Why I Hate Witty People

Oscar Wilde - The Queen of Wit
Oscar Wilde – The Queen of Wit

The definition of wit arose in a discussion I had the other night over beer and hamburgers. As a general rule, I’m against wit when meat, cheese and hops are involved as the effort is rarely remembered the following day since the recipients of the wit are either still stewing in their cholesterol-induced brain swell or just hungover. I, personally, have yet to ponder someone’s witticism from the night before while my head is dangling over the porcelain throne, so I’m assuming no one else does either.

Truth be told, I’m rarely witty whether or not beef and Budweiser is being consumed. Why, you ask? Clearly, I’m a mammoth of intellectual funny-isms or you wouldn’t be reading this blog. The problem is that I’m slow to wit. I come up with clever epigrams approximately fifty-one minutes after the witty comment would have been appropriate. Granted, my observations are often much more adroit than the retorts made by my compatriots at the time, but they’re late. Way late. Running-out-to-the-24-hour-pharmacy-in-the-middle-of-the-night-to-buy-a-pregnancy-test late. This is fine if you’re writing a column or posting on Facebook, but I suspect that my friends may wonder if I’ve hired a ghost writer exclusively for those purposes because in person, my comments often tend to invoke the nervous laughter that is only uttered when others are uncomfortable or feel obligated to do something other than stare. You know what I’m talking about. Pity laughter – the awkward chuckle often heard in funeral parlors as friends and loved ones discuss zany things the deceased used to do when they weren’t so…well, dead.

Until recently, however, I’d always thought I was witty. Like everyone, I would have, on occasion, a particular good evening. During these rare events, droll observations would drip off my lips like drool off a St. Bernard’s muzzle. Strangers would contemplate inviting me to dinner parties in the future. I basked in the glow of my sheer cleverness. My friends, on the other hand, would shrug and finally credit the alcohol. When I was having an off night (which in reality was a typical night), I consoled myself with the knowledge that I would write something incredibly astute and hilarious at a later date. Something that would be published. Something that would one day appear in quote books or, alternatively, quote websites or quote clouds as physical books will probably be extinct by the time I’m dead – and everyone knows the most surefire way to be included in a collection of quotes is to be dead first.

But back to the other night. A typical night, I might add, made even more typical by the fact that I was dining with a woman who has more degrees than a thermometer and was educated in Britain, the Birthplace of Wit; a gay man (Oh, step off your PC soapbox – if a gay man could carry a child in the uterus he doesn’t have, he would also be the Birthplace of Wit!) and my husband, perhaps one of the funniest people on the planet. I didn’t have a chance in hell. And they were talking about France and things that are French. If I was Sarah Palin, I’d tell you that I’ve been to France. But the truth is that I had a two hour layover in the Charles de Gaulle airport on the way to London. I did buy a baguette with brie on it and some Loreal hair conditioner, but I don’t think that truly constitutes having experienced the City of Lights. Unless, as I pointed out, you’re Sarah Palin – and then you wouldn’t have to buy a sandwich or hair products. You’d just claim you could see the Eiffel Tower from your First Class seat and go back to reading your magazine, the name of which would escape you.

Sarah Palin’s View from Her Seat on the Plane

My gay friend lived in Paris for several years, and my uber-educated friend is one of those artsy-types with an obsession for obscure European facts. My sole comment during this portion of the conversation consisted of something like, “What do you expect? They’re French.” This is my go-to statement when chatter turns to things francais because it applies universally. Doesn’t matter if you’re discussing the French’s attitude towards their politicians’ mistresses, their penchant for smoking from the time they can sit upright in a pram, or their insistence upon putting mushrooms in absolutely everything they cook. The easiest response for one who can’t come up with something witty is to simply chime in, “What do you expect? They’re French.” Following said statement with a knowing chortle is completely optional.

Grateful as I was when the discussion turned away from French cinema, I was disturbed when it turned to the topic of wit, generating a lively debate surrounding the word’s definition. Now, I’ve always ascribed to what is generally considered to be the most common definition of the word – at least according to those silly books that collect such information, a.k.a. dictionaries – and they define wit as “the natural ability to perceive and understand; intelligence.” As I have been perceiving and understanding things since I was knee-high to Tom Cruise, I was confident that I fit the bill. Hell, I possess a very expensive advanced degree and I’ve never failed a test in my life. Okay, that’s not completely true. I actually failed my first driver’s test, but I was set-up and, anyway, I totally aced the written portion. As I was saying, arbitrary tests that don’t involve operating something with a carburetor concede that I qualify as an intelligent human being. Then again, poop-throwing in chimps is considered a sign of intelligence, so the bar can’t be all that high.

A Really Smart Chimp

Our dinner companions – my husband excluded as he does have to live with me – insisted that wit involves a timing component, and argued that if brilliance doesn’t strike as swiftly as lightning, it might as well not bother to strike at all. Granted, some dictionaries list “quickness of perception” or an ability for repartee or banter in their definitions of wit. But it’s never the first definition. It’s not the primary definition. Heck, on one website, it was subsection (d) of the third definition. Regardless, it was the meaning of choice for my friends. (And may I point out here and now that my gay friend is the same friend who once erroneously claimed that The Osmonds outsold Sonny and Cher in their heyday, so his perception is clearly warped). But, as former employer of mine used to say ad nauseum, “Perception is everything.” You can’t be witty in a vacuum. Wit requires an audience. In my case, I thought an audience of people with nothing better to do than read my meanderings was sufficient, but that evening I was informed that it was not the same. Apparently, in the Aesop fable, wit is the rabbit and the old adage of “slow and steady wins the race” doesn’t apply. My humor is the turtle and muddling along at a consistent pace just doesn’t cut it. Wit isn’t a marathon; it’s a sprint. If I can’t swiftly enunciate a zinger or amuse dinner guests with banter worthy of a Nora Ephron film, I might as well don a dunce cap and resign myself to eating Taco Bell in dark room by myself – maybe with with Carrot Top if I’m lucky. Actually, I think I’d rather eat alone. At least I’m funny on paper.

For days now, I’ve wallowed in this pit of dullard despair until someone recognized by millions as being remarkably witty – in fact, he’s paid quite a lot of money to be witty – appeared to take up my case. In a recent HBO special, comedian Ricky Gervais suggested that Oscar Wilde, the Godfather of Wit, also suffered from Dilatory Epigram Syndrome. When asked by a customs official if he had anything to declare, Wilde famously stated, “Only my intelligence.” Gervais suggested that the retort had probably occurred to Wilde sometime after an earlier encounter with a customs official. You know, one of those, “Damn! I should have said this!” moments. I know those moments well. Really well. Not on a first name basis well, but on a secret-birthmarks-that-no-one-else-knows-about well. According to Gervais, once Wilde had that moment, he stored it up and waited, crouched like a spider ready to attack. Please ask me if I’ve something to declare, he would think to himself. And finally, someone did. Wilde declared his genius. Then he died. Now he’s got entire books of quotes devoted entirely to things he allegedly said or wrote.

