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Humor Me: How Laughing More Can Make You Present, Creative, Connected, and Happy
From a comedian and host of a hit TED podcast, a hilarious and enlightening guide to laughing your way into a fuller life.
Ten years ago, when Chris Duffy was an exhausted fifth grade teacher, he taught the funniest person he's ever 11-year-old Gary C. Gary was the school newspaper's official food critic, blasting cafeteria pizza for looking like cardboard and alleging that the baked beans weren't "beany" enough. These days, Duffy is a comedian and the host of a podcast with millions of listeners, but he's never forgotten the joy of laughing with Gary during that bleak Boston winter. Gary taught him that a life without a sense of humor isn't much of a life at all.
With curiosity and wit, Duffy takes us on a journey to learn how a good laugh can bring us closer to the good life. When he endeavors to pay more attention to the world around him, he discovers that his once-dreary commute is laugh-out-loud think a rider catching a pigeon with his bare hands and Duffy's very own Russian mystic doppelganger. Using psychology and the wisdom of fellow comedians, Duffy reveals that a sense of humor can turn you into the kind of person others want to be around, someone who can be honest about their flaws without beating themselves up. It can teach us how to show up more generously in our most important relationships and how to handle the most painful parts of life without giving into despair.
For anyone who has tried out meditation, a new year's resolution or gratitude practice as a self-improvement strategy, HUMOR ME offers a fresh and exciting path to greater presence, creativity, connection and joy.
Ten years ago, when Chris Duffy was an exhausted fifth grade teacher, he taught the funniest person he's ever 11-year-old Gary C. Gary was the school newspaper's official food critic, blasting cafeteria pizza for looking like cardboard and alleging that the baked beans weren't "beany" enough. These days, Duffy is a comedian and the host of a podcast with millions of listeners, but he's never forgotten the joy of laughing with Gary during that bleak Boston winter. Gary taught him that a life without a sense of humor isn't much of a life at all.
With curiosity and wit, Duffy takes us on a journey to learn how a good laugh can bring us closer to the good life. When he endeavors to pay more attention to the world around him, he discovers that his once-dreary commute is laugh-out-loud think a rider catching a pigeon with his bare hands and Duffy's very own Russian mystic doppelganger. Using psychology and the wisdom of fellow comedians, Duffy reveals that a sense of humor can turn you into the kind of person others want to be around, someone who can be honest about their flaws without beating themselves up. It can teach us how to show up more generously in our most important relationships and how to handle the most painful parts of life without giving into despair.
For anyone who has tried out meditation, a new year's resolution or gratitude practice as a self-improvement strategy, HUMOR ME offers a fresh and exciting path to greater presence, creativity, connection and joy.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2026
About the author
Chris Duffy
95 books47 followersFrom his blog:
"I'm currently a freelance editor and writer--mostly for comics, though I speak English good and can write without pichers too."
"I'm currently a freelance editor and writer--mostly for comics, though I speak English good and can write without pichers too."
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 124 reviews
June 7, 2026
humor is subjective and unfortunately I don’t find him funny!!! enjoyed some of the science/psychology bits though
January 6, 2026
Chris Duffy’s "Humor Me: How Laughing More Can Make You Present, Creative, Connected, and Fun" arrives in a moment when laughter has become both ubiquitous and oddly scarce. We live inside a constant churn of jokes – clipped, captioned, algorithm-fed – yet many people report, quietly and without drama, that they feel less at ease with one another than they did before. The social muscles have softened; attention splinters; sincerity is often treated as a kind of aesthetic error. Duffy’s book does not pretend it can solve these conditions. It does something more modest and, in its way, more radical: it argues that humor is not primarily a performance skill but a form of human attention, one that can be practiced, shared, and ethically refined. It is a gentle book with a serious spine, and its seriousness is not the humorless kind.
Duffy is a comedian by trade, yet he writes less like a comic chasing laughs than like a person trying to locate the moral center of levity. The best self-help books are often rebranded philosophy; the best humor books are often disguised ethics. "Humor Me" belongs to that intersection. It has the accessible scaffolding of a practical guide – its three foundational “pillars” are laid out plainly, and the later chapters move into applied territory – but it is also, quietly, an argument about how to live among other people without turning yourself to stone.
The three pillars are straightforward enough to sound obvious until you realize how rarely they are treated as humor’s true ingredients. First: presence. Humor begins, Duffy insists, not with wit but with noticing. Most of life’s comedy is not invented so much as perceived. The world, in its daily absurdity, offers more material than we can absorb; what goes missing is not the supply but our attention. Duffy gives this idea a memorable framing: he describes the heightened awareness people have when encountering a new bathroom – the stranger’s toothpaste, the ominous bath mat, the weirdly aggressive hand soap – compared with the blur of one’s own familiar surroundings. Humor thrives on that “new bathroom” consciousness, that willingness to see the ordinary as newly strange.
Second: laughing at yourself. Duffy is careful here, and the care matters. Self-deprecation can be a doorway to humility or a long-term lease on shame. The line between the two is thin, and he treats it as such. Healthy self-directed humor is not self-hatred in costume; it is a kind of self-acceptance that doesn’t require constant dignity. To laugh at yourself is to admit imperfection without surrendering respect. It is, in the best cases, an expression of emotional flexibility – the ability to loosen the tight grip that embarrassment and fear have on the nervous system.
Third: taking social risks. This is the chapter that feels most addressed to our present, not because it references headlines but because it recognizes an ambient hesitancy in contemporary social life. Duffy’s claim is simple: humor is inherently social, and social connection requires vulnerability. A joke that lands feels effortless only because the risk it required has been successfully disguised. To be funny, in a human setting, is to offer a small piece of yourself without knowing what will come back. That is a muscle worth rebuilding.
