I love funny people. My favourite are always those who are truly gifted in the art of spontaneous mirth.
Now, being funny does not mean being a comedian or a comedic actor. Some look funny, some sound funny, some write funny, some are simply funny.
When I heard that Robin Williams, one of my fav funnymen, killed himself in a bout of depression. It brings a sense of deja vu. Most funnymen are clinical borderline depressed. Because humor is generally a shield against traumatic events or pressure from societal expectations. It is an ideal escape route from life's grim realities.
People hide it well of course, some take solace in religion, some in drugs, some in drink, some bury themselves in work, others embark on sex binge, even addiction to social media is an escape.
William Perry, who acted as Chandler in the highly successful Friends show, who took to pills and alcohol summed up the scenario as success induced, the more successful you are, the more you are likely to suffer from depression.
I am a funnyman, and therefore not immune to depression, but after burying a wife and a child, lost a big chunk of your nest eggs in stocks, lost opportunities, multiple accidents, multiple robberies, betrayals, etc, but was lucky to have wonderful kids, loyal friends, extremely wonderful wife, and a dose of self confidence so big it scares me sometimes, you manage to always put things in perspective.
Good night, Robin, you left the world a better place than you met it.
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