Malignant: Lumpy Humor

Laughter Is Life

Among scads of other people, jazz jock and All Things Considered local host David Brent Johnson came into the Book Corner to visit me today. He delivered what is so far the best gag regarding my lump and all the folderol surrounding it.

The set-up: DBJ’s employer, NPR affiliate WFIU, runs daily promos asking listeners to consult with their financial advisors to set up “a planned gift or a bequest.” The station’s website offers helpful suggestions of the forms this largesse may take. You may name the station in your will, designate it as your life insurance beneficiary, and even have your retirement plan assets turned over to WFIU after you’ve departed this coil.

I’ve written this once before in this space — basically, WFIU is making the euphemistic yet still unsavory request that more accurately can be posed: Say, I hate to bring this up, but once you’re dead, can we have some of your money?

Well, DBJ insisted on giving me a big lug-hug. It worked so well, we actually did it again. Under normal circs., two guys embracing within a period of three or so minutes might lead the more suspicious among the populace to begin to gossip. It’s a testament to both of our confident natures that we were able to clasp each other so readily and publicly. Although I must admit DBJ looked mighty dashing in his stocking cap and trench coat — but that’s another matter.

Anyway, as he was leaving, DBJ stopped, turned back toward me, and said: “Maybe this is too soon, but have you considered making a planned gift or bequest to the station?”

I roared. He did too. On the other hand, the eyes of Nick, the teenaged lad who works Saturday AMs w/ me, appeared about to pop out of his head.

Don’t worry, kid, laughter’s therapeutic.

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