Where do dead jokes go?

There’s a special place in hell.

So there I was sitting on the phone with my work husband, we will call him John. We are writing partners and have been since high school, that people is over thirty years. So the way we work we start telling each other jokes about our life. And we laugjh so hard until one of us says, “Write THAT DOWN!” It’s a really fun process. So picture it, 2023. 9 pm Eastern Time, 6pm Pacfic Time in the United State of America the beautifuful.

I’M LAYING IN MY BED in Michigan. He’s in California. We are talking via our apple phones. I’m making a plug for APple here, so they should pay me at some point don’t you think?

So I tell this joke about a bullet and almost dying of laughter, and how the bullet gets pulled out of my body. And all of a sudden things get serious. People there was a shooting at Michigan State University this week. That’s too close to home. Too, too, too, too, close.

But the point of the story is not death and destruction, it is in fact redemption. When me and John were in highschool I did a rendition of the trail of tears, if you don’t know what that is, look it up. THE TRAIL OF TEARS. Its a story about how white people oppressed American Indian people. It’s horrific. But somehow or the other, we are having this conversation and I see my dildo from a far. The question is have I washed it or not. TO be or NOt to be. To Wash or not to Wash. These are the kind of question we ask ourselves on a daily basis.

The truth of the matter is I’m a Luddite, but somehow the internet has given me permission to post things for the world to see. I used to write in a diary when I was a kid, but then I would write notes to my mom in the diary saying “I know you are reading this are you sure you want to continue?” She did of course read about my crush on mikey or joey or marky or whoever. It was always about some dude. Or it was about some backstabbing chica I was friends with who wanted to kiss the guy I liked. Turns out adulthood isn’t that different than childhood.

WHO ARE WE? AND WHY ARE WE HERE? And why are we thinking about dead jokes, or dead poets society, or dead people who are not my father, who is doing better by the way. And I’m thinking about the dead students at Michighan State. I went to U of M, Michgian State is my rival school. BUt in this case there is not rivalry. There is only life and death. And I choose life.

THis is not about abortion people, I choose my own life. I choose to live it. I choose to be myself. I choose me.

MY body my choice! You take away that choice from people to live when you kill them. Stop the shootings.

nina and jeff c.