So far, so familiar – yet what distinguishes Duffy is his refusal to treat humor as a dominance strategy. Some social-skills books, and even some comedy manuals, carry an unspoken premise: that the point is to win the room. Duffy’s premise is the opposite. The point is to make the room safer. In that sense, his book sits in the neighborhood of "Humor, Seriously," Jennifer Aaker and Naomi Bagdonas’s research-forward argument that levity improves belonging and leadership. But Duffy is less corporate, less diagrammatic, more emotionally supple. He reads at times like a cousin to Brené Brown – less sermon and more shrug – and at other moments like the better kind of improv teacher, the kind who understands that “yes, and” is not a trick but an ethic.
After the three pillars, the book shifts into what one might call application. Duffy explores the “math” of comedy – not to turn the reader into a joke technician, but to demystify the process and lower the stakes of trying. He leans on familiar theories (surprise, benign violation, pattern recognition) and frames failure as information rather than identity. This may sound small, but it addresses a quiet problem: many people are not afraid of humor, exactly; they are afraid of failing publicly. Duffy’s antidote is a kind of compassionate empiricism: a joke doesn’t land, you adjust, you try again, you learn. The point is not to become a person who always succeeds; it is to become a person who is willing to attempt connection.
There are chapters on magnetism and inside jokes, and in these Duffy’s sensibility is at its most persuasive. The book argues that charisma is less about sparkle than about attention. Magnetic people, in this account, are not those who dominate conversation but those who make others feel seen. Humor, practiced well, becomes less a display of cleverness than a form of hospitality. The inside joke – a phrase that means nothing to outsiders and everything to the people who share it – is treated as a kind of relational archive. It compresses memory into shorthand, turning shared experience into a portable token. In an era of thin ties and constant churn, this emphasis on accumulation, on the slow building of shared language, feels quietly countercultural.
The book’s most affecting passages arrive when Duffy approaches the darker edges of humor – its proximity to pain, its entanglement with grief, its capacity to comfort without denying reality. He dismantles the cliché that “laughter is the best medicine” by insisting on the dignity of actual medicine, actual care, actual grief. Humor is not a cure. But it can be, as he suggests, the second best medicine: a way to reclaim agency in moments when agency is scarce, a way to reduce isolation by making room for shared breath, shared absurdity, shared humanity. The chapter on laughing and crying belongs to that tradition of writing that understands emotional life as complex rather than binary. Laughter and tears are not enemies; they are neighboring expressions of overwhelm. The book’s insistence that humor can coexist with sorrow – without erasing it – is one of its most modern virtues, especially in a culture that oscillates between manic brightness and cynical detachment.
Then comes the ethical turn. Duffy’s chapter on “punching up” is not revolutionary, but it is necessary. We are living through a time when many people feel anxious about humor – not because they want to be cruel, but because the social ground has shifted and the costs of misreading a room can feel high. Duffy’s approach is neither permissive nor punitive. He argues, in essence, that humor is never neutral: it moves in a direction. If it moves toward the vulnerable, it tends to corrode trust; if it moves toward power, hypocrisy, and authority, it can function as a kind of accountability. The distinction is familiar, but he treats it as a practical compass rather than an ideological slogan.
The final chapter deepens this caution by examining humor’s shadows: irony used as emotional armor, jokes deployed to dodge accountability, cleverness mistaken for connection. The book’s title might suggest an easy devotion to levity, but Duffy ends with a warning that is, in its way, sobering: weaponized humor is worse than no humor at all. A person without humor may be rigid; a person who uses humor to belittle, evade, or dominate is something else entirely. It is a sharp ending for a gentle book, and it feels earned.
What, then, holds "Humor Me" back from unambiguous excellence? The answer is not a lack of intelligence or feeling – Duffy has both – but a certain softness of edge. At times the book seems determined not to offend anyone, and this restraint occasionally flattens its more provocative claims. The research is smoothly integrated, yet it sometimes functions as reinforcement rather than discovery. The narrative voice is warm and trustworthy, but it can also feel careful in a way that limits surprise. A book about humor need not be a laugh riot; still, one occasionally wishes for a sharper stylistic risk – a more daring leap, a more unsettling insight, a moment of genuine strangeness that would match the book’s argument about noticing the world anew. The prose is clean, the tone consistently humane, but it rarely tilts into the kind of linguistic or conceptual unpredictability that makes a nonfiction book feel singular rather than exemplary.
And yet, exemplary may be enough. In a time when attention is fragmented, when social confidence has been shaken, when many people feel uncertain about how to be together without either walking on eggshells or turning to cynicism, Duffy’s project feels not merely pleasant but relevant. He is not arguing for more jokes; he is arguing for more aliveness. Humor, in his telling, is a way of returning to the room – to the people in it and to oneself. It is a discipline of noticing, a practice of self-compassion, a willingness to risk small moments of connection. The book’s ambitions are not grandiose, but they are quietly moral. It asks the reader to become less defended.
In the end, "Humor Me" is a book that understands laughter as a form of care. It belongs to a growing shelf of contemporary nonfiction that tries to rebuild the interpersonal fabric without offering false certainty – books that recognize that modern life is not just busy but alienating, not just stressful but socially disorienting. If Aaker and Bagdonas provide a research-forward case for humor’s utility, and if the broader vulnerability literature provides a language for risk and shame, Duffy supplies something rarer: a warm, workable vision of humor as a daily practice, one that can accommodate grief, ethics, and the awkward beauty of trying. For that, it earns its 81 out of 100 – not perfect, but deeply worth keeping close, like a friend who doesn’t always have the best joke, yet always knows when you need to laugh.
