The man reaches the apex of his humorous vocation in revolt. The best clown is the one who best simulates irritation. Whether it is the absurdity of petty everyday events, or impotence in the face of the universe, revolt springs up and essentially exposes the ridiculousness of his condition. All humor arises from a contrast: revolt arouses laughter because it is painful and absolutely useless. I say and go into the inevitable: is there anything funnier than blasphemies? An insect indignant at a god… He cries out, screams, fries his nerves in vain. In his rage, he resorts to offense, risking eternal punishment. For the pleasure of judging to scratch, in an instant, the reputation of an infinitely superior being, he places himself, vulnerable, as a candidate for the target of a terrible wrath. It has been said that all blasphemy is, at the bottom, a manifestation of dignity. Maybe this is right… What is laughable is that it is of no use at all.
The Man Reaches the Apex of His Humorous Vocation in Revolt
