Today was my last full day in Los Angeles. I spent that day wisely by eating Domino’s Pizza and watching comedians like Jim Gaffigan, Louis CK, Brian Regan, and Russell Peters on YouTube.
When I was in fifth grade or so, my friends told me I should become a comedian when I grow up. I was the class clown. I made the jokes and the class laughed. I wrote funny essays that were read out loud by the teacher in order to shame me, but the class just erupted in a chaotic choir of laughter. I love humor. It’s always been a part of my life. When I was in a freshman in high school, I discovered sarcasm. I immediately fell in love with it. I overused it according to my French teacher. She told me that sarcasm can be intelligent but at a certain point it’s too much.
You know how sometimes your sarcasm is so advanced that people think that you’re stupid? And then you can’t be like, “No, I was being sarcastic.” They’ll just write it off as some excuse for your stupidity. I hate those situations. Usually what I do is I sit down on the ground and look up at the person or the group and quote the esteemed Fyodor Dostoevsky.
Sarcasm: the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded.
That quote holds so many good, complicated words that it just makes you seem intelligent when you quote it without missing a beat. It’s like learning just one sentence of a foreign language, and when someone asks you if you speak that language, you just say that one statement that you have perfected. Like when I’m in France and someone asks me if I speak French, I reply, “Je ne le comprends pas” in the best French accent I can attempt to express. They usually think about it for a second and then laugh and continue spewing foreign words in rapid French. Brilliant plan.