Duffy is a comedian by trade, yet he writes less like a comic chasing laughs than like a person trying to locate the moral center of levity. The best self-help books are often rebranded philosophy; the best humor books are often disguised ethics. "Humor Me" belongs to that intersection. It has the accessible scaffolding of a practical guide – its three foundational “pillars” are laid out plainly, and the later chapters move into applied territory – but it is also, quietly, an argument about how to live among other people without turning yourself to stone.
The three pillars are straightforward enough to sound obvious until you realize how rarely they are treated as humor’s true ingredients. First: presence. Humor begins, Duffy insists, not with wit but with noticing. Most of life’s comedy is not invented so much as perceived. The world, in its daily absurdity, offers more material than we can absorb; what goes missing is not the supply but our attention. Duffy gives this idea a memorable framing: he describes the heightened awareness people have when encountering a new bathroom – the stranger’s toothpaste, the ominous bath mat, the weirdly aggressive hand soap – compared with the blur of one’s own familiar surroundings. Humor thrives on that “new bathroom” consciousness, that willingness to see the ordinary as newly strange.
Second: laughing at yourself. Duffy is careful here, and the care matters. Self-deprecation can be a doorway to humility or a long-term lease on shame. The line between the two is thin, and he treats it as such. Healthy self-directed humor is not self-hatred in costume; it is a kind of self-acceptance that doesn’t require constant dignity. To laugh at yourself is to admit imperfection without surrendering respect. It is, in the best cases, an expression of emotional flexibility – the ability to loosen the tight grip that embarrassment and fear have on the nervous system.
Third: taking social risks. This is the chapter that feels most addressed to our present, not because it references headlines but because it recognizes an ambient hesitancy in contemporary social life. Duffy’s claim is simple: humor is inherently social, and social connection requires vulnerability. A joke that lands feels effortless only because the risk it required has been successfully disguised. To be funny, in a human setting, is to offer a small piece of yourself without knowing what will come back. That is a muscle worth rebuilding.
So far, so familiar – yet what distinguishes Duffy is his refusal to treat humor as a dominance strategy. Some social-skills books, and even some comedy manuals, carry an unspoken premise: that the point is to win the room. Duffy’s premise is the opposite. The point is to make the room safer. In that sense, his book sits in the neighborhood of "Humor, Seriously," Jennifer Aaker and Naomi Bagdonas’s research-forward argument that levity improves belonging and leadership. But Duffy is less corporate, less diagrammatic, more emotionally supple. He reads at times like a cousin to Brené Brown – less sermon and more shrug – and at other moments like the better kind of improv teacher, the kind who understands that “yes, and” is not a trick but an ethic.
After the three pillars, the book shifts into what one might call application. Duffy explores the “math” of comedy – not to turn the reader into a joke technician, but to demystify the process and lower the stakes of trying. He leans on familiar theories (surprise, benign violation, pattern recognition) and frames failure as information rather than identity. This may sound small, but it addresses a quiet problem: many people are not afraid of humor, exactly; they are afraid of failing publicly. Duffy’s antidote is a kind of compassionate empiricism: a joke doesn’t land, you adjust, you try again, you learn. The point is not to become a person who always succeeds; it is to become a person who is willing to attempt connection.
There are chapters on magnetism and inside jokes, and in these Duffy’s sensibility is at its most persuasive. The book argues that charisma is less about sparkle than about attention. Magnetic people, in this account, are not those who dominate conversation but those who make others feel seen. Humor, practiced well, becomes less a display of cleverness than a form of hospitality. The inside joke – a phrase that means nothing to outsiders and everything to the people who share it – is treated as a kind of relational archive. It compresses memory into shorthand, turning shared experience into a portable token. In an era of thin ties and constant churn, this emphasis on accumulation, on the slow building of shared language, feels quietly countercultural.
The book’s most affecting passages arrive when Duffy approaches the darker edges of humor – its proximity to pain, its entanglement with grief, its capacity to comfort without denying reality. He dismantles the cliché that “laughter is the best medicine” by insisting on the dignity of actual medicine, actual care, actual grief. Humor is not a cure. But it can be, as he suggests, the second best medicine: a way to reclaim agency in moments when agency is scarce, a way to reduce isolation by making room for shared breath, shared absurdity, shared humanity. The chapter on laughing and crying belongs to that tradition of writing that understands emotional life as complex rather than binary. Laughter and tears are not enemies; they are neighboring expressions of overwhelm. The book’s insistence that humor can coexist with sorrow – without erasing it – is one of its most modern virtues, especially in a culture that oscillates between manic brightness and cynical detachment.
Then comes the ethical turn. Duffy’s chapter on “punching up” is not revolutionary, but it is necessary. We are living through a time when many people feel anxious about humor – not because they want to be cruel, but because the social ground has shifted and the costs of misreading a room can feel high. Duffy’s approach is neither permissive nor punitive. He argues, in essence, that humor is never neutral: it moves in a direction. If it moves toward the vulnerable, it tends to corrode trust; if it moves toward power, hypocrisy, and authority, it can function as a kind of accountability. The distinction is familiar, but he treats it as a practical compass rather than an ideological slogan.