Ricky Gervais – Oscar Wilde Scholar

This may shatter many people’s perception of Wilde as the erudite dinner guest who spit out impromptu witticisms the way Americans spit out haggis into their napkins in a Scottish pub. If his initiation of a clever comment was machine gun rapid, I’ve always fantasized Wilde’s voice as luxuriously slow and languid. When he opened his mouth to speak, I imagine the guests’ forks would hover inches below their mouths because whatever choice bite was to emerge from Wilde’s lips was certainly tastier than anything on their plates. However, Gervais’ view suggests that the playwright and poet may have practiced his quips religiously in his state room, pacing the short length of the carpet reciting the verbal gems he would deliver should the appropriate question be offered. Perhaps he scribbled down all the things he wished he’d said at the previous evening’s dinner party into a little notebook, then rattled them off as soon as the opportunity arose again later in the week.

Oscar Wilde – Godfather of Wit

During the Victorian era, the issues of politics, English society, literature and the arts, and religion were popular topics in dining and drawing rooms all over Britain. It would have been easy for Wilde to anticipate future conversations and arm himself accordingly, loading his quips like bullets into a pistol and pulling the trigger whenever appropriate. When the subject of the Americas or politics was broached, he could rattle off, “Democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people, by the people, for the people,” a statement which would have signaled uproarious laughter and tittering at any Victorian table. If the topic turned to fellow playwright, critic and frequent dinner guest, George Bernard Shaw, Wilde may have been well-prepped when he slung this backhanded compliment: “Bernard Shaw is an excellent man; he has not an enemy in the world, and none of his friends like him.” In a closed society, self-described by Wilde as one in which one only “has either to feed people, amuse people, or shock people…” in order to be admitted, amusing the cream of London society would have been a priority in order to ensure his continued success, both socially and financially.

So to those friends of mine whose synapses fire away quickly over appetizers, leaving the rest of us behind in a haze of smoke and clever diatribes, I say,” Erm…hold on second. It’s right on the tip of my tongue. Just give me a second. No, really. This is going to be hilarious.” Forget it, I’ll get back to you in about fifty-one minutes and when I do, prepare to die. Or maybe you’ll just blush or giggle or get a little embarrassed because I did it in print. Online. And everyone who knows me also knows who you are, so it kinda sucks for you, really. But I will do it. I’ll be witty and you’ll rue the day you ever said I wasn’t.  The slow and steady spirit of Oscar Wilde inhabits me. Can I say that it’s a little uncomfortable because he was a large man? An awfully large man.

250 thoughts on “Why I Hate Witty People

  1. Great post. I don’t know, though. Does wit need an audience? I think that if you have a self-deprecating sense of humor, you don’t need an audience. I amuse myself all of the time. But, perhaps I am confusing stupidity for wit.

    1. I don’t think wit needs an audience. I’m constantly informed it’s the lowest form of humour, regardless; it puts the edge of intelligence on an art form that can sometimes be a bit weightless or transparent.

      1. Isn’t it sarcasm that’s the lowest form of wit and humour? I figure wit, like most forms of humour, needs an audience to appreciate it – even if the audience is only the voices in your own head.

        As a side note, I think it very important to have a certain arsenal of witticisms, that can be easily applied or adapted. Also, talking to oneself is very useful for mastering tone and delivery.

        It’s for this reason people I meet for the first time think I’m a riot (in the good way) and people who know me avoid me.

      2. Not that being a standup comic bestows any authority on me, but deconstructing what’s funny is an exercise in futility. At worst, it’s elitist. Humor is cultural and subjective (but we can agree that poop jokes are uninspired.)

  2. Thanks Jumping in Mud Puddles. This is my first blog and your encouragement is greatly appreciated. You pose an excellent question. Does wit need an audience? Reminds me of the classic metaphysical quandary pondered by philosophers for centuries: If the Queen farts and there’s no one around to hear her (and she’s a really old queen and legally deaf), does the fart still make that pfffft sound? I suppose if the queen in question wasn’t deaf, then she would hear her own fart, titter, then fart again just for kicks, thereby amusing herself. Applying this analysis to your question, I suppose wit can survive with only an audience of one, though I suspect the wit will be thin, pale and introverted. It’s important to be able to laugh at yourself. More importantly, it’s important to stop laughing at yourself while eating (you could choke), at funerals (during which you can offer pity laughter in response to stories about the deceased) and when shown ugly baby photos. As you have a self-deprecating sense of humor, I suggest that you share it. Fatten that wit of yours up, give it a tan and get it out there snarking it up with others. I guarantee you’ll still be amused.

    1. This can not be your first blog. It’s far too witty and engaging.
      Loved it.

      And I, too, have witty moments and days… other times I worry I have the wrong friends… because they don’t laugh at everything I say.

      1. I hate myself for being witty on the verge of getting beaten up by someone! I have the same problem too. People seem to get offended, almost always. Too bad! But i dont worry that i have the wrong friends…i just wonder how the hell i landed with people who are much humourless and more dumber than my pet hamster!

    2. Well, for your first blog this is pretty awesome. You should not waited this long and denied the blogworld the pleasure of experiencing your ‘wit-isms’- anyhow, late is better than never 🙂

      Keep writing please!

    1. Lovely. French is one of the few languages in which you can tell someone to fuck off and leave them smiling. Come to think of it, Oscar Wilde would have probably said something a bit more British. Perhaps: “Bloody hell! I should have declared my genius. Absolutely brilliant.” Then he would have eaten a crumpet.

    2. The English translation is “staircase wit”, which I like as well. You’ve just left the dinner party, stand at the foot of the stairs and *smack* the ideal response dances a little jig inside your head, mocking your slowness.

    1. Why thank you and thanks for visiting my blog! I guess I’m a bit of an expert when it comes to courtesy laughs having been the recipient of so many. Wow. How pathetic am I? Thanks again – you’re too kind. 🙂

  3. You embrace snark AND you are taller than average?!?! Are you my sister from another mother?

    (Seriously: Check out my “About” page — I’m fairly confident I mention both as descriptors of myself…)

    Love this post. Love the snarky Sarah Palin line. Love the evident WIT that lies herein!


