Tuesday, April 5, 2005

Here in these parts, where things happen a little differently, the problem of April Fools’ Day requires a unique solution. The primary goal–hopefully you’ve got your notebook out and ready–is to avoid indulging your fellow pranksters on April 1st. Ideally you can sidestep their elaborate stratagems and sit unfazed, cool as a flash frozen cucumber. Even if you fall for their elaborate jokes, simply do as I do. Make the corners of your lips curl up slightly, thus forming a rough reproduction of a smile, cough a bit, and then go to sleep, warm thermos of Nutella in hand.

The trick, the rub, the very cog of our machinations is to extend April Fools’ beyond its humble 24-hour origins into the other 29 days. Let’s call this April Schmucks’ Month, or whatever you want to name it, but I must ask you to refrain from describing the idea as “brilliant” or even “unparalleled.” Those are the two taboo words of the day, so you can’t say them. I find that denying ourselves arbitrary things can make us, well, humble.

Your creative juices are bound to shrink to a trickle over 29 days, but don’t worry. Some guiding principles, which we can cull from the traditional April Fools’ Day, are all you need to sustain your comedic run and win, win, win. First, there is something enduringly funny about not knowing when to stop. It’s like, “What’s the matter, you didn’t appreciate my joke? Why don’t I continue, then? Wait, you’re crying now? Please, I can’t cease my chucklings!”

Second, escalation.

“I have a rubber chicken.”

“Well, I have a rubber leg.“

“That’s pretty funny, because I have a rubber man.”

Third, if no one else laughs, look to yourself.

I know it’s been a long Friday, and I hope you have a restful weekend. What, you didn’t set your clock back 96 hours for Daylight Saving? April Schmucks’!