The final chapter deepens this caution by examining humor’s shadows: irony used as emotional armor, jokes deployed to dodge accountability, cleverness mistaken for connection. The book’s title might suggest an easy devotion to levity, but Duffy ends with a warning that is, in its way, sobering: weaponized humor is worse than no humor at all. A person without humor may be rigid; a person who uses humor to belittle, evade, or dominate is something else entirely. It is a sharp ending for a gentle book, and it feels earned.
What, then, holds "Humor Me" back from unambiguous excellence? The answer is not a lack of intelligence or feeling – Duffy has both – but a certain softness of edge. At times the book seems determined not to offend anyone, and this restraint occasionally flattens its more provocative claims. The research is smoothly integrated, yet it sometimes functions as reinforcement rather than discovery. The narrative voice is warm and trustworthy, but it can also feel careful in a way that limits surprise. A book about humor need not be a laugh riot; still, one occasionally wishes for a sharper stylistic risk – a more daring leap, a more unsettling insight, a moment of genuine strangeness that would match the book’s argument about noticing the world anew. The prose is clean, the tone consistently humane, but it rarely tilts into the kind of linguistic or conceptual unpredictability that makes a nonfiction book feel singular rather than exemplary.
And yet, exemplary may be enough. In a time when attention is fragmented, when social confidence has been shaken, when many people feel uncertain about how to be together without either walking on eggshells or turning to cynicism, Duffy’s project feels not merely pleasant but relevant. He is not arguing for more jokes; he is arguing for more aliveness. Humor, in his telling, is a way of returning to the room – to the people in it and to oneself. It is a discipline of noticing, a practice of self-compassion, a willingness to risk small moments of connection. The book’s ambitions are not grandiose, but they are quietly moral. It asks the reader to become less defended.
In the end, "Humor Me" is a book that understands laughter as a form of care. It belongs to a growing shelf of contemporary nonfiction that tries to rebuild the interpersonal fabric without offering false certainty – books that recognize that modern life is not just busy but alienating, not just stressful but socially disorienting. If Aaker and Bagdonas provide a research-forward case for humor’s utility, and if the broader vulnerability literature provides a language for risk and shame, Duffy supplies something rarer: a warm, workable vision of humor as a daily practice, one that can accommodate grief, ethics, and the awkward beauty of trying. For that, it earns its 81 out of 100 – not perfect, but deeply worth keeping close, like a friend who doesn’t always have the best joke, yet always knows when you need to laugh.
February 23, 2026
Library/Libro.FM ALC I meant to start sooner but the library book has arrived, therefore, I am once again, reading 3 different things at once.
This was an interesting read. I appreciate that it was a good amount of humor and written in away that wasn't too over the top. Did I learn something from this selfhelp read? Probably?
This was an interesting read. I appreciate that it was a good amount of humor and written in away that wasn't too over the top. Did I learn something from this selfhelp read? Probably?
January 17, 2026
Chris Duffy has offered an antidote to the anxiety and isolation so many of us are feeling. This book outlines simple and practical strategies for adding more laughter to your life. A fun and insightful read, strongly recommend.
February 16, 2026
I picked this book because I liked the title and the cover. I am so glad I read it and have recommended it to many people I know. As a retired Class Clown and current annoying Library Clown, I appreciate all the research!
January 11, 2026
Message is good, execution wasn’t my favorite.
January 14, 2026
I love Chris Duffy’s podcast and this book is like treating yourself to an extended version. I listened to it while winding down in the evenings. He will make you laugh while also making you think deeply about a topic — in this case humor itself. I enjoyed it!
February 9, 2026
DNF. Didn’t last long. I didn’t think his student was the comedic genius the author thinks, and he doubles down and won’t stop talking (audiobook) about how funny the kid is. So, stopped listening cuz if those are the high/most funny points….
Disclosure: didn’t and still don’t know who the author is, and how he got a book deal.
Disclosure: didn’t and still don’t know who the author is, and how he got a book deal.
January 18, 2026
This guy has done it again. I’ve seen him do stand up and got his newsletter so thought I’d read his book. I’ve always thought there was some misunderstood power to humor and joyful curiosity (which is hard to actually maintain and sounds super cheesy) and I think this guy gives one of the better explanations for it all. To me, this is why some of the funniest people are actually the most insightful - I can’t even count the number of times I laughed out loud listening to John Stewart or Dave Chappelle all those years ago and thought ‘whew they’re onto something’. Chris Duffy is on to something
January 20, 2026
Humor is like a muscle, the more you do it the easier and stronger it becomes. Humor also is a fine line and staying in the moment realizing, people around you, context, and not forcing it. This audio was an interesting listen and how laughing can be a medicine in a bleak, sad, and sometimes hopeless world we live in.
April 13, 2026
A book that highlights the constructs of humor while also making you laugh! We all need more humor in our lives, so it’s great to consume a book about it. (Audiobook narration a positive addition to humor experenced).
January 29, 2026
I didn’t know what this book was about before I started reading it. It was fun.
March 30, 2026
Listened on audio - made me laugh out loud many times. Definitely agree with the overall message that laughter is a huge part of daily happiness!
January 16, 2026
Encourage everyone to read this book. I both laughed out loud and learned to appreciate the value of humor in our current world. It’s a quick read. Don’t miss it!
March 28, 2026
Chris Duffy, a comedian and podcaster, has written a how-to manual on humor. It was fascinating, often funny (especially the footnotes) and I learned something, all signs of a good and useful book.
January 9, 2026
A wonderful insights on how to better connect with people through laughter and joy!
January 10, 2026
OMG this was like listening to my son in law, Sean, for 6 hrs 22 min. Funny, smart and very energetic!😊
January 13, 2026
An absolute delight. Chris Duffy blends humor (surprise!), personal experience, and comprehensive research in a unique and entertaining way. Highly recommend!
