Old Chunk Of Coal
I was walking my dog the day after Norm died and I called my mate to tell her a load of his jokes. The moth one was in there, and so was the youthful porpoise one. I tried to tell them like him, but I just ended up sounding like Turd Ferguson, relentlessly chewing invisible gum and pausing where a pause need not be.
No-one could do it like Norm Macdonald.
I didn’t know Norm, so I can’t say that I loved him, but he was a good comedian, eh? He put the ‘professional stand-up comedian’ in ‘professional stand-up comedian’.
I didn’t feel a closeness to Norm, he wasn’t the one guy I always wanted to work with, he was just really, really funny.
That had a profound effect on me.
Like, a lot of people are funny, but Norm was really, really funny. In a way that no-one else was, is, or will be.
He told us he was an old chunk of coal, but we knew he was already a diamond.
There’s a lot to be said for those who make us laugh.
Listen, Gandhi did some great things, but… He wasn’t exactly reeling off the knock-knock jokes, was he? I don’t think I’m comparing the two, but Gandhi never really made me laugh! I’m sure he had a few ice-breakers tucked away, but, I dunno… The way to my heart is through laughter, I guess.
So Norm made his way into my heart because he made me smile.
I loved Norm Macdonald.
And I still will.
Be good, Norm.