damonjustisntfunny.com

I suspect that, any day now, I will receive a virtual mailbag worth of emails and comments all espousing the same curious and perplexed interest that you all undoubtedly share. Certainly, up to this point, you have been barely able to withstand the urge to call me and immediately inquire on the subject. In fact: I suspect that “the network” is unable to handle the current electronic outcry, which, due the general silence on my end would imply, must be overwhelming the servers even as I type this.

When the network’s resources are again capable, I expect my deluge to overwhelm me. A typical missive, I imagine, will read as follows:

Dear Damon,

I am so confused! Why is your website address damonjustisntfunny.com when everyone knows you are so very funny all the time and if there was any one who just wasn’t funny, it wouldn’t be you? I suspect that maybe this is one of your ultra-funny jokes that, perhaps, I just can’t wrap my lesser mind around but I am hoping that you — omnificent one — can guide me in this time of darkness.

With all my love and money,
Your reader.

Well, let me take a moment out of my ultra-funny schedule to guide you:

The idea stemmed as I wrote a syndicated email column from Leeds, UK, which commented on my experiences living in England. (By syndicated email column I mean: I sent an email or two to everyone in my address book unsolicited — otherwise known as spamming — and prayed I wouldn’t encounter any complaints.) As I wrote about the absolute absurdity of the English and their general downfall since our liberation, I began to feel bad for the majority of my recipients because they were unable to opt out from their mandatory epistolary communiqué (much as the early settlers were unable to opt out of the tea tax). A few names came to mind immediately: those people who had hung up on me and returned my letters unopened most recently in the past.

During the composition of my second essay, on the futility of love in a post-modern era, I hatched a brilliant plan. I included the following at the bottom of my email:

If you would rather not receive emails like this in the future (which are ultimately just an attempt to illicit some response from my adored friends), please send an email to: damonjustisntfunny@yahoo.com. It is monitored by a third-party, so no feelings will be hurt. Honest.

Sadly, no one emailed me at my regular address or the damonjustisntfunny address, which I did create and monitor carefully, despite my claims of non-partisanship. The only use I got out of the false moniker was as a clever guise to buy illicit software before absconding back to the United States. What surprised me further was that no one phoned to mention that, in a dyslexic and Guinness-induced haze, I spelled “elicit” incorrectly or used “adored” when “adoring” probably would have made more sense.

While it may seem unlikely and a tad outrageous even, I must again blame “the network” — that fowl fiend and fickle foe of mine! — because, obviously, no one I know would have passed up an opportunity to criticize my grammatical and lexical choices.

Anyway: I had other ultra-clever ideas knocking around about what to name the web address for this site (such as: www.damontimm.com or www.postprandialnapper.com) but I went with this one instead.