Surgeon, electrician, teacher: these are the jobs that generally come to mind when we think of the world's most difficult professions. Admittedly, performing open heart surgery, splicing a cable and managing a classroom full of hormonally imbalanced students (and teaching them something to boot) are all extremely difficult tasks. But is anything more difficult than making people laugh?
About the only thing more unpredictable than human laughter are subatomic particles so perhaps quantum physicists could argue their job is just as difficult. But I can personally think of few things more harrowing than being a stand-up comedian armed only with a microphone who must keep an auditorium filled with thousands of people from every walk of life entertained for an hour. No props, no special effects, no second takes: only a madman would want to do that for a living.
If you succeed as a stand-up, you eventually get to move on to movies, which, if anything, are even more difficult than stand-up. There are so many suits who know nothing about comedy who insist on putting their stamp on a movie that is it any wonder so few films make us laugh?
And then there is writing funny. For every David Sedaris who makes it look easy, there are a bastion of pale imitators who make it seem as hard as it is. For a collection of painfully unfunny sportswriting by guys who clearly think they're the funniest thing since Sam Kinison, check out FireJoeMorgan.com.
So what does everyone else think. Is there anything more difficult in this world than being funny?


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Comments
I occasionally try to write in a humorous vein and I think it's the most difficult type of writing, including because you don't have the aid of tone of voice, body language or facial expression as you do with verbal humor. But it also brings some of the greatest satisfaction if you feel you pull it off, even if only in certain lines.
--Tommy DeVito
Being funny is easy, but only if you have the right audience. Any one of us could provoke raucous laughter in a roomful of little boys by farting, were we so inclined. An audience of Frenchmen is somewhat more complicated; one must either do a spot-on Jerry Lewis impression, or wear floppy red shoes and fall down a lot.
Mel Brooks said, "Comedy is tragedy plus distance." If you think about it, that can probably be applied to all kinds of humor, from fart jokes (tragedy as social embarrasment?) to slapstick ("That poor fellow! His shoes, they are too large, n'est pas?)
It's the audience that determines how serious the tragedy can be, and how much distance is required before the awful can be made laughable.
The most talented comedian, if he crosses that invisible line - or doesn't get close enough to the edge - will fall flat on his face. To the endless delight of Benny Hill fans.
Athena Bradford: You're a very brave soul. I am a teacher by training and I found it nearly impossible to keep a class of 20 attentive for an hour. I could scarcely imagine people paying a hundred bucks a head to hear me tell stories for an hour!
Ocularnervosa: You make a good point. Check out firejoemorgan.com. Those sportswriters clearly think they are God's gift to humour.
Kaysong: Agreed. The worst thing is you get a lot of wise guys like me complaining you're not as funny as you used to be.
I'll try to get to the rest of the comments after work.
Silkstone: I used to try to write funny but I've been taking a break lately. The problem is I don't want to be like the entertainment writer who pens "Star Trek Beams Up $75 million at the box office". Most humour sounds way too forced in my opinion.
That having been said, there's also no more thrilling feeling than knowing that something YOU have conjured from the recesses of your tiny brain has caused your audience to roll in laughter. Improv in particular is a strange thrill, when you're connecting with the audience, and more importantly with your scene partners. You toss out a suggestion, your partner takes it and runs with it, and gives you something inspiring to riff off back. It's magic, baby.