Practical Jokes

Not a practical joke, though it could have been a benign one. Art installation by Konstantin Dimopoulous. Houston, Texas. March 23, 2013.

April Fool’s Day just passed. For well over a month, I mused on doing an April Fool’s joke on this site. I even enlisted my brother's help. We considered topics like

• rescuing and fostering fifteen greyhounds for whom I requested extra helping hands,

• taking a sabbatical from FrogDog and moving to Thailand to find myself,

• eloping over the Easter weekend with a fictional man recently met, and

• getting some kind of wacky tattoo.

Here’s the problem: I’m just not much of a practical joker.

In fact, I don’t even much like surprises. Shocks in general make me angry. I’m not the person for whom to throw a surprise party. Someone jumping out from behind a doorway to scare me doesn’t make me laugh once I realize the ruse—it makes me furious. Saying that you have “a surprise for me” or “news to share in person” will make me more anxious than excited.

But practical jokes take surprises to a different level.

Call me a spoil sport, but most practical jokes seem to border on bullying. How is it funny to cause someone pain, concern, worry, anxiety, stress, pain, shock, alarm, or guilt—and sometimes a combination? At the very least, these types of practical jokes are insensitive and lacking in empathy.

So no April Fool’s Day for me. And most Halloween and prankster holidays don’t appeal to me, either. And yes, I know it means I’m a party pooper to many—if not most.

Am I one of the few on this side of the fence? Am I missing a critical perspective that would make practical jokes a joy? Tell me:

Do you like surprises?