A Jester Protester
https://youtu.be/D9n73JsZ2kU?feature=shared Once a week, I become a court jester, mocking modern tyranny in the only garb outrageous enough to survive the purge. Historically, only the jester could mock madness without losing his head—though these days, even the fool must dodge the falling blade. I meet tragedy with comedy now. Satire is my alchemy, turning unbearable reality and sorrow into survival. Laughing and crying offer a similar emotional release, but I would much rather laugh. Otherwise, I would collapse under the weight of despair. It all began on April Fools’ Day in 1988, when I first appeared on the Capitol steps in full jester regalia. My Republican congresswoman helped sponsor the act and showed up at noon to watch. Since then, one question has echoed louder than the bells on my hat: Who’s the real fool? My first live comic protest was a total bomb—figuratively, thank God. I called it a "FUNeral." The crowd wasn’t dying laughing, but I nearly was from stage ...