For every word a price must be paid or benefit gained. Normally this is thought of a as a political or commercial theorem. But if you ponder deeply enough into the eyes of a very old and ornery field mouse, it will eventually bite you square on the nose. The same is to be said for humor or other types of general verbal spewing. It all cannot be just pixels or generics. Something or someone, somewhere must pay for those really awful and intestinally challengingly unfunny jokes that are printed ( as some may comment often drone on in these pages ). Everyone knows those office moments where someone tells the ultimate in untimely and unfunny conversationally injected jokes that is so beyond inappropriate, not funny or inversely the absolutely the worst possibly pun you’ve ever heard. Payment has to be had. Karmic humor must exist….
Somewhere out there, on an undiscovered land or area, there are probably a small nation of pygmies that exist that unknowingly suffer from all the ills of the rest of humanity. This is where all of karmic humor must rest. A small insignificant bad joke may kill a single pygmy. A gut wrenchingly bad pun, a village. To the poor pygmies, its a sort of random event of unexplainable bad fortune.
Bob walks in to Marks’ office; “I got a question, Mark,…”, Mark quickly replies, “I have an exclamation mark, but its sorta the same, just more straight and less squiggly at the top…..”
*somewhere far away in pygmy land*
*small boar hunting group of pygmies suddenly fall over dead*