I want to find some laughter. When you laugh, they can’t kill you. – Perry Farrell
Solemnity invites the fool into its cold vaunted mausoleum, feigning indignation at the clamor of bells and inappropriate mirth. The acoustics of the stone walled fortress of grief generate an echo ensuring that every disrespectful joke is heard twice by those gathered to bow their heads in mourning. This unholy disruption rouses the black-clad assembly from prayer as they flail their arms at the unwelcome guest and banish him from the crypt in a jangling cacophony.
The fool sits with his back to the door, smiling and proud of the service he performs. He knows what others are loathe to admit: pain won’t abate without the antidote of parody and death is the ultimate punchline. A job this dirty is best left to those with clear vision and boundless empathy.