it's true.
There was a time in my life where I could not go but a few minutes without telling a lie. I told lies compounded by lies, mostly because I believed that I wasn't naturally interesting enough to carry on a conversation and I had to try harder.
And then one day, I was trying to tell a story, and I realized that I had lied about it so often that I no longer remembered the truth. The memory of the lie had replaced it. And to this day I can't remember what really happened in that story. But when I came to that point, I got scared. I was actually changing my memories with my lies. So I decided to stop lying.
But it wasn't easy.
I would catch myself in the middle of a lie and have to go back and start over. This was pretty embarrassing. It took me a while. But now I can (honestly) say that I don't tell lies like that anymore. I am a reformed liar.
And this is why I value sincerity so much. And why I choose friends that I find sincere. And why I detest people that seem plastic.
Without wax. It's the way to go.
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