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
Funny, interesting, and excellent lessons on the power of humor.
February 14, 2026
I throughly enjoyed this book. It is a good blend of research and anecdotes which kept my interest. I wish we all can learn to laugh a little bit more.
March 11, 2026
Did not learn anything I did not already know. Humor releases tension with the chemical endorphis produced in the body. Laughter can be infectious. It is the music of the soul, the sound of joy bubbling up. This last line was not from the book. The first part a quote from an unknown source the last my own.
I felt the author was filling up pages just to sell a book. Perhaps not a good read during the thoughtful days of Lent.
I felt the author was filling up pages just to sell a book. Perhaps not a good read during the thoughtful days of Lent.
Want to Read
September 29, 2026As heard on The Happiness Lab with Dr. Laurie Santos - Want More Joy? Try Taking Yourself Less Seriously with Comedian Chris Duffy
https://omny.fm/shows/the-happiness-l...
When we’re exhausted, overworked, or just going through a difficult time, our instinct is often to put our heads down and simply focus on getting through it. But those serious moments may actually be when we benefit from a little silliness and absurdity the most.
Laurie explores the science of humor with comedian Chris Duffy, host of How to Be a Better Human and author of the new book Humor Me: How Laughing More Can Make You Present, Creative, Connected, and Happy. Chris shares what he’s learned about how to find humor in almost any situation — and how embracing the funny can improve our wellbeing in surprising ways.
Experts Mentioned:
Chris Duffy, comedian, author, and host of How to Be a Better Human E. B. White, writer and essayist Mimi M.Y. Tse, Assistant Professor at The Hong Kong Polytechnic University Ross Gay, poet, essayist, and Professor of English at Indiana University Annie Rauwerda, creator of “Depths of Wikipedia” Aparna Nancherla, comedian and author Greg Bryant, Professor of Communication at UCLA Adam Mastroianni, experimental psychologist and authorResources Mentioned:
Humor Me: How Laughing More Can Make You Present, Creative, Connected, and Happy, by Chris Duffy (2026) How to Be a Better Human, TED podcast hosted by Chris Duffy “The impression management benefits of humorous self-disclosures: How humor influences perceptions of veracity,” by T. Bradford Bitterly and Maurice Schweitzer (Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes, 2019) “The effect of a pratfall on increasing interpersonal attractiveness,” by Elliot Aronson, Ben Willerman, and Joanne Floyd (Human Learning and Thinking, 1966) “Humor Therapy: Relieving Chronic Pain and Enhancing Happiness for Older Adults,” Mimi Tse, Anna Lo, Tracy Cheng, Eva Chan, Annie Chan, and Helena Chung (Journal of Aging Research, 2010) The Book of Delights: Essays, by Ross Gay (2019) Listers: A Glimpse Into Extreme Birdwatching, directed by Owen Reiser (2025) “Depths of Wikipedia” “Hello, stranger? Pleasant conversations are preceded by concerns about starting one,” by Juliana Schroeder, Donald Lyons, and Nicholas Epley (Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 2022) “The Perception of Spontaneous and Volitional Laughter Across 21 Societies,” by Greg Bryant et al. (Psychological Science, 2018) “Neural substrates of spontaneous musical performance: an FMRI study of jazz improvisation,” by Charles Limb and Allen Braun (PLoS One, 2008) “Good conversations have lots of doorknobs,” by Adam Mastroianni (Experimental History, 2022)Related Episodes:
“Laurie Gets a Fun-tervention (Part One)” “The Surprising Case for Oversharing” “How To Embrace Imperfection”See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
https://omny.fm/shows/the-happiness-l...
June 15, 2026
I thought this book would be full of funny antidotes and tips on how to find humor in life. I honestly felt like I was reading a research paper.
I think the author tried to sprinkle in his own humor through footnotes, but I would have preferred them in the body of the page as opposed to the various quotes from research studies. And if the footnote continues to the next page, it just doesn't feel like a footnote.
I'm disappointed because I had high hopes for a book written by a teacher-turned-comedian. I made it about halfway before moving on.
I think the author tried to sprinkle in his own humor through footnotes, but I would have preferred them in the body of the page as opposed to the various quotes from research studies. And if the footnote continues to the next page, it just doesn't feel like a footnote.
I'm disappointed because I had high hopes for a book written by a teacher-turned-comedian. I made it about halfway before moving on.
February 26, 2026
I received an advanced reader copy of this book.
So many thought leader I really like and admire were recommending this book, and I’m also a big fan of the How to Be a Better Human podcast, so I was very excited to give it a go. Unfortunately, it feels like the PR team for this book is incredible, and this book really missed the mark for me. There are too many side notes, mediocre jokes, and sarcastic comments that don’t add value.
So many thought leader I really like and admire were recommending this book, and I’m also a big fan of the How to Be a Better Human podcast, so I was very excited to give it a go. Unfortunately, it feels like the PR team for this book is incredible, and this book really missed the mark for me. There are too many side notes, mediocre jokes, and sarcastic comments that don’t add value.
March 12, 2026
I don't know why I read this lol. I thought it was going to be more interesting, more scientific, more novel, but it was filled with very few interesting bits, and more mundane "start a convo with someone on the commute!" or "host a party where everyone wears a tshirt that's been lived in for 3 days and you guess the person's smell! It's HILARIOUS!"
