A large segment of the human population takes its own benefits too seriously. A strange anomaly is that most people laugh at the wrong and can not laugh at the right. This serious discrepancy has deprived people of a healthy attitude towards life in general.
Those who take life too seriously risk losing the great joys of living in a crazy world like ours. I'm not sure about scientific research, but I would suggest that for every sad moment it takes a hundred laughs to balance the books. Some people around ninety-nine laugh until the present sensible moment.
I like the old English proverb, which says: "Laughter, and the whole world laughs with you, crying, and you cry alone."
From my point of view, if you can't laugh with someone, you won't be able to cry with him or her, and that matters.
According to some medical recommendations, he takes more facial muscles and energy to frown than smile. Of course, the only exercise that some people have is frowning, and who am I to take it away from them.
I definitely, in spite of everything, realize my right to smile and laugh and enjoy the world around me. I must admit that I am very honest about this.
My paternal grandmother was a past master in practical jokes. There was not too much time to prepare for one of his famous jokes. His favorite holiday was April 1 and began to prepare for this holiday immediately after Christmas.
The fact that his practical jokes at times caused him trouble didn’t affect him in any way.
One day, while in the hospital for a long period of time, he had someone smuggled into which he could smell tobacco. For some reason, he liked chewing snuff. This is the most disgusting habit I know on earth.
He immediately received his smuggled goods, and then began to chew it. If you know something about a chewing scent, you know that he is accompanied by a lot of spittle. As usual, his time was impossible. Just as the head nurse walked past his door and peered inside, he bent and spat in the garbage, and he could stand next to the bed. The nurse, not knowing about the chewing snuffer, thought he was spitting blood and immediately sent to emergency mode. Immediately my grandmother was thrown into the operating room, and the surgeon and the medical team were assembled.
At that time, my grandmother was very sick. Some did not think he would leave the hospital.
Just as they found him in the operating room, he dropped his can of chewing tobacco from under his sheet and smiled at them. The only person in the room who thought it was funny is my grandmother. The doctors were so angry with him that they refused to see him for three days and confiscated their chewing tobacco bank.
My aunt and uncle lived next to my grandmother. My aunt was very clean when it came to her house. Dirt in any form was not welcome under its roof. She had a broom that was always within reach, because she never knew when a piece of dirt would try to invade her domicile.
That year my grandmother found something new. I'm not sure where he found him, but he probably spent a lot of time finding something like that. It was a rubber facsimile of a very unpleasant form of vomiting. For him it was a privileged possession.
Most of his practical jokes were performed on April 1st. Whenever we saw how grandfather came on that particular day, we usually ran for cover.
He went to my aunt and sat on the sofa in the living room. They chatted for a while, and then my grandmother coughed a little. He told my aunt, “I didn’t feel good, and then I started coughing a little seriously, to which my aunt got up and went to the kitchen to make his glass of water think that she could help him.
When she returned, she was shocked to see a very terrible sight on her new coffee table. My grandmother leaned over the coffee table, cracking and coughing as if he was dying. On the coffee table was a very unpleasant fluffy vomit.
My aunt went into hysterics. She turned around and after a moment grabbed her broom and headed towards my grandmother. My grandfather laughed, but not for long.
Suddenly he realized that a broom broom was aimed at him in my aunt’s hand. She kicked him out of the house, down the driveway, and at least three blocks screaming obscenities at him that I dare not repeat in public society.
Laughter is the fresh air of the soul. Even the Bible thinks so.
“A merry heart makes a cheerful face, but, grieving hearts, the spirit is destroyed” (Proverbs 15:13). And, my love, “A cheerful heart does good, like medicine, but a broken spirit warms the bones” (Proverbs 17:22).
I recommend a healthy dose of medicine for your soul.
