"You have a really odd sense of humor," they say.

"Thanks!" I say.

"And your articles aren't overlong. I think that's best for everyone."

"Thanks!" I say.

I'm gratified by these comments, but I worry too. I won't be around
forever, and when I'm gone, who will take over my work? None of my kids
is particularly funny. The other morning my youngest daughter tried to
wake me by tapping my forehead with a hot dog, but I did not find that
funny. My middle daughter thinks telling a joke means quoting a line
you've never heard from a TV show you've never seen. And my oldest--well
let's just say she makes Sinbad Junior and Salty the Parrot look like
Smith and Dale!

Clearly my family is not going to step up when the time comes for me
to hang up my pen, and according to my wife that time is coming sooner
than anyone suspects. So although I hate to spoil the magic, I think
my only option is to reveal the writing secrets the humorist community
doesn't want the general public to know, in hopes that one of you will be
inspired to contribute a column of your own to the Mariner some day. So
where do you start? Let's find out!

The first and most important step is the procrastination. That's where
you'll spend the bulk of your time. The Internet can help, and long
showers, and eating up Halloween candy you bought in mid-September,
foolishly imagining that you were stocking up early. But you will
inevitably run out of ideas--it's the nature of the creative process and
you can't beat yourself up over it. Procrastinator's Block is something
all writers deal with from time to time, but what distinguishes a real
artist from a hack is the innovative spirit he brings to the avoidance
of writing. Earnest Hemingway, Mariel Hemingway's grandfather, was a
writer famous for his procrastination methods, which often involved
participating in World Wars and trying to kill himself. I certainly
don't recommend going that far, but when you have a deadline looming and
all the miniature golf courses in your area are closed for the winter,
you'll understand why joining the Navy can be tempting.

This first phase of work should take you right up to the night before
your article is due. The next step is to think of something lighthearted
to write about, which can be difficult when you're having a nervous
breakdown. You may get so desperate that you decide to write about the
writing process itself, but for dignity's sake you must back away from
the edge of this precipice and start over. There are many, many other
interesting things to write about at any given time--far too many to
list here I'm afraid.

Once you've settled on a topic that doesn't feed on itself like some
grotesque snake bent on swallowing its own tail, it's time to add the
laughs. The key is to remember the three cardinal rules of comedy:

1. Any subject can be made funny except hot dogs that wake you out of
   a sound sleep for goodness sake.

2. The best jokes often rely on a surprise, first building an expectation
   and then defying that expectation. For example you might begin a statement
   in a deadpan tone that doesn't suggest a punch line is coming, and then
   simply continue in that vein and complete the statement without a payoff.

3. Assume your audience is sophisticated. Don't insult their intelligence
   by using terms like "elephant bums," "mastodon booty," or "pachyderm
   butts."

The last step is to write a final paragraph that awkwardly returns to
your initial theme, which was introduced with good intentions but soon
abandoned in favor of silly digressions and poor excuses to write things
like "hippo hineys" in a newspaper.

John Lengyel lives in Cohasset. A representative from the humorist
community paid him an angry visit this afternoon, jump-starting his
latent fear of evil clowns.