Finding the Funny

Some people might not like what I’m about to say, but here goes. Watching marginalized communities get torn apart just doesn’t sit right with me. My parents taught me early on to live and let live, to mind my own business, and to treat others how I’d want to be treated. In a world that feels so divided and angry, you have to wonder how comedians are supposed to do their jobs. How do you make people laugh when it feels like chaos is winning? And if you’re part of one of those marginalized groups, how do you get up and perform for folks who might hate you just for existing? It’s rough out there, and I wish we could get back to being a nation that lifts people up, not one obsessed with tearing each other down.
People love to tell artists and entertainers to “stay in their lane.” Don’t talk politics, just entertain. The risk, supposedly, is that you’ll lose fans if you speak up—but sometimes you gain fans, too. Either way, it’s a gamble. Part of the job is reading the room, knowing which jokes will land and which ones won’t. You also have to know your own limits—when to push, and when to pull back.
So how do you keep being funny in the middle of all this mess? Maybe it’s about remembering that humor actually brings people together. Laughter is like a release valve; it lets out the pressure before things explode. It’s those moments when people can let down their guard and just laugh, even if only for a second. But punching down—making fun of people who don’t deserve it—only adds to the problem. Personally, I’ve always found that self-deprecating humor works best. It’s honest, it’s vulnerable, and audiences respond to it.
That’s why I feel a duty to find the funny in my own life and share it. Being a ventriloquist helps—after all, you can always blame the “dummy.” It’s a bit like the old Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis dynamic. They found ways to make people laugh through tough times, like World War II and Korea. The Smothers Brothers did it during Vietnam. The “Laugh In”variety show was another example. And who could forget Sammy Davis Jr. on “All in the Family,” flipping the script on Archie Bunker with just one kiss on the cheek? That was huge in the 1970s. In the end, having a comedy partner—real or made of wood—means twice the laughs, twice the joy, and maybe, just maybe, a little more peace, love, and understanding.

Sile