Read
April 12, 2026"Humor Me: How Laughing More Can Make You Present, Creative, Connected, and Happy" by Christopher Duffy explores humor as a transformative skill that anyone can learn to improve well-being, creativity, and connection. The book challenges the common assumption that humor is a natural gift reserved for a lucky few. Instead, it frames humor as a practical tool that can reduce stress, improve health, foster relationships, and even help people endure difficult circumstances. By cultivating awareness, learning to laugh at oneself, and taking small social risks, humor becomes an active practice that reshapes daily life.
The book emphasizes that humor begins with presence. Most people move through life on autopilot, repeating routines while filtering out what feels ordinary. The mind saves energy by ignoring familiar details, but this habit also dulls awareness. Humor lives in the overlooked details, in oddities, in the small contradictions that fill everyday life. To rediscover humor, one must slow down and notice what is usually ignored. The author highlights that mundane environments are filled with quiet absurdities, and that by becoming more observant, the world becomes richer and more interesting. Children instinctively do this because everything is new to them. Adults can relearn it by breaking routine, paying attention to surroundings, and allowing curiosity to re-enter everyday experience.
A second central idea is learning to laugh at oneself. People who take every mistake seriously create tension in themselves and others. They interpret minor errors as personal failures and become trapped in self-consciousness. In contrast, those who acknowledge their imperfections with humor tend to be perceived as more likable and trustworthy. Laughing at oneself removes the sting from embarrassment and signals safety to others. This does not mean engaging in harsh self-criticism disguised as humor, but rather embracing human fallibility with compassion. When individuals treat mistakes lightly, they invite others to feel safe and accepted. This strengthens relationships and fosters openness in social interactions.
The book also explores how humor supports connection through small social risks. Many people avoid initiating interactions because they fear awkwardness or rejection. However, moments of connection often begin with simple, honest observations that acknowledge shared experiences. Humor helps bridge these gaps. It does not require cleverness or performance but sincerity and awareness. A small comment about a shared situation can transform an otherwise disconnected moment into a brief bond. This process strengthens social ties and combats isolation. By treating humor as a bridge rather than a performance, people can create more genuine interactions in daily life.
Humor has deep social and emotional benefits. Shared laughter releases chemicals in the brain that foster pleasure and connection, creating a sense of safety and trust. It reduces tension in groups and encourages creativity. In environments where people feel safe enough to be playful, innovative ideas emerge more easily. Humor also lowers stress levels and supports physical health by reducing tension and improving mood. It transforms everyday moments by making them feel lighter and more meaningful.
Beyond individual benefits, humor plays an essential role in resilience. Throughout history, groups facing hardship and oppression have used humor as a means of survival and resistance. Communities subjected to discrimination, war, or trauma have developed sharp humor traditions to preserve dignity and agency. Soldiers, medical professionals, and others working in high-stress environments often rely on humor to cope with difficult realities. This form of humor does not deny suffering but coexists with it. It allows people to maintain emotional balance and humanity in difficult circumstances. Humor becomes a way to process hardship without being overwhelmed by it.
The book clarifies that humor does not erase grief or invalidate pain. Instead, it allows joy and sorrow to coexist. People can experience grief and still laugh, because both are expressions of being human. Humor provides space to breathe in difficult times and reminds individuals of their resilience. It acts as a reminder that even in struggle, there is room for connection and lightness.
Practicing humor changes daily life. Becoming more present, laughing at personal imperfections, and reaching out to others cultivates a deeper sense of connection and emotional resilience. Humor makes challenges feel more manageable and enhances creativity by encouraging playful thinking. It invites people to live more fully and to engage with the world in a way that feels alive and meaningful.
In conclusion, "Humor Me: How Laughing More Can Make You Present, Creative, Connected, and Happy" presents humor as a skill that enhances nearly every aspect of life. By becoming more aware of the world, treating oneself with kindness, and embracing small moments of connection, individuals can transform their experiences. Humor deepens relationships, strengthens resilience, improves well-being, and fosters creativity. The book shows that humor is not merely a way to escape reality but a means to engage with it more fully, offering connection, meaning, and joy even in difficult times.
The book emphasizes that humor begins with presence. Most people move through life on autopilot, repeating routines while filtering out what feels ordinary. The mind saves energy by ignoring familiar details, but this habit also dulls awareness. Humor lives in the overlooked details, in oddities, in the small contradictions that fill everyday life. To rediscover humor, one must slow down and notice what is usually ignored. The author highlights that mundane environments are filled with quiet absurdities, and that by becoming more observant, the world becomes richer and more interesting. Children instinctively do this because everything is new to them. Adults can relearn it by breaking routine, paying attention to surroundings, and allowing curiosity to re-enter everyday experience.
A second central idea is learning to laugh at oneself. People who take every mistake seriously create tension in themselves and others. They interpret minor errors as personal failures and become trapped in self-consciousness. In contrast, those who acknowledge their imperfections with humor tend to be perceived as more likable and trustworthy. Laughing at oneself removes the sting from embarrassment and signals safety to others. This does not mean engaging in harsh self-criticism disguised as humor, but rather embracing human fallibility with compassion. When individuals treat mistakes lightly, they invite others to feel safe and accepted. This strengthens relationships and fosters openness in social interactions.
The book also explores how humor supports connection through small social risks. Many people avoid initiating interactions because they fear awkwardness or rejection. However, moments of connection often begin with simple, honest observations that acknowledge shared experiences. Humor helps bridge these gaps. It does not require cleverness or performance but sincerity and awareness. A small comment about a shared situation can transform an otherwise disconnected moment into a brief bond. This process strengthens social ties and combats isolation. By treating humor as a bridge rather than a performance, people can create more genuine interactions in daily life.
