This has to be one of, if not the, most important things I’ve written about on this blog. Yes, even more important than your favorite post on this website. The other day I got the chance to sit down and speak with Paul Tremont, a local, unfunny man in his early thirties, and a group of his closest friends. I spoke with the two parties separately because I didn’t want Tremont to know the horrible truth about his sense of humor (or lack thereof).

“We’ve tried to talk to him.” says Stanley Chen, a good friend of Tremont’s. “But if we’re too forward about it he might do something we would all regret. I mean– if someone told me I wasn’t funny then I’d probably start wearing graphic t-shirts and move to the pacific northwest.” Words cannot express just how much I pitied Chen and all of Tremont’s friends in these trying times. I, of course, could never fully understand what they’re going through since I don’t associate myself with those who are of a baser degree when it comes to humor.

While the interview with Tremont’s friends went on, I finally got the chance to ask about the nature of the inside joke. “Well, I guess we can tell you.” says Janie Whitfield, another friend of Tremont. “The joke is ‘Hey, Fred Schneider, what are you doing?’ ” I quickly snorted through my nostrils to show the group that I could easily understand the sophisticated humor of this inside joke. “We made it up when we saw a guy who looked like Fred Schneider. He was pouring a bottle of maple syrup into a can of Pepsi Max at the time.”

I assume this phrase quickly became a memetic statement made when one of the members within the group did something strange or out of place. I commended them on their creativity and asked the group just how Tremont managed to run it into the ground.

“I don’t know if we can really get into it.” says Whitfield. “The wounds are still fresh and we’re all recovering from just how unfunny our friend Paul is.” I told them I understood and that I would speak with Tremont myself. The friends of this humorless man offered their most sincere gratitudes and I went on my way. Now, before you tell me I’m a hypocrite for associating myself with someone who isn’t funny at all, I must tell you that I’m doing this for the good of all society. The world must hear the tragic story of Paul Tremont.

However, when I sat down with Tremont I simply couldn’t look him in the face. A man with no sense of humor is hardly a man at all. Also, he tried to do that thing where you’re really sarcastic to someone right after meeting them and I just can’t stand that kind of stuff. I mean, where does he get off? I can’t believe this guy has any friends. When I questioned Tremont about the joke he told me “Yeah, I’m kind of the funny guy of the group. I’m always cracking wise and making awesome callbacks to inside jokes we’ve made.”

Once Tremont told me this I simply couldn’t be around him. I gave him my best wishes and went on my way. Why does God torture us in such a way? Why should any member of society be subjugated to a life without humor? I’m afraid I can’t answer these questions.