  4. Well that was just awesome! I loved every word of this post. My problem is that at some point in my youth (probably early high school), I was described as funny by my peers. Since that time, I have done everything in my power to remain in that light. Unfortunately, since I am in fact not all that funny, I find myself speaking very infrequently when in group settings, so as not to say something unfunny and be revealed as the fraud I am.

      1. nothing wrong with self-loathing. it’s a motivational, albeit vicious, cycle. i love wit and sarcasm! what a great blog to come back to often. i’m sure that attorney thing helps with that too–not that i know anything about that…

  5. I’ve always thought wit had varying roles and forms—it can be both written and verbal, and timing is relative to the format. I, too, think better on paper and with a little time to spare, and I don’t consider myself to be any less witty than my chatty friends. 🙂

    Speaking of Wilde (and Paris), as he lay dying in a crummy flat on the less fashionable side of the river Seine with his friends gathered around him, the story is that his last words were, “Boys, either these curtains go, or I do.” I have to admit, I envy the ability to utter one with perfect timing like that. Fun post!

  6. Personally, I like Dorothy Parker’s definition–or distinction, at least:

    “There’s a hell of a distance between wise-cracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wise-cracking is simply calisthenics with words.”

  7. It is merely a fine line which separates stupidity from wit. Too much alcohol makes witty people seem stupid and just enough alcohol makes stupid people seem witty… Here’s to living in a very witty world.

  8. Who cares if you’re not witty? You are an AMAZING writer! Amazing! Really. I love it when I read something instead of scanning it which is very rare for me considering I have a really short attention span. I love the rich similies and the colourful array of words. Although just to offer up some constructive critisism (although I am vastly unaccomplished by comparison) I thought the second last paragraph was slightly verbose – as though you were digressing from your opinion of wit and into Oscar Wilde’s history just a tad much. Though I may be wrong. Just my personal opinion. 🙂

    1. Wait…I thought Facebook was for publicly discussing your divorce and Twitter was for stalking celebrities…

      I guess I haven’t been doing it wrong after all!

  9. Delightfully funny reading! Quite witty as well. Now, if only I could come up with a great witty comment in follow-up to your post. I’m afraid I’ll need more time…

    Perhaps there’s an iPhone app for witty comebacks and comments?

  10. Enjoyed this immensely. I’m very witty in my head and also long after the conversation is over. Facebook, Twitter, and blogging helps to sharpen it I think.

  11. I started reading this post. I was enthralled and would love to continue but I’ll be late for work. So I guess I’ll be reading your 51 minute delayed wit, with a 9 hour work delay over the top. I’ll be back.

    BTW, I could use someone with your wit to know how I’m going to use the words moose, oozy and combobulate all in one blog post.

    1. NEVER combobulate with an oozy moose! Of all the preceding discourse, surely this alone merits commemoration in the form of a bumper sticker.

  12. “If I was Sarah Palin, I’d tell you that I’ve been to France.” ~ probably my favourite line in the whole post. Absolutely hilarious!

    Congrats on being Freshly Pressed! 🙂

    1. You’re too kind. The Freshly Pressed thing is freaking me out. I feel like I found a prize in a Cracker Jack box. Wait, there’s always a prize in those, aren’t there? Anyway, I’m really psyched!

  13. I am usually slow to wit unless I have had a glass of wine; then I think I am really funny! I do love to write humorous posts as well.
    Regardless of whether you can think fast on your feet, you are funny on paper!
    Congrats on being Freshly Pressed!

  14. I confess, that I do not feel smart, witty or blessed with any sense of humor, most of the time.
    My way of coping with it, though, is to pretend, that I am.
    Nobody even notices the difference, probably they’re far to busy with pretending it, too. 🙂 LOL

  15. This post is very awesome and very accurate. Either you wrote this article after fifty-one minutes after or after couple of months thinking about the words 😀 In any case it is an amazing composition of words.
    You are not alone facing these kind of situations. I can come up with all sorts of witty line and come backs but only after the moments has passed and its expiry time has arrived.

    Keep it up 😀

  16. Along with the fact that we have the same blog template, I had to keep checking the by-line to make sure I (abnormally tall woman seeking literary representation who has to silently converse with herself to even hope to be funny) didn’t write this post.

  17. I, too, have a horrible case of “after-wit” as I like to call it. For me its those moments lying in bed waiting for sleep that I’m struck with brilliance. But I’m liking your take on it. We of the after-wit will prevail slowly and steadily! Congrats for getting Freshly Pressed! I’ll have to be checking back here to see more excellent posts.

  18. I, as well, suffer from the aforementioned affliction and used to beat myself up about it, or Oscar Wilde myself. Then I read Ursula LeGuin’s Catwings and I saw myself in this passage, “It took a while for the Owl to understand this. Owl is not a quick thinker. She is a long thinker.” Wisdom versus wit. OK, if I have to choose between fast or deep, I can live with slow… as long as I’ve got deep as my backup.

    Also, I thinking comedy writers would probably agree with your definition rather than that of your dinner companions. If everyone could easily engage in witty, non-stop repartee then those writers would be out of work. Right?

  19. Hysterical! I’ve suffered frequently from delayed-wit (well, the delay was face-saving purely – any immediate ‘wit’ would not have been witty at all) plus I’ve always suspected what you expose here about Oscar Wilde. Thanks for this fantastic read!

  20. Coming up with the appropriate witty response almost an hour later is a perfect example of human nature. Someone zings us, and the “I should’a said” section of our brain starts working overtime. We run thousands of possible responses and “DING” about one hour later we come up with the perfect thing that SHOULD have been said.

    Seinfeld did a great episode about this very subject.

    The trick is to attract as many insults and quips to yourself as possible. Buy some little file cards at Staples and write down all the great responses….then carry around a small box with these cards for every occasion, whip em out and zip em off the next time someone gets smart with you. Sure you’ll look like an ass…but a great comeback at the right time can be totally worth it.

  21. What a cool topic to explore. Thank you. I too used to feel badly too that I was not quick. For a couple of weeks in my early adulthood I idolized Oscar Wilde, memorized lines from the Importance of Being Earnest before spending time with individuals superior to myself. When I began to note people don’t really like witty folks, it was an enormous relief. If your goal is to win friends and influence people dullness may actually be preferable to a razor sharp wit. At least that’s been my experience.

  22. I have been accused of being witty. In reality I just talk a lot and if you talk enough surely eventually something you say is going to be funny…to someone anyway. Still, I get accused of being witty. Recently I was compared to Lil Wayne…I am so good with words, apparently, that I am like Lil Wayne. Ummm… I have nothing positive to say to that. So if thinking things through makes you embodiment of Oscar Wilde and being quick witted makes you the embodiment of Lil Wayne…you clearly win. Keep thinking things through. Eventually the rest of us will shut up long enough to notice someone else was being hilarious.

