Comedist Fathers' Day

This weekend's Comedist sermon is in honor of Fathers' Day. A wonderful tradition whereby we take time to thank our dads.

As a father now myself, I only hope that I can live up to the comedic examples of my father and grandfather.

It is my father who showed me my first Marx Brother's movie, and my second, and my third,... My father who taught me how to tell a joke. He gave me his sense of timing that and playfulness with words. When my Dad pulled the car off the road, it wasn't to yell at us, it was because we were on our way home from seeing the largely unknown film "Young Doctors In Love" and we were laughing so hard at a sight gag I no longer recall that he couldn't see the road through the tears.

I'll never forget the time as a child, when my mother was out for a while, we ran out of laundry detergent, so he put a little bit of dishwashing soap in the washing machine. The bubbles filled the kitchen up to my waist. They kept coming and coming and coming... It was like the pudding scene in Sleeper. There was the time he, my brother, and I were playing golf and he left the handcart in front of us. He hit a beautiful shot, right off his golf bag, it ricocheted straight up in the air and landed eight feet behind us.

His loud, infectious laugh with his glasses in one hand, wiping his eyes with the other, is the image I have of a joyful life.

He comes by it honestly, his father is the Comedic patriarch of the family. Four sons, all funny. Some of my funniest memories are from the table in their dining room. Pop always has a good one for you. He'll look to see if the kids are out of earshot, and then pull you aside. At my father's retirement party, Pop killed the room, absolutely killed. And he worked clean...well, mostly. He's a funny, funny man.

In his honor we'll end with a classic I learned from him.

It was Murray Rosenblatt's ninetieth birthday and as a joke his friends sent a hooker to his room in the nursing home. She walked in and took off her coat to show her shapely, barely clad figured. In a low seductive voice, she said, "I'm here to give you super sex." "What?" asked Murray. Realizing that his hearing was going, she spoke a little louder, "I'm here to give you super sex." Murray, a little confused, said "You're here to give me what?" Loudly, she screamed, "Super sex." Murray looks up from his bed and says, "If it's alright with you, I'll take the soup."

Dad, Pop, thanks for the laughs. I hope I can give my kids one tenth the joy you've given me.