There’s nothing funny about getting a cold.

When you have a cold nothing you do, see, or hear seems even remotely humorous. There isn’t a picture or caption, nor blog that tickles your fancy, arouses your sense of humor, nor allows your giggle pin to become dislodged.

I cough, I wheeze, I ache and I sneeze. I’m am sick with a cold and that, my friend, is not funny.

Oh, I was a smart ass last week. You see, my wife and son have had two bouts of an upper respiratory infection since the first day of school in September. I was thinking, “Maybe my immunity is good. Maybe these colds will pass me by.”

Maybe pigs have wings! (First Swine Flu Reference)

Because, as my sainted mother would advise, “Never let the Devil know what you’re thinking, Jimmy!”

Right, I’m the guy who has that little character sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear 24/7. “Jimmy, wouldn’t it be fun to . . ?”Indeed, the little bugger takes all of his cues from me. But, that’s another Blog.

One week ago today I picked up this cold, flu, virus seasonal whatever. One week ago today all of my “funny” flew out the window.

Science has proven that any cold, flu, virus, seasonal whatever attacks your funny bone directly. I think they call it, “Tennis elbow of the humorous”.

I will illustrate my thesis by providing empirical evidence. Yes, I have set myself up as a guinea pig (2nd Swine Flu Reference) in an experiment worthy of the Bud Light Institute. As my friends, you will reap the benefits of this: my sacrifices to science, as it were.

Here they are: “Five Reasons Why there is Nothing Funny About A Cold, Flu, Virus, Seasonal What-Ever-You-May-Call-It!”

In lieu of time and space considerations, today we will tackle two of them.

Number Five:


What’s funny about that?

This thick mucus, gooey, slimy substance that clogs your passages is nothing to sneeze at, because if you do – you might just produce an unwanted projectile.

In medieval medicine, phlegm was one of the four basic bodily fluid humors. (Humor being- any of the four main fluids of the human body, blood, yellow bile, black bile, or lymph that determined somebody’s mood and temperament.) I could rest my case here, because my humor has been running out of me as quickly as if I’d sprung a leak. Indeed, I have quickly become humorless!

Like today, this amazing coughing jag overcame me, causing me to gag as if choking on a grape. To my horror, a great wad of something ejected from my mouth. I caught a glimpse of it between spasms, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. I looked everywhere – the floor, the keyboard and the top of my desk – but to no avail. Then, as I unzipped my jacked (Got the Chills), to my horror, there it was! Dangling from my jacket sleeve, like a great gob of crazy glue, dangled this piece of alien slime. It was as disgusting as anything I’d seen in a horror flick. In fact, any self-respecting Zombie wouldn’t dare eat it!


Snot even funny, my friend.

And what of the runny nose, you may ask. This river of snot that runs incessantly and uncontrollably and keeps your pockets filled with rolled up balls of wet and/or solidified tissues. If you’re lucky you can catch one of the “danglies”, those stray strands of mucus that bob like a rubber ball on an elastic, before it hits the floor.

“Pumba, don’t eat that!”


Funny, I think not!

Number Four:

Cravings, Perspective and Self-Esteem.

Every time I catch one of these viruses it amazes me how perspective changes and how certain cravings take over.

First of all, everyone views you in a different light. If you’re looking for sympathy forget it. Any amount of whining gets you nowhere.

“So, now you know how we felt last week!”

“Ya, dad, but my cough was worse than that!”

“What are you complaining about we’ve been sick for weeks!”

“Stop whining!”

I felt so bad last Tuesday I said to my wife, “Just shoot me!”

The look in her eyes said, “Find me a gun!”

Catch my drift.

A cold does nothing for your self-esteem. Kissing family members on the forehead is like kissing your great, great grandmother. Every time I lean in, my wife either turns the other cheek or does the forehead bob.

In public, if you cough or wheeze, good citizens retreat from you as if you are the carrier of all the disease and pestilence this world has to offer. Nobody like a humorless dolt, especially one whose constant vacuum like snuffs and sniffing does little to prevent the eruption of Mount Proboscis.

Then, despite the fact that food tastes as bland as papier-mâché, you’re always hungry. I can’t pass the fridge without opening the door and taking a peek. There goes the Boot Camp Program. Too sore and miserable to exercise, yet always ready to put food in my mouth. Maybe it’s true what they say, “Feed a cold!” But, really, I think the Devil came up with that one.

For example, we were at a Pig Roast on the weekend (3rd Swine Flu Reference) and as I watched them dismember the carcass, nothing in my body even remotely suggested that one of my favorite foods would taste good. But, even without an appetite and my taste buds in limbo – I overate!


Cravings don’t stop at food, my friends. Even though I feel like a bag of nails, suddenly my wife looks more desirable than ever. My God, Saturday’s hint of cleavage, the long red hair down to her back, the tore jeans, and the sexy smile put my motor in overdrive. Too bad, she wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole. (My apologies to tall Polish men) I’m the guy with the bloodshot eyes, ringed by dark bags, who sports a red nose with mucus accessories. At that moment, I appear about as desirable as PAP smear.

Yes, I’m the guy with humor draining out of him by the tissue load. Man, the Devil has a heyday when your defenses are down. And that’s not at all funny.


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