longing for the ridiculous

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Among the small jets of wistful, wishful recollection that pop up now and then, there is this: I miss the ridiculous.

Or perhaps I mean that I miss the friendships that include the capacity to segue now and then into a world of impish and quirky observation ... so pleasing in the smiles nourished in meaninglessness ... a place to bask without hope of solution or improvement or explanation. Silliness that makes fools of us all.

-- If you drove your car at the speed of light and turned on the headlights, would they work?
-- Instead of talking to your plants, if you yelled at them, would they still grow, only to be troubled and insecure?
-- What's another word for synonym?
-- Why do feet smell and noses run?
-- If a mute swears, does his mother wash his hands with soap?
-- Whose cruel idea was it for the word "lisp" to have an "S" in it?

Looking such things up on the Internet makes me realize more fully that it's not just the words ... it's the minds inclined to occasional, unpredictable and gob-stopping turns that I miss. Ridiculousness is like a little raspberry jam on what otherwise is too often Wonder Bread.
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