Humor in Sad Times

By Dave Fox
March 27, 2003

I have struggled to write these past two weeks. It's been hard. For a humor writer in wartime, what is appropriate?

I began writing about the French. About how the House of Representatives cafeteria officially changed French fries to "freedom fries," and about the absurdity that a congressional committee was debating what to call a potato as our nation stood on the brink of war.

By the time my article was in shape, bombs were falling in Baghdad. French fry jokes felt insensitive.

Friends in the Middle East make peace a more personal issue.

As a travel writer, I tried to take a more serious tack and write about a dream I had. Three weeks ago, I dreamt I was in Baghdad — at a party in a hotel, surrounded by Iraqi friends.

Normal Americans don't dream about partying in Baghdad hotels, but I'm not a normal American. I've laughed with Egyptian kids in Tunisian hotels. On the streets of Istanbul, giggling nine-year-old boys have run up to me and kissed me on each cheek, the way old friends in Turkey greet each other.

I'm trained as a broadcast journalist, and I've dreamt before of reporting from Somalia and Bangladesh. So dreaming of being an off-duty reporter in Baghdad, surrounded by Iraqi friends, isn't out of the ordinary for the types of thoughts that bubble up from my subconscious when I'm sleeping.

In my dream, I was laughing together with my friends, drinking mint tea and eating pistachios. I awoke in a feverish sweat and immediately sat down to write about these figments of my imagination. The people in my dream represented thousands of good people in Iraq who were about to be "shocked and awed."

I tried several times to finish that article. I never could. I felt too sad.

I've been a news junkie since elementary school. Live television has always fascinated me. It's been hard to tear myself away this week. Friends have begged me to turn the TV off out of concern for my sanity. But I've kept it on and let it distract me as I've tried to write, afraid of missing a historic broadcasting moment — such as last week when NBC News anchor Tom Brokaw fought back tears for several minutes after interviewing the mother of an American prisoner of war.

I've watched new technologies emerge and wondered if they are good for broadcasting. The videophone lets reporters send back live pictures from the field in ways they never could before. A few nights ago, I sat glued to CNN for hours as reporter Walter Rogers rolled through the Iraqi desert on a tank in a broadcasting event he called "historic."

"Exclusive," it said at the top of the TV screen. I sat and watched — four "exclusive" hours of sand. Lots and lots of desert sand.

Little absurdities like this pop into my head as topics for humor articles. But I struggle to get past the reality that war is not funny. Lots of good people are dying — needlessly, I believe.

I have friends who have grown up in war zones. Some of them are Americans now. They survived experiences unthinkable to most of us. Although they survived childhood at war, as adults they struggle with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They have nightmares. They jump at loud noises. They love their American freedom, but on the Fourth of July, they stay home and cry, frightened by the sound of fireworks. Many American soldiers have experienced the same afflictions. Many more will.

These are the kinds of casualties we don't hear about on the news. You have to talk to people who have been there.

For many weeks, I've had an anti-war statement on my website. I know I'm in the minority in the US. I've been surprised no one has complained.

I've wondered, is my humor website — a place where people come for laughter and escape — an appropriate place to protest the war? Appropriate or not, it's where my voice is loudest. Morally, I have felt obliged to express my dissent.

I am angered by people who suggest you can't be against the war and support the troops at the same time. I have tremendous appreciation for the soldiers who have volunteered to defend our country. I appreciate that they are doing what they are supposed to — following orders. It's the orders I disagree with.

It's easy to say you believe in peace, but harder to know realistically when to draw the line. Saddam Hussein is a dangerous man. There might have come a time when I would have supported a military strike. But only in the case of clear and imminent threat. With UN weapons inspectors in Iraq, I don't believe the threat was imminent.

I believe the weapons inspections were slowly working. I believe they were frustrating as hell. But I would rather sit around and be frustrated, and be patient, than be the instigator in a situation with guaranteed civilian casualties.

I am puzzled by war supporters who suggest I'm a bad American for not standing behind my president. America is not supposed to be a country where we all support the same ideology. I don't want to live in a nation where we all follow our leader blindly. That's not a democracy.

I apologize for getting political here. As a humor writer, my job is to make people laugh. But as a person morally opposed to violence except in the most extreme cases, and a person who believes the situation in Iraq had not yet reached that threshhold, I've had to speak out. I haven't been able to write humor this week. It didn't feel right, without at least acknowledging the sadness in the world.

I was having dinner with a friend last week who asked me, "You know how we have all of these war correspondents?"

"Yes," I said.

"How come we don't have peace correspondents?" she asked.

I guess that's what I'm trying to be right now.

In a way, this article is more for me than for you. I'm writing it because I don't know how else to get past my writer's block. I want to keep writing humor. I need humor right now. I think we all do. Life needs to continue. So thanks for letting me vent. I couldn't be funny without acknowledging the sadness. Now that I have done that, I will try to resume my search for absurdity.

Next week is the second anniversary of davethefox.com. To celebrate, I am going to have the first (and possibly last) annual Davethefox 24-Hour Trivia Contest. You can win fun and fabulous prizes, including a million dollars and an omelette. It's free to play. And it's more interesting than four hours of exclusive sand.

Thoughtful responses are welcome. Send them to letters@davethefox.com. E-mail sent to this address becomes the property of davethefox.com and might be used online unless you request otherwise. Letters may be edited for space or clarity. Please include your first name and city.