Kutukunata hapichkani sipinanpaq.  Chaymanta, nakasaq quwikunata yarqapim, manachayqa lliwmi yawarnin, chukchan wasiyta qachacharunqa.

I am chasing the male guinea pigs in order to viciously kill them.  Then, I will butcher the guinea pigs in the ditch; otherwise all their blood and hair will dirty my house.

Sigarru, kuka, tragu rantina kachkan.

We need to buy cigarettes, coca leaves, and liquor.

Amaláy sumaqta qaqchanmanku chay kuchiyuqkunata.

I hope that the pigs’ owners are severely scolded.

Nakarinkuchu runakuna qullqirayku?

Are people butchered for the sake of money? 

[A phrase mistakenly learned when the word for "butcher" (Naka) was confused with "suffer" (Ñaka).  Honest mistake.  Roughly the same answer.]

Ama kaspiwan maqaychu llamata.

Don’t hit the llama with a stick.

I don’t think it’s any coincidence that the vast majority of synonyms for comic entertainers carry negative connotations.  If you think of the ways you can insult a person without plunging into that ever-satisfying pool that is profanity, a good proportion of them relate to words describing a court jester or a comedian.  Fool.  Buffoon.  Simpleton.  Clown. 

I may be so totally off base that I’m wandering lost deep in the grassy solitude of the outfield, but it doesn’t seem all that farfetched to think that these words were intentionally given dismissive and demeaning characterizations because of the role jesters, particularly court jesters of Old Europe, played in monarch-ruled societies.  The court jester was given the lofty task of entertaining the king and his court, but in this oftentimes dangerous occupation lies the essence of the fool’s role: to tell the truth.  More than anyone else, the jester was given license to mock the king, vent the frustrations of the people, and so on, under the guise of comedy. 

The jester was unique in that he was allowed to speak truth to power.  And a successful jester could make himself virtually immune to the taunts, threats, and insults from powerful people that might not otherwise appreciate the humor directed towards them as much as their superior, the king.  In this respect, I wonder how much titles pertaining to or related to jesters and comedians were purposefully cultivated to take on less agreeable meanings to keep the power of comedy in check.

For instance, it is remarkably easy to see the same dismissal today whenever a comedian or satirist like Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert make an honest, valuable assessment or criticism in their comedy that is easily brushed off by the offending party as nonsense spoken by “some comedian” or ”just a comedian.”  Much the same way that many voters and politicians were quick to evaluate Senator Al Franken’s potential based on his history as a comedian.

Perhaps our society is due for a history lesson to broaden its awareness of what comedy truly does and is capable of. 

Just because the delivery isn’t serious, doesn’t mean there isn’t some serious truth in the message.

We should stop thinking about laughter as the best medicine and more along the lines of laughter as the best daily vitamin. 

(I know.  Not only is this a phenomenal quote I just invented, it’s relatively pithy as well.  This is so brilliant it could easily end up in one of any number of places in a Reader’s Digest.  Although, I do recall an article from the same publication when I last had to move my bowels at my mother’s house that suggested multivitamins may be essentially worthless.  Let’s pretend, however, that multivitamins are still in good standing.  It reinforces the quote by sticking to the whole “medical treatment” theme.)

Instead of suggesting that laughter can best be served by employing it in times of want or need (i.e., after the fact), I’d rather we think of laughter as an essential component to a healthy diet.  Intake frequently, copiously, and call me in the morning to share the buoyancy.