  23. “I might as well don a dunce cap and resign myself to eating Taco Bell in dark room by myself”

    Wit is best tested while on your own: if you are the only person in the room and you think you’re funny, that means 100% of your audience finds you witty. And you have Taco Bell. Humour is all about percentages.

    Congratulations on being Freshly Pressed!

  24. A dissertation on the subject of wit. Who would have thought? Brilliant. In this age of reduced wattage too.

  25. Love the post! Everyone has their strengths. Mine is the conversational zinger – alcohol consumption just increases this ability! However, I struggle to find a witty, or even apt, analogy when writing. Must come from different parts of the brain. I often question why I can dish out clever repartee in the moment and have my cohorts laughing hysterical at my quips, yet can’t imbue my writing with that same biting wit. Sigh……

  26. *Thinking to self, ‘Wit….to wit…where is it?’, scrambles around frantically searching for IT…’Where did I put it?’…looking in drawers and files thinking, ‘sheesh she is BRILLIANT!’…looks around in absolute dumbfounded terror….*

    Cristy Carrington Lewis….AWE-AND-THEN-SOME!\m/^_^\m/!!!!!! *rocks out*

  27. Nice post! Though I think part of your issue might be solved by considering that the reason that there are a few definitions of ‘wit’ in the dictionary is that they apply to at least two different social phenomenons. The first one you highlighted, being intelligent and perceiving, is that of the wit in ‘witless’ ‘lackwit’ or ‘out of your wits’. As you mentioned, it refers to intelligence.

    The wit attributed to Oscar Wilde (and yourself, I would argue), however, is one of a different stripe and refers to that sort of banter Wilde was famous for. What your friends are missing out on, however, is that wit can be either written or spoken. There doesn’t have to be a time element involved in written wit (for obvious reasons). It is merely the capacity to be good with words.

    So, while you may be a bit slow on the uptake in the verbal witticisms department, it appears that you are richly endowed in the realm of written repartee. It might also interest you to know that a good deal of the ‘witty’ quotes attributed to Wilde, Mark Twain, and other assorted badasses was mostly taken from their written works:P

    “I always take my journal with me when I travel. One always needs something sensational to read on the train”

    ~Oscar Wilde from The Importance of Being Earnest.

  28. I love your take on wit. I can relate to delayed retorts when in social gatherings. Often when I am out with friends and the “banter’ starts I fall behind. I sit and listen and respond where appropriate and take notes on what I should have said. I think I will have to take a note from your post and start writing these down. Maybe I should keep a little pocket sized note pad and use it as soon as something comes to mind. I figure is someone asks I will just say “I’ll tell you later”, and leave it at that.

  29. I have nothing witty to say at this point but give me a few days and I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, love this post and your blog. And your wit. I think that delayed wit is far better than delayed laughter (when you get a joke you heard the day before in a situation not at all related or in which laughter would be socially acceptable). They say that revenge is a dish best served cold…well, wit can stand a little chilling, too. Humor is like chocolate: it’s always a good time for some.

    1. I totally agree with you on the delayed gratification. You’re probably not old enough to remember the ketchup commercial accompanied by the song that went, “An-tic-i-pay-ay-shun, it’s making me wait.” I do and that is now my motto. Mostly because now I can’t get that stupid song out of my head.

  30. I was sitting in an account review with my three supervisors when one said “You should be a stand up!” commenting on how I was snarky, sarcastic and witty. I have never said anything funny to him again. Curses!!!!

    Now I have nothing…

  31. LMAO!! Omg I absolutely loved this post. You are hilarious and damn witty. And such a good writer. Congrats on getting Freshly Pressed, you deserve it! 🙂

  32. Congrats on being Freshly Pressed. Oh the wit of the English.
    Ricky Gervais the Oscar Wilde of our generation? Hmmm….
    I often think of witty things to say alone in my bathroom while blow drying my hair. Is sarcasm the same as wit? If so, then I am incredibly witty.

  33. I told the bartender here at “The Burren” (Shane…actuallly from Ireland but we’re in Cambridge, MA where all the people who don’t have to fake wit come to escape those that do) “the food here is so good that I feel guilty about only paying seven bucks for it before 5pm…he said: “I could charge you more…” I said: “no thanks…it’s ok…I’m in therapy…” ha ha…right? May not be good but it happened on the spot and I hadn’t thought of it even though I’d had so many opportunities to memorize clever quips during my Ambassador to Nowhere days….then…after I finished my meal and was headed to the mensroom to celebrate having eaten every last crumb and licked the bowl…I stopped to say to Shane…”hey! now I’m fat and my imaginary girlfriend will never tolerate that…I may sue you for promoting obesity…or atleast complain bitterly every day for a long time…” he said: “don’t bother…she’ll never show up…” I said: “oh yeah smart guy…well, I really do have an imaginary girlfriend and everything I made up about her is true…” then I strode triumpantly into the men’s room and farted with absolutely zero self consciousness….

  34. You described me in your first paragraph. I always come up with the witty stuff an hour or sometimes in the middle of the night, or the next morning. There really is no helping me.

  35. The only downside to wit is the large gap between how many are actually witty and how many people think they are witty (especially over beer and burgers). You most definitely fit in the first class. This was humorous and enormously entertaining.


  36. Ha! I waited for almost four years for someone to use the word ‘asinine’ in my presence in a legitimate way so that I could point, laugh, and exclaim ‘You said Asinine!’ after a comic my friends and I had read in High school. It took four years, but it happened. I was so happy I could barely get the words out.

  37. I found this very interesting, especially having just read today an essay by Mark Twain called “How To Tell a Story.” (Yes, I confess, I teach American Lit.) This essay distinguishes between comedy and humor. I’d say wit falls into the humor category. Check it out; you might find it encouraging.

    And family is rarely supportive. I’m told frequently by mine, “We’ll do the jokes, mom.”

  38. I am a “Fair weather friend” wit. If I am with someone funny it brings out my humor side. If with a serious type I’ll go for the intellectual part of the brain. I guess I’m like the character in Woody Allen’s movie, Zelig about the guy who blends in, chameleon-like and wants to look and sound like the others…..


    1. In my case, my wit is the fair weather friend. You know, I’ve never seen Zelig, but it’s been advertised quite a bit on television recently. I’m gonna have to check it out. Thanks for reminding me. And thanks for checking out my blog. 🙂

  39. That is true,Cristy. As an author and business man, I can relate to how you said, “The definition of wit arose in a discussion I had the other night over beer and hamburgers”. I hope more people discover your blog because you really know what you’re talking about. Can’t wait to read more from you!

