Causes of Laughter By Petre An

We all laugh; we all know this sensation that is regulated by the brain, but have you ever asked why do we laugh? What do we think that is so funny, so we start laughing out loud?

There are three theories about what we find funny: the incongruity theory, the superiority theory and the relief theory.

The incongruity theory was elaborated in 1970 by the German philosopher Immanuel Kant in "The Critique of Judgment". This theory suggests that what causes laughter is the "non-matching" of what we expect to happen and what really happens. When a joke begins, our mind and body anticipates what is about to happen. That anticipation is intertwined with our emotions and past experiences, so, when a joke goes in a different direction we need to switch gears and new emotions invade our brain - we experience two sets of incompatible thoughts. In conclusion, we are laughing out loud!

The superiority theory is based on laughing of somebody's mistake or stupidity. We feel superior to that person so we start laughing.

The relief theory or the release theory was defined by Sigmund Freud - he has a strong argument which holds that "all laughter results from a release of excessive energy". With this theory Freud explains the "type" of laughter that allows us to release or to get rid of a very stressful thought. He thinks that this theory can be applied when we talk about sexual or hostile feelings. It allows us to hint and to say things that we would never say in a polite and serious conversation. Freud says that this is the theory that we apply when we tell something serious about someone, that person gets mad and we hide behind this cliché: "I was joking!".

Another way to laugh out loud is by tickling. When another person tickles us we can't stop laughing because our brain is surprised with exterior actions. Have you ever tried to tickle yourself? Have you observed that you simply can't laugh? It's strange, but scientists, after they built a "tickle machine", they found out that our brain needs to be surprised with foreign actions. How the brain uses this information about tension and surprise is still a mystery.

These are the causes of laughter. Now all we need to do is to find someone that knows how to tell a funny story, or someone we could gossip with or somebody that makes us laugh because he is very playful or stupid and inattentive - so that we could apply all the elaborated theories about laughter.

More stuff about laughter or that can make you laugh, here: Laughter Land

The Naked Gnomes By Robert A. Mills

My friend Willy Moncrief, the effervescent Irishman, stops over once or twice a week, and he always brings a six-pack of Dortmunder's Lite Dark Lager, all of which he drinks himself. I think he brings it because he knows I keep nothing in the house, rarely even a sociable glass of wine, but occasionally a can or two of soda pop.

"You know," I observed, opening and pouring a Dortmunder for my guest, "this beer you've brought is warm?"

"Room temperature," Moncrief replied. "All good beer should be consumed at room temperature. Nuthin's worse than frigid hops."

"The ads on TV say-"

"TV is wrong." Moncrief took a healthy draught and smacked his lips. "Ah! Now that's what I call Guinness!" I pointed to the label and reminded him it was Dortmunder's. "Oh? Ah, yes, so 'tis. Tastes just like Guinness! Only they don't make a lite dark. . . . Or do they? . . . Never mind, lad-do ye have a Homeowners' Association to contend with?"

I told him I didn't think so. He nodded, reaching for the bottle and topping off his mug. "Notice how when it's tepid the foam makes a nice, robust collar. . . . Does anyone in your neighborhood have any gnomes?"

"Gnomes?"

"You know . . . the little people made o' plastic an' pewter, cute wee ones with shovels an' fishin' poles, pointed hats, waterin' cans-out on the lawn with the flamingoes an' whirly-gigs. I have dozens of 'em . . . an' that's what all the fuss's about."

It seemed that Moncrief, a widower who lived alone about two miles from me in a one-story condo on a small lake, received a letter from his Homeowners' Association complaining about the gnomes. True, he did have as many as sixty of the little rascals scattered about his front and back lawn, none of them no more than eighteen inches high, and they were spaced as though tending the property. A few of them held lanterns that actually glowed from light bulbs powered by AA batteries (he made a point of telling me the batteries were not included.)

"The Homeowners' Association wants me to get rid of 'em," he said. "Their Constitution Committee says they don't conform to the consistent beauty of our sub-division, and now they have to go. Seems somebody raised hell."

I wondered who would do such a thing, and Moncrief, after another hefty guzzle, told me the entire story. It seems the school bus stops directly in front of his condo, depositing its young charges where they are greeted daily by half of his gnomes. I remarked that I could see nothing wrong with that.

