You strike up a conversation about irony. I casually recall reading Oedipus in high school English and we delve into an intelligent discussion about the Oedipus complex and situation irony. I suddenly start to feel very smart and silently congratulate myself, very classic Lacey…
You say the word irony and my brain immediate goes;
♫ It’s like raaa-ee-aaaaiiiinn on your wedding day…! ♫
Then to my utter horror I start to sing out loud even though I know the words I’m saying make absolutely no sense. Rain on your wedding day is not irony Alanis, it’s weather; possibly poor planning but definitively not irony. Forget the fact that you need a knife – why do you have ten thousands spoons? Are you in a spoon factory? Do spoon factories exist? My head starts to hurt; people are starting to stare but I can’t stop until I sing every single word. Finally it’s over but now I’m not sure what’s worse, the singing or the awkward silence that follows. I cut the tension with a sheepish laugh and ask – Don’t you just love that song?
Okay so maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration but I actually do love that song. Inaccuracies aside it conjures up a particular vivid memory from my childhood; it was right before we moved so I was eleven and home was a tiny two bedroom trailer where I lived with my mom, dad and little sister. I had just returned from school and my dad met me at the door; he looked particularly excited and explained that he had a surprise. I remember being confused because it wasn’t my birthday or anything but I shrugged it off, threw my book bag down in the porch and followed him in to the kitchen.
Dad had set up my portable CD player on the counter; it was a tiny, one disc player which until this point had only been used to record songs from the radio on to cassettes – wow, I just realized how long ago that was. Anyway, propped up against it, in all it’s originally glory was my very first CD: Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill.
I’d completely forgotten that a couple of weeks before Dad and I had spent hours combing through the Colombia House catalogue in search of five CDs; all of which we could order for the low, low price of just one penny (yeah right, anyone else remember that scam?). Now it was here, shiny and new, ready for me to sing along any time I wanted – truly magical. I still have it; the CD I mean.I think it’s particularly important because it represents the time in my life when I started making my own musical choices instead of just listening to whatever my parents were playing. That might not seem like much but for me it was a turning point; the beginning of my independence. Isn’t it wonderful how one little song can capture a memory like that?
I realize this post has very little to do with irony so far so I’ll leave you with this ironic television moment from last week; please note if you haven’t seen the third episode of The Walking Dead season five and don’t want any spoilers please don’t read any further
So our ragtag group of apocalypse survivors have managed to escape Terminus, a supposed “sanctuary” that turned out to be a cannibalistic colony headed by a smarmy looking guy named Gareth. While Terminus has been pretty much destroyed (thanks to Carol and an awesome fireworks display), Garth and a small group of terminates have escaped. They aren’t happy and this is making them particularly hungry. Long story short while out on a food run they capture our boy Bob, chop off this leg and chow down on some… BobBQ?
Then something magical happened…
Due to an unfortunate accident earlier that day and unbeknownst to anyone else in the group – Bob had been bitten and the irony of this moment is not lost on him. As he lies there, looking at his amputated leg and listening to Gareth yammer on about how pretty people taste better and bears, he begins to giggle; soft at first, then louder and more manic. Have Garth and crew just eaten the zombie equivalent to mad cow disease? Yes indeed.The irony is delicious.
Yet bittersweet; while I’ve been waiting and wanting Garth and his minions to get their comeuppance since the season four finale I was ultimately sad that it had to be at the expensive of Bob – who I was just getting to know and like. Then again irony is a cruel mistress and has never been known for being fair. All in all I still think karmic revenge irony is my favorite.
What’s your favorite kind of irony?
This post is response to this week’s The Daily Post writing challenge: Oh, The Irony