Every article about comedy should start with a joke. Here's mine:

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Me, Kristi Harrison.

What do you want?

The UPS guy accidentally delivered your package to my house and I brought it over.

Thanks, can you leave it on the porch?

Get it? Maybe I should let you in on the punchline. One, I'm homeless, and UPS doesn't deliver to the ditch where I lay my head at night. Two, there's a severed hand in the box. Tragedy + straight up lies + dismemberment = comedy, just like Patton Oswalt promised.

Amputations aside, from the moment we laugh at our own farts until the day we die (hopefully not from a horrifying fart disease), finding humor is what keeps most of us sane along the way. That's why it's easy to assume that comedy is a one-way street filled with joy and hilariously tiny clown cars. It's not. Comedy, like the Force, the moon, and what we now know about Michael Jackson, has a light and a dark side. And sometimes it feels like the dark side is winning.