Humor has deep social and emotional benefits. Shared laughter releases chemicals in the brain that foster pleasure and connection, creating a sense of safety and trust. It reduces tension in groups and encourages creativity. In environments where people feel safe enough to be playful, innovative ideas emerge more easily. Humor also lowers stress levels and supports physical health by reducing tension and improving mood. It transforms everyday moments by making them feel lighter and more meaningful.
Beyond individual benefits, humor plays an essential role in resilience. Throughout history, groups facing hardship and oppression have used humor as a means of survival and resistance. Communities subjected to discrimination, war, or trauma have developed sharp humor traditions to preserve dignity and agency. Soldiers, medical professionals, and others working in high-stress environments often rely on humor to cope with difficult realities. This form of humor does not deny suffering but coexists with it. It allows people to maintain emotional balance and humanity in difficult circumstances. Humor becomes a way to process hardship without being overwhelmed by it.
The book clarifies that humor does not erase grief or invalidate pain. Instead, it allows joy and sorrow to coexist. People can experience grief and still laugh, because both are expressions of being human. Humor provides space to breathe in difficult times and reminds individuals of their resilience. It acts as a reminder that even in struggle, there is room for connection and lightness.
Practicing humor changes daily life. Becoming more present, laughing at personal imperfections, and reaching out to others cultivates a deeper sense of connection and emotional resilience. Humor makes challenges feel more manageable and enhances creativity by encouraging playful thinking. It invites people to live more fully and to engage with the world in a way that feels alive and meaningful.
In conclusion, "Humor Me: How Laughing More Can Make You Present, Creative, Connected, and Happy" presents humor as a skill that enhances nearly every aspect of life. By becoming more aware of the world, treating oneself with kindness, and embracing small moments of connection, individuals can transform their experiences. Humor deepens relationships, strengthens resilience, improves well-being, and fosters creativity. The book shows that humor is not merely a way to escape reality but a means to engage with it more fully, offering connection, meaning, and joy even in difficult times.
April 21, 2026
2.5 stars. I wanted to love this book, but I just didn’t! Maybe I came to it with too high expectations? I think his message is great, but somehow the execution of it fell really flat for me. I had some smiles throughout but over all I was trudging through wanting to get to another book -something more engaging.
April 14, 2026
This is one of those books that if it hadn't been about humor might have seemed much funnier. Instead, it's a vaguely interesting book that backs up what we pretty much already know with some academic research from psychology and social science, mixed with some explanatory anecdotes and pertinent quotes.
Humor Me is very well researched for a book about what we might consider as applied humor, and it was interesting to read as I was going along, but I get the sense that very little of it will stick with me. I will remember the idea of encryption theory, that humor is a sort of social code to see if the person perceiving what you say will get it and be part of your in-group. From an evolutionary perspective it makes sense, though I might not have considered it in that way had Duffy not noted that element.
Initially, the author focuses on three pillars of humor: being present (and really noticing the world around you instead of burying yourself in your phone), being willing to laugh at yourself and notice the inherent absurdity of yourself and humanity, and being willing to take social risks. I think I already do that in my life, though I tend to think of my use as silliness rather than humor, per se. Potato, potahto.
The introduction and first three chapters set the stage and felt like a textbook on understanding the psychology of humor. The chapter on the "math" or logistics of comedy was a mini lesson in how to be funny, as if it were a comedy class that started with the idea that the letter K is inherently amusing. The points were apt, if general, though not necessarily reflective of my own brand of humor.
The chapter on social connections was interesting, but a little dry. I was sad to have my own theory validated by social science, that straight men struggle with using humor to connect rather than to "perform." An early paragraph talks about the epidemic of loneliness (but, thankfully, not from the perspective that it's women's job to fix it) and how men with friendships based on common interests rather than emotional connection are the most likely to lose friends over time. Duh. Humor is relational; friendship is relational. I'm not sure whether this could be revelatory to anyone but a straight man, but OK.
(Note: Duffy's footnote about how this phrasing of a particular sentence made him sound the least like a straight man made me stop to ponder whether there was any inherent homophobia in what prompted him to write that portion. I decided no, particularly because near the end of the book, Duffy tells an anecdote about an ill-timed joke he made because he allegedly did not know that sickle cell anemia is primarily a condition experienced by Blacks/people of African background. I'm not sure how any adult could not know that, but my sense of Duffy is that he's book smart, goofy, and a twinge clueless about things one might expect him to know, but well-intentioned.)
The remaining chapters look at how humor can be used to form identities, heal, innovate, drive social change, and support resilience in grief. The book ends with a look at how to avoid the bad aspects of humor (like bullying) and offers an lovely example of how his centenarian friend embraced a life of humor.
It's all perfectly pleasant. My instinct was to give it 3 1/2 stars, rounding up to four. On the one hand, this book took me a month to read, two-to-four times as long as it usually takes me to finish a non-fiction book. It wasn't a hard read, but it wasn't one that had me eager to rush back to continue reading it, so I found myself wandering toward other pursuits. This may not be the author's fault and could be the nature of the world right now not being so very funny.
Duffy does many things well with the book. His research is spot-on without making this feel like an academic tome, and I copied down a number of the books mentioned to seek them out later. (I'm particularly eager to read The Revolution Will Be Hilarious: Comedy for Social Change and Civic Power.) There's levity on every page, with amusing footnotes throughout. I wouldn't say the book as a whole is funny, per se; at no point did I laugh out loud. But I did chuckle frequently. Which brings me back to the fact that had the book not been on the topic of humor, I might have found the book more humorous.
