Growing Up Laughing: My Story and the Story of Funny Read Online Free PDF

never knew what real happiness was until I
    got married—and by then, it was too late.
    •
    A Woman’s Prayer:
    “Dear Lord, I pray for the wisdom to understand my
husband, the love to forgive him, and the patience for his
moods. Because, Lord, if I pray for strength,
I’ll just beat him to death.”

Chapter 6
Stirring the Sauce with Joy Behar
    In a field that is predominantly male, mostly Jewish, with a few Irish thrown in, there is but one Italian, Catholic dame. I’ve been interviewed by Joy Behar on The View and on her own show, and I’ve seen her socially, as well. She bubbles with outspokenness and delights in her one-line zingers as much as you do. That’s what makes any outrageous thing she says acceptable. And funny. When you look at Joy, you can almost see the mischievous child in her eyes. As another daughter of an Italian mother, I understand the extended family in which she was brought up. Joy would have fit right in at the dinner table of my grandma, the drummer.
    —M.T.
    J oy: We are very Italian. Calabrese.
    Marlo: My mother was Sicilian.
    Joy: Calabrese, Sicilian—same thing. My uncle Joe used to carry a picture of Mussolini in his wallet. He’d tell us, “Mussolini wassa notta bad. Hitler wassa bad. Mussolini wassa nice.”
    Marlo: Oh, that’s really funny. My father’s nickname for my mother was Mussolini. I’m curious, how does your family react when you take on the Church? I read something you said—that “there are no saints anymore because of modern medication.”
    Joy: Well, that’s true, isn’t it? They were hearing voices, all those saints. They were psychotic. If they’d had a little Prozac, we wouldn’t have had any of these saints. I got in trouble with the Catholic Church for that.
    Marlo: I’ll bet.
    Joy: My aunt Joan called me from Pennsylvania to reprimand me. “How could you say that about the saints?”—you know, as if she’s the guardian of the saints!
    Marlo: You’ve also spoken out against Medicare coverage for Viagra.
    Joy: No, they misinterpreted that. What I said was that birth control doesn’t get any kind of health-care funding, but Viagra does. I said, “It’s the crack-cocaine of the nursing homes.”
    Marlo: That’s great. I love that.
    Joy: Because the old men there are all over everybody. What—are we going to be faking orgasms into our golden years now? How many more years do I have to do that?
    Marlo: I talked with Jerry Seinfeld about why so many comedians come from Brooklyn. You do, too.
    Joy: I don’t think it’s about Brooklyn, per se. I think it’s that many of us came from humble backgrounds and needed a way out. We needed a way to deal with the world and have some kind of power in it. You know, you feel powerless in Brooklyn. You’re not in Manhattan.
    Marlo: Right, right.
    Joy: It’s like growing up a beautiful woman. If you’re a really beautiful woman, you don’t have to develop a sense of humor. That’s why most women comedians are not beauties. Same with guys. If you walk into a room and everybody drops dead from your gorgeousness, why do you need to be funny?

    Marlo: Right. A lot of comics have told me they grew up not liking their looks.
    Joy: Everybody has that story. For me it was kinky, curly hair.
    Marlo: You had hair like that?
    Joy: I still do. My fifth grade teacher called me “Brillo Head.”
    Marlo: Oh, how awful!
    Joy: What a jerk he was.
    Marlo: What did you say back to him?
    Joy: I was in the fifth grade, his name was Mr. Frischer, and all I could come up with was to call him “Mr. Fish Cakes.” That was it—but I did answer him back. I’m the first one to make a joke about my hair—not you .
    Marlo: Your hair doesn’t look like Brillo now.
    Joy: That’s because I didn’t have a hairdresser in the fifth grade.
    Marlo: Do you remember your grandmother and grandfather? Were they from the old country?
    Joy: Yes, they all came from Calabria—which was a really rough ride for them. They came here right