  40. I like your style; I too am taller than the average woman and work in the legal field. Must be part of some secret genetic code that makes certain people superior bloggists. Or just really sarcastic with a good hold on English vocabulary. Either way, I like how you write!

  41. For what it’s worth, I think you’re witty. Also, I don’t agree with your friends at all. A quick, lightning speed zinger is one way of being witty, your well-thought out and pithy writing is another. I don’t think wit has a shelf life at all- leave alone a short one.

  42. I agree, I hate witty people just a bunch of snobs who think they have a sense of humor. You know what else is funny?……..farting, and everyone finds it so hilarious despite how stupid it is. Another example of humor?…….. Grandma’s Boy and that is not really that smart. But you wanna know what snobs think they’re funny, nerds like Bill Maher and that guy is an asshole first and not funny.

    My point has been made

  43. A wane smile at best. Lawyers tend to be too serious, and mistake their sarcasm for wit.

    Remove all barbs from your harpoon and toss it as if aimless. It will be amusing whether it hits or not. If you throw with aim and gusto and miss or are deflected you will look the fool. If successful with a solid barbed hit you will just appear mean. A good wit will put a smile on the face of everyone, even the target. A practicing blogger. pg

  44. I am wittless, although I love a good laugh. I would LOVE to be witty, it’s just not in my genetic make-up. I think you’re quite witty however, and hey, unlike you’re mates, you’ve been able to store it up and write it down. You know have an indelable imprint that shouts out… screw you, I’m witty too. “So there” (that last one was directed at your brittish friend).

  45. I write a blog called “Whitticisms” because of my last name. But really, in conversation I’m also witless. I am so thankful for a blog where I can eventually write something I kid myself into thinking is rather…well…whitty.

  46. Oh, I’m with you! How embarrassing come back with a sharp remark an hour and the whole fun later, huh? I also realized wit takes practice, so I’ve been writing small humorous/sarcastic stories (I’m a fanfction writer) and even started an original series about a workaholic – funny and a bit sad. You know what? You practice and hone your wit skill – and it starts coming to you! I swear, it’s like a wit muscle you need to exercise regularly.
    And then… Gosh, how’bout all those people who can pull a wit without breaking into sweat? They’re so blessed, and most of the time they don’t even realize it! How fair is that, LOL?

  47. I do not share your sentiments as I am one of the lucky(?) people who have the remarks leave their lips before they could even consider them, and I do believe it is tough to be too slow, but blimey do you regret saying things you haven’t thoroughly considered beforehand. There are those glorious moments when I’m being told with awe, ‘Quelle panache!’, but there is also the embarrassment of a remark to shrewd (or too stupid) for others to appreciate and the complete social disasters when the remark that was supposed to witty is perceived as too harsh, arrogant, rude, inapropriate or irrelevant.
    By the way, I love Wilde. Thank you for sharing some interesting views on his wit.

  48. I am like you..I think of the funny quips a day late and a dollar short.

    Your description of the Paris chat made me think of the comedian Brian Regan when he does his monologue about visiting Paris and the Louvre. “I love Mon-ey” (Monet)

  49. “but I suspect that my friends may wonder if I’ve hired a ghost writer exclusively for those purposes because in person, my comments often tend to invoke the nervous laughter that is only uttered when others are uncomfortable or feel obligated to do something other than stare..”

    brilliant – I can relate. Loving your work! Thanks!


    If you really want to be witty, you need only memorize the witticisms of John Lennon. He was not only the hippest guy ever born, he was also the sharpest, most nearly impossibly WITTY man!


    “As usual, there is a great woman behind every idiot.”

    “Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.”

    “When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”

    “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

    “Part of me suspects that I’m a loser, and the other part of me thinks I’m God Almighty.”

    “Music is everybody’s business. It’s only the publishers who think people own it”

    “It’s weird not to be weird.”

    “When you’re drowning you don’t think, I would be incredibly pleased if someone would notice I’m drowning and come and rescue me. You just scream.”

    “For those of you in the cheap seats I’d like ya to clap your hands to this one; the rest of you can just rattle your jewelry!”

    …AND…._DO NOT EVER_ sprinkle your conversations with sayings from Chairman Mao’s Little Red Book! He was an un-funny guy. Seriously. If you do slip and begin to spout Mao’s sayings, your dinner parties will be a real drag forever.


    “War is the highest form of struggle for resolving contradictions, when they have developed to a certain stage, between classes, nations, states, or political groups, and it has existed ever since the emergence of private property and of classes.”

    “A revolution is not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture, or doing embroidery; it cannot be so refined, so leisurely and gentle, so temperate, kind, courteous, restrained and magnanimous. A revolution is an insurrection, an act of violence by which one class overthrows another.”

    “The enemy will not perish of himself. Neither will the Chinese reactionaries nor the aggressive forces of U.S. imperialism in China step down from the stage of history of their own accord.”

    “In class society, everyone lives as a member of a particular class, and every kind of thinking, without exception, is stamped with the brand of a class.”


  51. I’ll be honest … I only read the first 2 paragraphs, but I found your writing style quite entertaining and I enjoyed your WordPress theme, so I am bookmarking your blog and look forwarding to reading more of your work in the future.

    “Babies don’t need a vacation, but I still see them at the beach… it pisses me off! I’ll go over to a little baby and say ‘What are you doing here? You haven’t worked a day in your life!'”
    — Steven Wright

    Live well and be blessed,


  52. Hello,

    You write beautifully and I can’t have enough of it it. I’ve read half the blog and I have to interrupt my reading but I’ll write back once i’ve finished it.

  53. In my youth I dated a taller than average woman, her name was Jane Parrish. She was tall, blond and blue eyed. At the time I was completedly in love with her, but lacked the maturity as a young man of 22 to keep her. Jane, wherever you may be this day, thank you for the beauty and love you brought into my life at that place in my life. You are always in my thoughts….even to this day..

    As to wit, to me it is the cure of the moment to the sadness that covers our current country by a President too stupid to lead her. I always find that bringing humor to the moment, especially those that I know that are suffering with depression, seems to me, to be a wonderful gift that God has rendered me. A wonderful blog, written with much insight to the human condition.

  54. Nice post Taller Than Average Woman and great blog too! Given your theme I thought I might let you and your readers know about an opportunity for writers to produce exactly 1000 words of wit for an exciting new photo-literary collaboration.

