That was the funny of a frog, barely caressed on the anus by a wire, rocketing into the sun. Unique. Unrepeatable. Now lost to eternity, though, no more frog to hop upon command.

Fortunately we do have his new blog, comments safely closed, where we can follow the funny of our own man-slapping Borat on the Trinity with the same rapt wonder and joy with which we formerly visited AKA.

“And now I have your e-mail.” Chortle! Priceless.

Wow, I didn’t think I would start all this!

Please cut and paste the part where I said you aren’t funny. I never said that. I do think you are a great writer and a skilled humorist. You’re fighting a ghost here, man.

But I must comment on your calling me “starved for attention.” Those words are funny coming from someone who posts their random musings on a blog for which they receive no income. If that’s not the definition of attention-seeking, I don’t know what is.

Oh, and, GeeeeeeOff… as for your sleuthlike ability to find my e-mail, congratulations. Go ahead and spam that account. See if I actually use a real e-mail address for this pseudonym. It’s rayrayc21@yahoo.com.

Now everyone can play along!

AKA was and still is funny. If the measure of talent is defending yourself in the comments section of this blog…then I’m in good company.

Rawlins touched on something, the Gen Y commentary. AKA has moments of sheer genius. Geoff’s character stumbled into something by accident. It was entertainment, not contrived in a focus group, not dictated by a board, but just silly often trivial observations that hint to a deeper significance. (Personal favorite line, the schtick about dolphin jerky for a church picnic. Still gives me the giggles…)

Geoff is talented. Funny. And I can’t wait to read more.

[Grimacing. Sipping again from the ****tail and clearing throat. Pauses.]

Dear Mr. Abthernabther/Johnston:

You are indeed, sir, a funny man. You have entertained me, and I thank you for it. I know, as you do, that writing funny is like elbowing on one’s belly across gravel. In other words, unnatural and difficult and not particularly enjoyable. In other words, hard effin’ work. Made worthwhile, though, when you happen to drag your gut across a sparkling gem, an electrifying, flashing zinger. Thanks be to God for that fat, fleshy gut! That sweeper of gravel.

But watch out for the curled, steaming turds! The RayRayRay’s drying and crusting in the sun. They are not worth a single square of toilet paper! They stink and steam and offend all that behold them. Let the rain wash them down the sewer drains, with the condoms and the smashed Schlitz cans and the hairless rat corpses. Down turds, down! Down your stinking RayRayRay River of Styx!

And guard yourself against more than three double Jack Daniels after 9:00 pm on a Thursday night.

There are fewer than 10 persons whose opinions I care about. Someone once asked me who my target market is. It’s those 10 persons. And the editors of Vanity Fair. And recently, 33.6 million Canadians.

I grow old. I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers . . . uh, cuffed and pressed. I do not share your self-confidence in my humor. Do I dare to drink a fuzzy navel?

[Snorts, startles awake. Grimaces.]

You need no defense, Mr. Abthernabther. Don’t wrestle with turds.

Best,
MC

Nobody’s defending me because there’s nothing to defend, really. People have a right to their opinion. Even folks like you, who are obviously so starved for attention and companionship that they’ll go out of their way to engage someone they’re not particularly fond of. Which means, yes, I saw the comment you left on my new blog. And now I have your e-mail. You like unsolicited penis enlargement spam and dispatches from ousted Nigerian princes, right? You’re welcome.

It would be real easy for me to cop the ole “I never claimed I was funny” plea. But that’s lame. I take this silly stuff seriously. People who write “humor” columns that turn around and say they “never claim to be funny” are super lame, deserving of ritual execution before a live studio audience. They know who they are. I don’t care how “popular” these goons are. If popularity is directly proportional to hilarity, then explain the eight-season run of “According to Jim.”

Hells yeah, I think I’m funny. I am claiming right here and now that I think I’m funny. Not just funny. I think I’m hilarious. I think I am the funniest thing since sliced funny.

So what?

Here’s the deal, ding-dong. Humor is subjective. Always has been, always will be. So if you think I’m not funny or not talented or a hack or whatever… Guess what? You’re right. Congratulations, sweet cheeks. You’re right because humor is a matter of taste and personal preference. If we don’t share the same sensibilities and sense of humor, you are right to think I’m not funny. And while right, you’re also kind of a reused douche nozzle to keep harping on it like it’s a matter of any real importance.

The difference between people like you and people like me is that people like you think it’s enough to not like something. You think it’s enough to disagree. You think it’s enough to simply have an opinion and voice it. Like a baby or a monkey or a baby monkey. And thanks to the Interwebnet, you and your like are given a 24-hour, 7-day-a-week forum where you can pretend that your opinion actually matters to anyone but you.

People like me; we take our opinions, however silly or misguided or downright dumb, and we create things. We take our seemingly meaningless guttural pangs, neurotransmitter synapses and behavioral impulses, siphon them through a song or a poem or a painting or a blog or a poorly devised, ridiculously named, one-dimensional fictional character, and we turn that into something other people can enjoy. Not all people, not even most people, but some people other than ourselves will enjoy it.

I’m sure lots of people agree with your comments, but I’d bet very few truly enjoy them. Even though lots of people don’t like what I do, lots of other people do; the kind of people who don’t have to defend what they like.

As a friend who loves you, let me just say that it’s sad that you’re the one who has had to defend yourself multiple times in this comments section.

At least the bloggers here on FrontBurner have a loyal following who will come to their aid when someone hurts their feelings.