Of all tragedies, a complete inability to see the value in spontaneous humour is probably the most tragic of all.

I once had a neighbour who was utterly humourless. He liked only jazz music of a certain style whose name escapes me, and he objected to all other forms of music. He considered folk music, and all modern popular music ("modern" meaning after 1955, I guess, to him) to be beneath contempt.

He also kept raising hell about the sound of my lawnmower, although he wasn't bothered by his own lawnmower's sound, strangely enough. He threatened to have me charged with disturbing the peace for mowing my lawn on Sunday one time. He made repeated demands that I should mow the lawn only at certain specific time intervals determined by him.

Accordingly, I bought an ass and put the lawnmower in storage. By allowing the ass free range of the lawn, I was enabled to have the grass trimmed regularly in almost complete silence.

I have since moved, but became so fond of the ass that I brought it with me to my new home. Anyone who doesn't approve of this thread is welcome to come over for a visit any old time and kiss it.