Do you ever wonder if you're a horrible person? Well, I don't have to wonder. I know. About myself, I mean. I have no idea if you are horrible. That's between you and God.
If you're nice, or, at least, attempting to be nice, you're probably saying I can't be that bad. You've probably read many of the hilarious things I've written over the years and, therefore, want to give me the benefit of the doubt.
Rest assured, there are plenty of horrible people who have terrific senses of humor. I mean, did you see OJ Simpson in the Naked Gun movies? Right, more stupid than hilarious. But think about Hitler. You think he didn't know how funny it sounds when you're screaming at people in German? He knew.
And there's my first example of why I'm a horrible person. I just used one of history's worse offenders to make a joke and get a ridiculous point across. That had to have crossed some kind of line.
Example 2: I laugh at inappropriate times. But not just that, I laugh at small children.
I was observing the first grade class the other day. And it was a pretty typical day. A kid who is notorious for talking back to his teacher and is constantly out of his seat fell down. But the way he fell was epic. It's the kind of thing that would have gone viral on YouTube (which would just serve to prove how many of us are horrible people). Somehow he tripped over his own chair and did a face plant. He lay on the floor for a good 30 seconds, unmoving. His legs and arms were all splayed out, as if he were preparing for the CSI guys to show up and make a chalk outline.
My first impulse was to laugh. Is that so wrong? He wasn't crying. So he wasn't hurt. And he didn't even fake cry to make it seem like he was hurt. I'm sure that, as he prepared to stand back up, he knew that if he had been sitting in his chair, as the teacher had asked him multiple times to do, he would still be sitting safely. By the way, his teacher had to stifle a laugh too.
The final example I have today involves a sign in front of a local church. That's right, not only will I joke about Hitler, but I'll border on blasphemy. The sign spelled out, in bright colors, "Jesus is the answer!"
You know me. You know I love Jesus. I think Jesus is every possible kind of awesome. But at that moment, all I could think was, "What if the question is 'what is two times two?'" I'm sorry, but the answer isn't Jesus. It's four.
I want to be a teacher someday. Sooner than later. And at some point, I'm going to give my students a test. If I ever have a student who writes "Jesus" as the answer to any given question, they will at least get partial credit. 'Cause Jesus is the answer.
How 'bout it? Am I as horrible as I think?