Crying is one of my favorite emotions.
I find it to be at once cathartic and cleansing.
Laughing until you cry is the best. I’m trying to think of the last time I laughed so hard I cried, but it has been awhile. It seems like when I was a young man I did it a lot more often.
The last comedian that made me cry laughing was Bill Murray, but Robin Williams’ manic energy and brilliant wit also kept me in stitches. And what the hell does it mean to put someone in stitches?
That sounds like a medical procedure which brings up a hilarious skit from (where else?), Saturday Night Live which starred the awesome Tom Hanks as Mr. Short-Term Memory.
Some people just aren’t hard-wired to cry.
The first movie I can recall crying at was Taras Bulba starring Yul Brynner and Tony Curtis. Being forced to shoot the one you love has got to be a tough one. If I were ever forced to shoot my soulmate Karen, I would simply turn the gun inward and end my life, or start blasting away at anyone else in the vicinity.
I also cried at The Reluctant Saint, an old Disney movie. Religious-themed movies were all approved by mom, so I watched all of ‘em. Ben-Hur, The Ten Commandments, and The Greatest Story Ever Told. Just about any Otto Preminger flick was acceptable.
Hallmark movies at Christmas must have seen me coming. Unless the storyline is so lame or contains a character so despicable, the chances are good I’ll be a mess by movies’ end.
My sister, who took great delight in torturing me when I was a tyke, made me start crying when she told me the Pope (John XXIII) had died. Now I was a fledgling Catholic boy, taking all the sacraments, but I really did not know much about the Pope unless it was through the news, but 11-year olds don’t really know shit anyway, so I was there, on little Showa Air Force Base in Japan, bawling my eyes out as my sister kept needling me and making me cry so much and so loudly that I woke up the parents.
Because the Pope, whom I knew squat about, passed away.
I would NOT cry when I got an ass-whipping, and I had several (some well-deserved).
I was (am) so stubborn, that I refused to shed a tear no matter how hard the punishment.
Once, in second grade, I got suspended from school for three days (see my blog The Great Recess Caper of 1961). I received an ass-whipping for the ages. I anticipated the flogging by shoving three Richie Rich comic books under my PJ’s.
My mom, after reading my suspension notice, wasted no time. She got even more pissed as she peeled away the comic books. Then I started laughing as she blasted away at my bottom. My stepfather took over, and the more and harder I would get hit, the louder I would laugh.
This unnerved my opposition.