"There is nuthin wrong with it," Moncrief asserted, "except that three of 'em are naked."

"The children?"

"No, you idiot! Me gnomes! There are three of 'em out there with nothin' on but their Robin Hood hats. The blackguard who sculpted them neglected to paint blue pants and red jackets on 'em-he left nuthin but chubby flesh-colored gnome bodies happily dancin' about in their birthday suits without even up-curled yellows boots! I thought they looked fine, but the Constitution Committee's up in arms!"

I asked Moncrief what he was going to do about it. "Have me another lite dark, I think." I told him I was afraid the gnomes would have to go. "All of 'em?" I nodded, yes, probably, adding, "Homeowners' Associations, as a rule, make no compromises. Once a gnome has crossed the line, they're all suspect. Better you make a clean breast of it, so to speak."

I could tell by the look on Moncrief's face it was not going to be easy. "I guess you're right, lad," he sighed-but then his eyes brightened. "Wait a bloody second!" he cried. "I know what I'll do! I'll bring 'em over here an' come visit now an' then an' have a pint! You got plenty o' room in your yard-an' no Homeowners' Association makin' your life miserable!"

I was aghast. "You mean the three of them-the naked gnomes?"

"No, of course not! All of 'em! The entire menagerie! The flamingoes an' whirly-gigs, too! You know as well as me once the Constitution Committee gets their hooks into you, they won't rest 'til you're reeled in an' ready for guttin'! I'll put the boys in me pickup truck an' have 'em here before sunset!"

I eyed the diminishing six-pack of Dortmunder's. Temptation began to overwhelm me.

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Respect Your Mother - Part 2 - Vacations By Suzanne Salzmann

Now that you're getting a little bit older and planning your own vacations whether as a single adult or a family person, you can't help but feel a little bit of nostalgia thinking about your vacations as a child. It wasn't just about driving down to the Jersey shore and staying at your weird Uncle's house in Lavallete. No, it was more about the special vacations that your mother managed to weasel your father into. All that change she would save, coupons that she would clip, and home cooked meals instead of restaurants to save up money for your yearly flings. For that, and an incredible amount of other stuff, you should "respect your Mother".

She always told your father about the planned vacations to Disney World AFTER she booked non-refundable airline tickets.

During the lean years, she always found ways to get either discounted tickets or discounted meals for the Parks, and she hunted down the best rates for on-site Disney hotels. And she always managed to squeeze five people and luggage into a compact car.

Did you ever stop to realize why Mickey Mouse always made it over to your table at Chef Mickey's....and lingered for a long time? Your mother could charm the buttons off a mouse when she had to.

Her overt flirting with the front desk staff may have been embarrassing, but you must have noticed that you always got a water view room while traveling on a budget.

She embarrassed you no end at the Grand Canyon screaming "Watch out before you fall!" But now that you're an adult, you realize that she saved your life.

Remember how she guided you through airports so that you would know what to do once you started flying on your own? You couldn't understand why she kept telling you to pay attention, but remember your first solo flight when you missed your plane? Don't you wish you had listened to her back then?

She was the one who introduced you to all-inclusive resorts in the Caribbean, where you learned just how precious a band of plastic around your wrist could be. Remember how you flipped the band over from purple to white and the bartenders thought you were a newlywed and not a 16 year old kid?

Even though she spent half of the vacation sick in the bathroom, she was the one who planned the trip to Cancun so that you kids would know your way around in case you came back a few years later while in college.

Remember how embarrassed she made you when she was the only person on the catamaran in Antigua who donned a life jacket when the boat turned from the Caribbean into the Atlantic waters and the waves were 10 feet higher than the boat?

She embarrassed the heck out of you when she argued with your father against buying a horseback riding package from a "local vendor" on the beach in Antigua. But, when you all had to hitch a ride back to the resort on the back of a truck carrying slaughtered cow parts, well, she actually had a point.

After spending Spring Break with a bunch of college buddies in a sleazy motel room, you finally realized that not all hotel rooms had mini-bars and turn down service. Now you understand why your mother fought your dad tooth and nail to stay in 4 or 5 star hotels all those years.

Finally, while driving home penniless from your Florida spring break, just who went online and booked a Holiday Inn Express with free breakfast for you and your friends? Yep, that's right. It was your mom.

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