Courtesy of wikipedia.org
I received a bizarre phone call from a friend as I sat in my recliner. My fractured knee was raised while I waited to hear from an orthopedic surgeon.
“Caroline,” the person began, “an 83-year-old friend is recovering from a broken hip and wants to receive therapy at your retirement facility. The trouble is, they refuse to admit her. Could you use your influence on her behalf?”
I laughed at the request, as many would who live in a retirement center. Inmates of these institutions have the least influence on management. That’s why my previous blog was a tribute to the kindness of friends and a few strangers, and not in praise of institutional care. Nevertheless, I heard my friend out to learn what I could do.
When he’d finished, I explained I had fallen and was waiting for the surgeon’s call. He brushed me off with a “sorry to hear it” and continued to pursue his mission. After that, he hung up, putting me in charge of the 83-year-old woman’s case, though I was as helpless as a turtle lying on its back. Nonetheless, I rang the reception desk at my facility and asked to be directed to the admittance czar. After three rings, a recorded message greeted me. Dismayed that I’d made no human contact, I sent my SOS into the ether. Truthfully, I had no more hope for a reply than if I had tossed a note in a bottle and set it adrift in the ocean.
Many times I’ve written about the cosmic laugh, so none of my readers should be surprised that I saw humor in the situation. Of all the residents in all the retirement centers on the planet, I was among the least likely to be of use to anyone, including myself.
Humor, it seems to me, is our best defense against an unpredictable world. In junior high school and again when I graduated the 12th grade, my classmates voted me the person with “the best sense of humor.” At the time, instead of being flattered, I felt disappointed. I’d have preferred being voted “most popular” or “most likely to succeed.”
Even so, age has taught me to prize humor above most attributes. An article in The Nation makes my point. (“Humanity Over Profit,” May 2026, pg. 4-5) Concerned about AI’s development, the author raised a critical question. Who should define the objectives of the new technology: billionaires whose goal is to become trillionaires, or citizens and their elected representatives?
For me, the answer lies in how much we prize humor. Charles Duhigg’s book, Supercommunicators, explains that laughter is one of the strongest bonds among humans, and works best when shared with equal intensity rather than matching a belly laugh with a smile. Laughter, he adds, is a primitive emotion and among the most enduring. So, faced with the question, “Who should be charged with AI’s development?” I say leave it to the comedians.
Who, better than jesters, understands human foibles? Saturday Night Live is peerless in its revelations. Stephen Colbert has no less a talent. He pierces political windbags with a word. As for Jimmy Kimmel? He was the “fool” who helped us see ourselves.
As I wait for an orthopedic surgeon to determine my future, I ponder that of mankind’s. My conclusion is that AI will be no threat to humanity as long as laughter prevails. People know when a chuckle is real or fake, an instinct honed over millennia. So, though a robot’s pitch, delivery, and timing may be perfect in response to a joke, no human will be fooled about whether the laugh is genuine. Therefore, my answer to the question, “Who is best suited to develop AI?” is simple. Send in the clowns.
BOYCOTT: Tesla, Apple, Amazon
