Just Too Normal

I watched "The Life and Death of Peter Sellers" last night, and it made me realize something: I'm far too normal to ever be a comedian. All the truly great comedic minds have been really messed up guys. Well, either that, or they had some horribly traumatic experience at some point in their lives. Jim Carrey, Bill Cosby, John Candy, Chris Farley, John Belushi, Woody Allen, Andy Kaufman, and Peter Sellers were all troubled in some way. Comedy is the one industry in which a normal, well-adjusted upbringing is generally considered a bad thing. Well, I'm royally screwed, because I'm not troubled AT ALL. Besides, I'm nowhere near depressed or moody enough. I've got the neuroticism down, but I'm still too even-keeled for that to matter. This realization is depressing me, though. With my background, I think I'm being psychologically prepared for nothing less than a dynamic career in sod-laying, or maybe as a toner salesman, or I might just break into the wonderful world of professional boring people, whom you hire to clear a room after wedding receptions. Is it wrong for me to wish I could get diagnosed with some sort of disease or neurotic disorder? Or maybe just have some sort of traumatic encounter with a mugger and/or transvestite ice cream salesman? Something. Anything. I don't want to grow up to be a paper consultant, or a felt-tip pen salesman. I might just be forced to kill someone and do a little hard time, just for the surely traumatic experience of living in prison.