In terms of an experiment, where a hypothesis is first posited, then tested again and again for accuracy, I feel that I can say without hesitation that San Diego is lacking in its appreciation of the absurd, irreverent, and offbeat.
After spending nearly a week immersed in natural beauty, exchanging many a witticism with San Diego’s varied, sun-bleached residents, I have formed a rather disturbing theory: when it comes to sarcasm and random humor, the Left Coast is bereft most. Having waxed jocular with a number of waitresses, valets, and shop owners, it’s apparent that comfort, ceaselessly gorgeous weather, and image-conscious diets have all but eradicated the need for biting cynicism and insightfully witty commentary. Never have I appreciated the benefits of financial insecurity, self effacing tendencies, and a physique that is already a half written joke as much as I do now.
Of course, this editor feels that it would be remiss not to offer an alternate theory to explain the lack of laughs: it is possible, however remotely, that we are simply not as funny as we thought.
Editor’s note: No Californians were harmed in the making of terrible jokes. Annoyed, perhaps, but unharmed.