Falling with George

My name is George. I have an observation for you. So you might be wondering why it’s so funny when people fall down. As long as it’s not you, it’s almost always funny when you see others eat shit: politicians, actresses in high heels, your grandmother. Once when I was a kid, our family decided to take a walk with my grandmother and before we had cleared the driveway, I had accidentally tripped my grandmother and sent her sprawling onto unfriendly concrete. My mother was horrified and never more embarrassed in all her life. Except for the time when she walked in on me having sex for the first time. With a man. You can’t pretend you’re doing something else when, naked on all fours in front of you, is your cousin. Second cousin, of course. First is unthinkable. We all love to see drag queens fall too. It’s nothing malicious, mind you. They can just be such a downer. I mean, there’s a reason they’re called DRAG queens, not Jolly queens after all. Back to my observation. It’s the unexpected mingled with the wicked relief that it’s not you; or as the Germans call it: Schadenfreude.