    The Concept, called Picture 1000 Words, is to exhibit a series of 1000-word creative writing pieces paired with the images that inspired them. See the link below for more info:

    Oh and please don’t think I’m spamming you! I genuinely think yourself and your readers would be interested in this.


    Cam Cope

  55. If being witty is only authentic if you are quick at it, then I must be a half-wit! Because I only come up with quick retorts half the time. (Wait, that’s not right.) The rest of the time, I’m in that same state of “Damn it! That’s what I should have said when so-and-so said…!” as most people.

    Personally, I’m glad you’re witty on paper. Otherwise, how would I know how witty you truly are since I live nowhere near you and won’t have the opportunity to eat cheeseburgers and drink Budweiser with you and your friends!

    Oh, and I laughed out loud at least three times while reading this, chuckled a couple of times, and delayed sleep so I could finish it all. Totally worth it on the delayed sleep part.

  56. A surprisingly witty post…about not having any wit! But yeah, I reckon it’s really rare that people are natural impromptu wits, I bet most have planned their lines in advance and are waiting for an opening moment.
    As I’ve discovered, a pause before delivering your killer line often makes it even funnier. Timing works both ways…

  57. Hello again,

    Finally made it to the end of your ‘why I hate witty people’ blog and to be honest, I am not convinced that you couldn’t bombard away witty responses over dinner (or anywhere for that matter)… so I’d love to have you as a dinner guest and find out 🙂

    Looking forward to reading more from you, Cristy.

  58. Totally off topic, however I find your writing style intriguing and being of a young age, I consider you a great example of what level of literature I would like to be.

    As for wit, I am considered to be quick witted by my peers and those around me, but I believe that it isn’t about the timing. To be witty is to be intelligent and be able to make a valid argument that not necessarily combats your “opponents” reply, but rather, gets the point across and also makes people laugh. That is, however, just my opinion.

  59. Haha hilarious post, you have completely shattered my notions of wit. I mean my wit consists mostly of egg puns in any and every instance where I can throw one out (due to being a egg) but now I know the art of true wit is to prepare some premaid quips and prepare for the day when I can deliver those little drops of heaven. Unfortunately, I also feel a big aspect of wit is delivery of said quote. Timing and content is essential, but if said in a over eggcited tone then it can ruin the entire moment. You could say it is all about eggsecution. (see what I did there) But your post is eggstremely eggmusing and reminds me a bit of one of my idols, Stephen Fry-ing Pan. Great Post!

    Can you spare 2 seconds to help transform someone’s life, support eggs and earn some good karma? My name is Eggan and I really need your help. Long story short, I need to become famous for my friend who is a poor graduate to get onto the Saatchi&Saatchi advertising internship by getting as many Facebook likes as possible. If you could just go to my page and like the Facebook box you would be really helping me out a lot. It would also give you an instant injection of good karma. You could call it your good deed for the day! if you can give any support I would really appreciate it and you would be helping immensely 🙂

  60. This reminds me of an episode of Seinfeld where George is confounded by the fact that he is only able to think up a witty retort hours after the particular situation occured.
    While I am tempted to side with your friends on the matter, I think I’ll choose your line of reasoning instead if only because I also find what I write is far wittier than how I am in person.

  61. This totally cracked me up. It reminds me of a sonnet (or was it an ode?) I wrote in college, entitled “To Azure Eyes,” dedicated to some dude I stalked at a swim meet. I’m sure I made as lasting an impression on him considering how sexy my pointy head looks in a rubber swim cap. Sigh.

    Anyway, I am so glad to have found you. While your sonnet may have been creepy and crappy (sorry — I can say that since mine was too), you are now the real deal, m’dear.

  62. I’m thrilled to know I’m not the only one who saves their best stuff for the ride home. There are, of course, some benefits to being slow to wit, like in a courtroom, after the judge has threatened you with … you know … whatever it is judges threaten insolent defendants with. Just a sec, it will come to me….

  63. If I say something funny generally people laugh but if they don’t I tend to laugh at myself. I’m not sure if I’m good at wit, I’m more talented at making a fool out of myself. 😀

  64. “The problem is that I’m slow to wit. ”

    No Darling. Just exceptionally tedious and boring, like the people who seem to think it is not eg “This post is very, well…witty!”.

    Ha. ….. That is the funniest thing I have read on this blog.

  65. Being Canadian, we are naturally “a little slow, eh?” Could be due to the freezing winters, it does something to you. I can be funny, but I’m slow to respond too!

  66. Different humors are comfortable with different sized audiences. I would wager your wittiness is inversely effected by the size of the audience starting w/zero being your peak. Watch Steve Martin on an interview with a professional talk show host, and you’ll see he’s no good until the host gets to the material he’s already prepped.

    As long as my audience stays between zero – five (yes, zero! I’m still giggling at my thoughts with no one there), I’m slinging jokes and quips ‘o plenty! But, as it gets larger, the topics begin to flow too fast and the windows for insertion become too narrow for me to keep up.

    Don’t hate. Just find your zone.

  67. wit-twit
    trumpets on crumpets
    I’ll sing for my dinner whilst
    we Wilde away the hours !

    Kudos for bringing thought back to “the age of reduced wattage” (Millodello)
    Carry On !!!

  68. My goal is to be half as witty as you.
    Tell me all your secrets, or I shall throw poop at you.
    Just kidding.
    Not really.

    Thanks for the hilarious post!

  69. I must side with the witty people. Wit is about timing; otherwise it’s called smart, clever, facetious, etc. That’s also why the delivery of pre-formed jokes at just the right time makes one witty. But I’m sure you have many other attributes 🙂

  70. I relate to your delayed wit conundrum. I’ve always believed my neurons fire in reverse at first, like a pole-vaulter getting a good solid run up before letting fly. Sadly, while the preparation is taking shape, most of the party has decamped, and your best efforts are left without an audience. Mighty bloody annoying. A very enjoyable read. Thanks!

  71. although this has nothing to do with this article- which is by the way a little unnerving but very well written- you guys should go to realityisalovelyplace…. which is also unnerving… or do i not know the meaning of the word?

    1. Try drinking water from the opposite side of the glass. It helps me when I have the hiccups. Perhaps it can help with laughter too?

      Seriously, thanks so much. Glad you enjoyed it and hope you’ll be back!

  72. There is a difference between wit and comic timing, sadly the well thought out witty comment can come too late but the perfectly timed quip can take all the glory. An interesting and laugh out loud post. I especially love your Sarah Palin joke! Rob Bryndza

  73. Wonderful post. As one who has tried to be witty I wish I had fifty-one minute lag. Then I’d be able to write it down and have it for future use. Perhaps publihing in a book using assumed names (I’d be the sole contributor). Time delay bon mots are best used making characters in stories look intelligent and by proxy the creator of the character.

