The Mad and the Macabre

The best kind of laughter is the laughter of the maniacal.

The madman is the only free man.

The only freedom is absolute dissolution (disillusion?) of the self.

The best kind of laughter is that of the maniac.  His laughter is the least burdened by the presence of others, is not hindered by any construct of social behavior.  Babies laugh.  Every now and again adults laugh.  But most of the day-to-day shit isn’t funny.  As a matter of fact, it’s about as unfunny as the joke about the door who hates this joke because it only likes knock-knock jokes.  I get the crazy laughter because I’ve felt it.  You know what I think is funny?  Nihilism.  Nihilism makes me laugh out loud while walking down the road alone in a quivering, excited laugh usually reserved for the unwashed and bearded street prophets.  The fact that no thing is any one thing but just the sum of its parts and that everything you ever thought meant anything did, but only because you gave it meaning.  I mean, once you realize that nothing really matters–

–if you’re not laughing you’re crying.  We’re all insignificant and meaningless.  It’s all a big joke!  The biggest prank in the universe is letting us imagine we’re special and unique!  That’s what’s funny.  That’s what the madman laughs at.

This entry was published on July 31, 2012 at 21:59 and is filed under Prose. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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