I started writing humor -- or trying, anyway, -- when my column launched in the Hartford Courant in 1982.
Right around that time, Roy Blount Jr. published his third book, his first pure humor collection, "One Fell Soup (or I'm Just a Bug on the Windshield of Life.") I read it. And then I read it again. And again. This was exactly the way I wanted to write. It was wildly funny, deeply educated and copious in the way Blount would set up a series of ideas and riffs like dominoes, often within one sentence, and make them topple into one another.
I became a kind of crazed fan. One night I was up a little bit late with some friends not far where I knew Blount lived. I mentioned that. "Call him up," they all yelled. "Invite him over." I did, which was a terrible idea. Fermented spirits were involved. We've invited him over today, again. This time he's coming.
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