  74. Funny post! I have always prided myself on being witty, and thanks to you I have learned so much about Oscar Wilde, I now know that it would be ok if I drag my friends over for practice sessions so I never miss another chance to throw a zinger out there… 🙂

  75. How to be more witty: meditate. No really, hear me out. Once i learned to meditate and quiet my brain, there wasn’t anything getting in the way of a funny comment. It was right at the forefront. Also sometimes i rehearse conversations in my head…

  76. I have to say… the appeal of Witty fades fast. I think most people would rather hang out with someone who is straight out funny, or kind, or sincere in some unique way.

  77. ah, witty people — i love em. the tall and the small! how can i hate those who horde up their wit/practice their art in secret to present when the opportunity presents itself? i can’t hold it against ’em. if they are well-rehearsed, i’ll never know the difference anyway!

    1. Stephen Fry did play Oscar Wilde in the film, Wilde. It’s a great movie. You should check it out. Not that I knew Wilde personally – I’m not THAT old – but I did write my thesis on his work and, based of what I’ve learned about him over the years, I think Fry nailed him.

  78. I always made the analogy that Freshly Pressed was as mentally stimulating as a paltry streetwalker but today I have to eat my words, which well I wont even go there. I really liked your post ! It tickled me pink, which speaks to your talents as I am African American or in southern States flotsam when levees break and Irresponsible amount of water comes through the slums.

    I liked your other posts too namely: God loving Short People, The Holy White man. They really stand out. I will be back around, again like the street walker from earlier spewing my vitriol for cheap laughs.

    GReat Post!!!
    Mr Mary

    1. Maybe I should change my blog title to “Paltry Taller-Than-Average Streetwalker?” Oh, yeah. I’ll never make Freshly Pressed again, but I might actually make some money doing this! Thanks for the great idea, Mr. Mary! Glad you visited and hope you’re back soon.

  79. I NEVER read long blog posts, but I read this one! Crazy engaging…

    Will follow your blogs you witty one you!

  80. Great post. Maybe Gervais was right. I like Wilde but what I best remember from his biography seems to strengthen Gervais’ point:

    One of Wilde’s acquaintances said that Oscar really was very funny, but she had never met anybody repeating himself so much.

    Another claimed that Oscar stole. And he added, well maybe not exactly an example but still witty:
    Oscar: That was so funny I wish I had said it myself.
    Wit: Don’t be sorry Oscar, you will.

    1. I had not heard about the “repeating himself” bit before. You’re right, that does support Gervais’ and my point. Awesome! Thanks for visiting my blog, you Wilde aficionado, you! Please come back. 🙂

  81. Very nice writing style. Interesting, humorous, captivating (and witty, let’s not forget about witty). I enjoyed reading your text very much (also bookmarked the site so I can check out the rest) and I must say that your husband has a serious competitor for that “one of the funniest people on the planet” title. Cheers.

  82. The one and only key to being instant-witty is to be confident. When there is tension and you are waiting for something to say you simply wont. Boost up your confidence, you can knock anyone’s anywhere with your wit. Your post proves so. You just need to release the tension.

  83. and gay. awfully large AND gay man. that’s what’s inhabiting you now :/
    but “lawd,” could he write. and so can you. excellent piece.

    1. I can live with that. Gay men are my people. When you’re in your forties, married and without children, developing friendships with childless gay men is a must. They are available for dinner, happy hour, parties – things that are often a challenge for breeders. Plus, I was a fag hag for years. I love me my gay men! Thanks for the very sweet compliment, btw!

  84. This is a wonderfully witty and masterfully crafted piece – you are an very talented wordsmith.

    First, allow me an exaggerated roll of the eyes at those people who would criticize your wit with “But why, oh why, the Hate???” Where would wit be – indeed all humor – if we adults had to play by the same rules we impose on our grade school children? It’s an integral part of the fun we have earned by simply making it to adulthood.

    This is the first time I have ever read any blogs, so – home sick for the last few days – I decided to see for myself if there was anything out there worth reading. After trying to read 20 or more musings, my hope for humanity and intelligence was all but dying until I found you. You have given me a reason to sustain my hope a while longer.

    Bravo, madam. I can’t wait to read more.

    I am considering creating my own blog… what advice would you offer?

    1. Thank you for your lovely words. It’s been years since anyone told me that I have given them a reason to do anything but pull out their hair in clumps.

      Regarding the advice you seek. Oh, how I wish I could be the sage voice of wisdom and email you a leather bound copy of Brilliant Blogging (no one mails anything anymore), but I must shamefully admit that I’m rather new at this blogging thing. In fact, my first post of my very first blog was the one selected for Freshly Pressed and I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. I’m not being modest. I’ve been blogging for less than two weeks. Perhaps this is what is drawing others to me; clearly, my work isn’t contrived and I’m certainly not writing about anything the rule books would probably tell you are topics that draw the coveted “hits.” So, here’s my advice, but take it with a grain of salt…and a margarita, if you’re inclined.

      1) Write in your voice and about what interests you. If I gave a rat’s ass about what interested other people, my blog would be dedicated to the joys of scrapbooking and how to obtain that Kim Kardashian smoky eye. If you go the mainstream route, you may get some of the coveted hits I mentioned, but you will have sold your soul and will spend eternity listening to David Hasselhoff – singing – in German.

      2) As I don’t know much about non-writing blogs (i.e. photography, recipes, etc.), I will only address those that involve lots of words. If you’re going to embark upon a wordy blog as I have, then make your words count. The complaint I’ve heard about other bloggers is that many just slap some words down there without nary a revision or even a spell check. I know we all make the occasional boo boo, but when your posts are littered with grammatical and spelling errors, people will think you just don’t care. And if you don’t care about your writing, then why should they? So, invest time and love and a couple extra sets of eyes into your posts. (My husband is forced to read mine; if he refuses, I read them aloud to him and that annoys the crap out of him. Especially when I do it through the bathroom door. Okay, I haven’t had to do it through the door yet, but it’s coming. Trust me.)

      3) Cherish your followers. Anyone who takes the time to read your blog is golden. And once they have committed to reading your posts, don’t let them down. Be consistent. If you’re only going to post once or twice a month, mention that up front in one of your posts or in your profile so people know what to expect. I’m a pretty prolific writer, but I’m sure I’ll have my moments when I’m traveling or working on another writing project (that might actually pay), and I plan to warn my subscribers in advance so they don’t think I’ve abandoned them. Seriously, their faith in me and my words keeps me going. Readers rock!

