A Fireman, an Airplane Passenger, and a Trapped Office Worker Walk Into a Bar

Last night in my nonfiction writing class, the instructor was discussing how tragic events require a significant passage of time before one is able to write about them. A woman who miscarries, a victim of crime, or a soldier returning from the battlefield sometimes need years to process and to heal before they can begin to express their points of view through their writing. She used 9/11 as an example—how after a decade we are starting to see a slew of essays, books, and films on the subject, and comedians are now able to parody the events of 9/11 . . . hold on . . . whoa . . . back up, lady. WHAT?

My professor was in the middle of her lecture to the class, so I couldn't interrupt her, but I really wanted to ask her for her sources. Comedians? JOKING? About 9/11? Now, I can believe that some moron might post stupid, profanity-laced quips on his facebook page. I can imagine a group of wannabe Al-Qaedas chilling in a basement somewhere, chugging down fermented cactus juice and drunkenly bragging about all the Americans they're going to kill some day. But a professional performer attempting to find humor—even the darkest—in an event that ripped the heart out of this country? Career suicide, if you ask me.

Maybe someone is standing on a stage somewhere riffing into the mic about radical Islam or US government conspiracies or orphaned children. Perhaps a sketch comedy group in Los Angeles or Chicago or New York City really believes that there's nothing too sacred to joke about. I don't believe it. I WON'T believe it.



If you're not laughing yet, you can read my notes from a couple years ago on where I was and what went through my mind on 9/11.



Dinner last night: pork chops and stuffing

Exactly one year ago:

Chill Out, Dawg

Exactly three years ago:

Why I'm Going Grey . . .