I Don't Like April Fools.

Part of the Personal Passions collection.

It feels like blasphemy to say this, and I know my family is gasping and clutching their chests for air seeing this email notification, but waking up at 5:45 and slowly sipping on my coffee it had to be said: I, the Certified Silly Individual™ as I’m known by most people, no longer like April Fool’s Day.

I understand the Catholics just mourned a guy who died for some ideal or another that he believed in, so I’ll bandwagon on that and explain myself.

So, I’m a silly guy. Perhaps, a little wacky. Goofy, the scholars might even say. April Fools is the one time of year anyone would expect me to thrive. After all, I’m like this all year round! Surely this would be my day to cut loose, right? But that’s just it- I’m like this all year round. I may be Silly Certified, but that master’s degree comes out when it feels like it. It’s not something to be necessarily summoned at will. Thus, if I don’t have the sauce in reserve on April 1st, I just… don’t have it. You can’t rush art.

And yet, that can’t be all of it. Sure, I may be out of juice on the day everyone’s expecting me to be fully charged, creating an environment of internalized and unrealistic expectations before anyone’s ever opened their mouths, but I can laugh at the goofs and gaffs still. That’s not something that goes away, it’s not like everyone suddenly stops being funny to me because I might have low funny reserves. There’s few things I love more in this life than experiencing others try to bring the goofs- and perhaps even the gaffs as well- to create the good times the way I try to. I always love funny. I mean, going on a tangent, pranks are a little fifty-fifty. “Haha you got fooled and your silliness is what people are laughing at now” never really felt good to me. Ah, god forbid I let my guard down among friends and believe the first thing I see because life is exhausting and I look for whatever scarce opportunities I can to stop thinking and stop scanning my immediate surroundings for landmines that will detonate and explode my self-esteem for the rest of the day. That never feels nice. Ah, sorry for the tangent, where was I?

Oh, right.
Oh.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

Yeah, I have to be on my guard for a day. Even more than usual in this hellscape of modern life. That’s just not fun. That’s about it.

So why do I feel so unsatisfied writing this? Am I truly so worried about how this comes across? Do I really feel like I’m being a party pooper on the Day of The Funny just by admitting I’m not into the style of humor that it brings? How can I possibly be so far up my own ass that I feel my opinion being shared has the weight to bring the whole mood down for everyone? That can’t possibly be it, can it? Hold on, let me withdraw inward and figure out the answer real quick.
Hm…

Ohhhh.
Ohhhhh, I did it again, didn’t I…?

Right, so, where does this leave us now? Uh… don’t be a jerk about your April Fools pranks? Think about the sense of humor your target carries first? Yeah, I… I guess that’s it. But is it? Is that really a satisfying place to end off? Am I really going to just admit I rely on rhetorical questions too much in my prose, answering my own prompts to puff up how intelligent I look in creating bits? Am I really going to go for the triple on this bit, bringing it full circle without actually giving it a satisfying conclusion or

Cheers,

from The CrystalPunk
(He, whose body worships at the holy altar of high caffeine quantities)