      4) Try to respond to comments if you can. I’ve been way more lax in this than I would normally be, but I’m trying to give myself a break because I got 20,000 hits in two days after I was Freshly Pressed and just couldn’t keep up. I especially try to respond when someone asks me a thoughtful question, makes an interesting observation, is especially complimentary (keep ’em comin’, people!) or asks for advice. Actually, I think this might be my very first request for advice. How cool is that?

      5) Integrate other forms of media into your work to break up the paragraphs. Except for naked photos of your grandmother. No one wants to see that.

      6) Have fun with it and, please, send me a link to your blog when you’re up and running. I’d love to read it!

  85. Haha, that amused me. Dry humour is definitely a winner. I’m probably not one to really comment on humour however. I’m writing a novel “In That Other Dimension” which I’m posting on my blog as I go along – and I laugh at it all the time. Isn’t it slightly wrong to laugh at your own jokes? I supposed its better than if I didn’t think they were funny I guess.

    Good work 🙂

  86. This was a very well written and dare I say witty post. I must say I am also a late humor person. I cant think of anything witty until I am in the car on the way home. Then I am always thinking “oh man I should’ve said that!”

  87. I enjoyed this post until you introduced me to Dilatory Epigram Syndrome. I never had a word for this. Now I’m… I don’t know…

    I feel like you’ve explained the logistics of Santa Claus’ deliveries to me for the first time.

    P.S Oscar Wilde WAS my favourite writer…

  88. I really enjoyed reading this, thanks for writing it. I think I have a similar but distinct wit issue. For me the determining factor for whether I’ll be witty or not is the arena. Online, I can make ’em laugh with the best of them, in a group of ACTUAL HUMAN LIVING people I find that it is all to easy to get drowned out by the loudest voice. It’s one of the things I like the most about writing online, bravado and bullishness are at least somewhat tempered; though as you mentioned I’m sure many of my friends also assume I have a ghost writer or bottled them all up earlier like Wilde. Actually, they probably just think I’m not witty when online and wish I was in a room with them so they could speak louder.

    Cheers for the amusement!

  89. I hate to side with your seemingly obnoxious friends (I think I identify with your gay friend the most…), but I think they are right. Wit is part intelligence and part timing. Without the timing, you would be the inevitable loser in any Battle of Wits.

    Of course, whilst you might not be “witty” you can still be insightful. And your posts certainly scream of insight.

    At the end of the day, who needs to be witty when you can publish your hilarious thoughts publicly, in writing, on a blog! There’s wit, and then there’s the Last Laugh!

    1. I must disagree, oh creepy one. I think it depends on the battlefield…and if it is the blogosphere, someone like me has a sporting chance of winning. Unless, of course, they have my abominable luck. Still, I don’t know that I’d call the game as inevitable. After all, according to you, I’m still insightful and I do get the Last Laugh.

      BTW, your stories are creepy. I was delighted to find them and recommended them to my husband as well. Favorite authors?

      1. Meh, what do I know? I just like playing Devil’s Advocate (read: being a obnoxious shit). Hell, I can’t even get Freshly Pressed!

        I’m glad you liked my little vignettes of Mr Creepy Pants. I hope you actually reacted more with laughter than terror. As for authors, I am disgustingly under-read (meaning I don’t read enough, not that people don’t read my stuff enough – although they don’t…!)

        That being said, my favourites are Tim Winton, Truman Capote, Nick Hornby (probably who I identify with the most as a writer) and Christos Tsiolkas. Wow, how mysogynistic of me. I can’t think of any female authors!

      2. Oh, I giggled, but I like creepy things. Actually, they’re quite good and compelling. In fact, looking forward to reading more today when I have some time. I like playing Devil’s Advocate, too…but I stopped because he never pays his bills on time. Stupid demon.

    1. I’ve been thinking about copyrighting the word “slowit”, meaning one who is slow to wit. Think it would catch on? Probably not, huh? Thanks for visiting my blog and saying nice things about it. Nice things make me happy.

  90. Excellent read, thanks. I love the old pictures of Gray. He sort of looks like a feminist in the second picture. Great article!

  91. It’s a pity you don’t have a donate button! I’d definitely donate to this superb blog! I suppose for now i’ll settle for book-marking and adding your RSS feed to my Google account. I look forward to brand new updates and will share this site with my Facebook group. Chat soon!

  92. hi cristy,
    you’ve captured a familiar feeling known well to the slow witted and the witty but slow… of course the witty in slow motion like myself (i have the rare moments similar to yours but they’re few and far betwixt) always seem to suffer the pangs of uncertainty surrounding the question of whether or not they might actually be slow witted. I find that when religious people show up at my door (jehovah’s onlookers or even just catholics), I always think of the perfect remark to make them turn away from jebus but only after they’re blocks from my house. I guess if I exhibited behavior that Mr. Wilde allegedly exhibited, I’d would spend my afternoons skulking by my front door hoping against hope that an unsuspecting evangelizer would wander onto my porch with a stack of drivelly literature hoping to snag a new tither to the ever dwindling flock and like a witty puma I would pounce on their dutiful nonsense with a perfect zinger to which they would undoubtedly reply… “I’m sorry to have bothered you and you’ve convinced me that I’m wasting what little time I’ve left on earth. Thank you for opening my eyes to the evils of organized religion.” But alas, I’m usually back in my studio daydreaming about the same posthumously published book of witticisms that you are.

  93. Nice. Your writing is very—at the risk of sounding like a retard—flourishy. I’ve been told I’m witty, but I confess to hoarding others’ comments and tardy zingers for future occasions.

    1. Flourishy? Awesome…I love it when people make up words and it’s even better when they are about me or my writing. I am jealous of your wit. My fingers must be tapping computer keys in order for my cleverness to be apparent to anyone but me. Thanks for subscribing!

  94. Oscar wilde was an Irish author. And was so much popular for his wit. And wit does not mean always funny but is known for a positive cleverness. I remember one of the Oscar Wilde’s witty quotes – Men always want to be a woman’s first love – women like to be a man’s last romance. And I did not find any funny thing in this. While it is quoted very wittily.

  95. Wow that was unusual. I just wrote an incredibly long comment but after
    I clicked submit my comment didn’t appear. Grrrr…
    well I’m not writing all that over again. Regardless, just wanted to say excellent blog!

      1. Yes, I agree. Wit is a kind of humor, along with satire and irony. Did you read the post or just the title? If you read the post, the context makes it clear that I don’t hate witty people. Perhaps, I’m simply not your taste. Fortunately, there are thousands of humor blogs out there.

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