The Role of the Sourpuss in Historical Events

I know I’ve veered off the beaten path and into the weeds of History, and for that I sincerely apologize. This book is about research into the laughter mechanism in the body and the subtle organs that regulate it. As I’ve no doubt mentioned, the humor gland secretes a substance that enlivens the brain cells and invigorates the heart muscle. Formerly languid and depressed cells spring to life when they make contact with laughter molecules. All of this can be seen in a microscope lens if one could hold one’s head still from laughing so hard – no one can, and hence the problem.

The main purpose of the sourpuss gland is maintain balance and order, to keep the host organism from dissolving into a useless pile of jiggling meat, not to mention the various by-products and waste materials it emits. It’s only when the sourpuss gland becomes enlarged or infected that our problems begin. Let me make a point to support my thesis.

Hitler was a sourpuss of the highest degree. The only times he was ever caught smiling on camera turned out to be a reaction to gas pains he suffered as side effects from medication he was on to control his foul moods. The Nazis had it all wrong on the inhibited serotonin uptake receptor front – if you took that stuff you weren’t as depressed as before, but your intestines would cramp up and fill with explosive gas that could not be easily released. If you don’t believe me, look at Hitler’s face in 99% of the photographs you see!

The entire outcome of World War II, and thus the fate of Western Civilization, could have easily been altered had Hitler not had an overly active sourpuss gland. The side effects of the medication could have been regulated and controlled by the proper functioning of a healthy humor gland, that's a given. This means that those crowds would not only be goose-stepping and saluting in unison, but rolling in the aisles with laughter too!

“Did you hear the one about the Blond Aryan who walked into a bar? The bartender was Jewish and doubled his price! So he packed him off on a train out of the country! I mean, the Aryan packed the Jew off!”

Back then jokes about the inferior races were the only source of humor that was allowed into the country. Border guards would search up and down the halls of people’s minds, looking for jokes that might be stashed away in a closet or attic. If you were caught with a joke about the Nazi general and his baggy pants you were shot on sight! Only jokes about Jews, Gypsies and those ne’er do wells like “Einstein the Traitor” were allowed in. Those were not days of laughter and mirth in Germany, my friend. But at least after the war was over, the Germans had beer and beautiful Fraulines to come home to, where the Italians only had hand gestures. Most Italian men pleaded no contest to their draft summons anyway, claiming that they were too embarrassed to attend, even as Hitler’s invited guests. Or they were needed at the hand gesture factory, some lame excuse like that.

But the proud Germans showed up for battle, and dressed to kill if you ask me! Those stylish outfits were the envy of the Axis Proper, let me tell you. Hitler not only set the trends for crowd control, but for military style and fashion amongst the war-crazed nations of his time. Hollywood is very grateful for this, because Nazi costumes were easy to mass-produce and impossible not to spot from a mile away. The Italians never appeared in any World War II movie for reasons I’ve already outlined above.

Years later, in the early sixties, a famous actor in the US became an Italian activist of sorts. He was a student of ancient Rome and had deep respect and admiration for the rich heritage of the Italian people. He felt the pain of their humiliating experience under “the Big Moose” as he is known these days. In his heart he held a vision – to restore Italy to its former glory. To resurrect the Roman Empire in modern times. To restore the statues, the busts, and revive the whole “theme” of that period. White sheets would become the standard clothing again, and headgear made of twigs would be stylish again.

He had to start somewhere, so he started with the fledgling Italian movie industry. If “Sicilywood” could overtake Hollywood, the world would have a new trend-setter, was his logic. I can see what he was thinking now that I look back, but at the time it seemed a little weird – I mean, Baron Von Clintmeister, what’s up with all the names on the credits I can’t pronounce?

Some of those films were good, some were bad, and you know the rest so I won’t ruin the punchline. But he never succeeded at his mission – no, Hollywood remained entrenched and Sicilywood never took off as he envisioned. But neither Hollywood nor Sicilywood were prepared for where the REAL threat would come from – that’s right, Calcuttawood. (There’s also a Bombaywood that’s not quite as well funded).

The Indians in India (where else?) crank out more movies than the US and Italy combined, my friend. They have sequels over there that have spilled over into 3 digits, for crying in a crowded theatre! I find the music a little taxing, though. I love the dramatic flair, however, and yet I don’t think I could sit through the same thing more than 10 times, much less 100.

Indians in India are also going to take over the Software Industry the way the Germanic hordes overran the formerly proud nation of Transylvannia in 1004 AD. In India there are teaming hordes of PhD programmers working in cramped cubicles like a bunch of Hindu Dilberts or something. Each one of those guys puts out more lines of code than the average lazy American like me even dreams of putting out. And with pretty comments containing smiley faces too!

If Bill Gates is able to sleep at nights I would be really surprised. If I were him the haunting sounds of a shrieking Indian woman trying to approximate musical tones would keep me tossing and turning all night. Then I would hear the soundtrack of one of those movies. But instead of a passionate embrace I would see the advancing hordes of the Indians, but not the Indians Custer saw. Real Indians.

It's rare that a case of full blown paranoia can easily be justified, but this may just be one of those cases.


Maybe our friend Bill should have an extra pair of underwear on hand just in case, what do you think?