My parents cannot comprehend the fact that I vote Democratic.  “We did NOT raise you to be a Democrat,” they malign.  Of course, I quickly counter with the fact that while they did not necessarily raise me to be a “god-forsaken Democrat”, they did raise me to think for myself.  That’s exactly what I was doing when I marked my ballot for Obama. 

My parents also cannot conceive that I can make an honest living stringing words together.  Unlike moi, my dad is very left brain.  He puts the brain in brainy.  He’s analytical and he retired after 402+ years as an engineer at John Deere.  The only remotely clever thing I heard him say about John Deere was in reference to their slogan.  Once he said, “Nothing runs like a Deere … and nothing smells like a John.”  He then chuckled to himself.  Oh, that engineer humor.  There’s nothing like it. 

My dad finds humor in the goofiest things – none of which involves my writing.  My mom will cackle and chortle her way through my blogs … always a good sign.  My dad, on the other hand, will typically make a loud “sigh” after reading my handiwork and go back to watching “Fox News”. 

Growing up, I’d watch my parents very closely for any sign of laughter.  I always wondered what tickled their funny bone.  My mom would die laughing at reruns of “M*A*S*H*”.  My dad and I could never figure out what the big deal was … but would occasional laugh at her laughter.  Now my mom has discovered “Everybody Loves Raymond” – which makes her crack up.  I like to think of it as “M*A*S*H” 2.0.  Again, Dad and I don’t get necessarily get the humor. 

Last time I was home, I rented “The House Bunny”.  Not exactly family-fare fun – but I invited my folks to watch it with me.  My mom lasted about three minutes.  My dad made it a whopping six minutes before he broke out his laptop and started surfing FoxNews.com.  I will admit … the movie was insipid, but it was better than watching Fox News.  Watching paint dry is better than watching Fox and/or anything Bill O’Reilly.

I will say that my dad and I both enjoy physical comedy.  My parents’ dog Weezy can provide hours of amusement because of her sheer hyperactivity.  She’s like a mildly-retarded cheetah.  She can leap tall buildings in a single bound – typically using my mom as a springboard.  And she will even run full-tilt in to walls occasionally.  Now that’s good stuff. 

Mel Brooks once said, “Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die.”  Well, at least that’s ONE thing my dad and I can agree on – other than our love of pineapple upside down cake.