Finally, it's worth reading the index, because Duffy got very silly with some of the entries.
Humor Me is very well researched for a book about what we might consider as applied humor, and it was interesting to read as I was going along, but I get the sense that very little of it will stick with me. I will remember the idea of encryption theory, that humor is a sort of social code to see if the person perceiving what you say will get it and be part of your in-group. From an evolutionary perspective it makes sense, though I might not have considered it in that way had Duffy not noted that element.
Initially, the author focuses on three pillars of humor: being present (and really noticing the world around you instead of burying yourself in your phone), being willing to laugh at yourself and notice the inherent absurdity of yourself and humanity, and being willing to take social risks. I think I already do that in my life, though I tend to think of my use as silliness rather than humor, per se. Potato, potahto.
The introduction and first three chapters set the stage and felt like a textbook on understanding the psychology of humor. The chapter on the "math" or logistics of comedy was a mini lesson in how to be funny, as if it were a comedy class that started with the idea that the letter K is inherently amusing. The points were apt, if general, though not necessarily reflective of my own brand of humor.
The chapter on social connections was interesting, but a little dry. I was sad to have my own theory validated by social science, that straight men struggle with using humor to connect rather than to "perform." An early paragraph talks about the epidemic of loneliness (but, thankfully, not from the perspective that it's women's job to fix it) and how men with friendships based on common interests rather than emotional connection are the most likely to lose friends over time. Duh. Humor is relational; friendship is relational. I'm not sure whether this could be revelatory to anyone but a straight man, but OK.
(Note: Duffy's footnote about how this phrasing of a particular sentence made him sound the least like a straight man made me stop to ponder whether there was any inherent homophobia in what prompted him to write that portion. I decided no, particularly because near the end of the book, Duffy tells an anecdote about an ill-timed joke he made because he allegedly did not know that sickle cell anemia is primarily a condition experienced by Blacks/people of African background. I'm not sure how any adult could not know that, but my sense of Duffy is that he's book smart, goofy, and a twinge clueless about things one might expect him to know, but well-intentioned.)
The remaining chapters look at how humor can be used to form identities, heal, innovate, drive social change, and support resilience in grief. The book ends with a look at how to avoid the bad aspects of humor (like bullying) and offers an lovely example of how his centenarian friend embraced a life of humor.
It's all perfectly pleasant. My instinct was to give it 3 1/2 stars, rounding up to four. On the one hand, this book took me a month to read, two-to-four times as long as it usually takes me to finish a non-fiction book. It wasn't a hard read, but it wasn't one that had me eager to rush back to continue reading it, so I found myself wandering toward other pursuits. This may not be the author's fault and could be the nature of the world right now not being so very funny.
Duffy does many things well with the book. His research is spot-on without making this feel like an academic tome, and I copied down a number of the books mentioned to seek them out later. (I'm particularly eager to read The Revolution Will Be Hilarious: Comedy for Social Change and Civic Power.) There's levity on every page, with amusing footnotes throughout. I wouldn't say the book as a whole is funny, per se; at no point did I laugh out loud. But I did chuckle frequently. Which brings me back to the fact that had the book not been on the topic of humor, I might have found the book more humorous.
Finally, it's worth reading the index, because Duffy got very silly with some of the entries.
March 22, 2026
Talking to another person is like rock climbing, except you are my rock wall and I am yours. If you reach up, I can grab on to your hand, and we can both hoist ourselves skyward. Maybe that’s why a really good conversation feels a little bit like floating.
Funny writing, which can be hard to do! I am the type of person who finds most people and their humor really funny, can laugh at most appropriate things, but laughing out loud while reading is less common. I read this to see what the research looks like around laughter and hoped for some laughs and found both. Things just kind of suck right now in many directions, so we all need to take a lesson from here. And I think the art of good conversation is being lost, so this helps us remember.
What matters most, then, is not how much we give or take, but whether we offer and accept affordances. Takers can present big, graspable doorknobs (“I get kinda creeped out when couples treat their dogs like babies”) or not (“Let me tell you about the plot of the movie Must Love Dogs…”). Good taking makes the other side want to take too (“I know! My friends asked me to be the godparent to their schnauzer, it’s so crazy.” “What?? Was there a ceremony?”).
Similarly, some questions have doorknobs (“Why do you think you and your brother turned out so different?”) and some don’t (“How many of your grandparents are still living?”). But even affordance-less giving can be met with affordance-ful taking. (“I have one grandma still alive, and I think a lot about all this knowledge she has—how to raise a family, how to cope with tragedy, how to make chocolate zucchini bread—and how I feel anxious about learning from her while I still can.”)
Founded in 1988 in New York City but now an international organization,[5] the Dull Men’s Club bills itself as “a place to slow down, enjoy simple, everyday things, escape the troubles of life today. We do more than watch paint dry.” I love that they feel the need to explain that they do more than just watch paint dry. I also love that their motto implicitly asserts that they do, at least occasionally, watch paint dry.
The artist Wendy MacNaughton talks about “putting on your art eyes” in her ongoing project DrawTogether, which has provided imaginative creativity exercises to tens of thousands of adults and free social-emotional-learning and art curriculums to nearly 300,000 learners worldwide.[18] She made up the phrase “putting on your art eyes,” she told me, “to teach kids (and grown-ups) how to look at the world in a noticing kind of way. In a more formal setting I’d call it ‘active looking.’ ”
Funny writing, which can be hard to do! I am the type of person who finds most people and their humor really funny, can laugh at most appropriate things, but laughing out loud while reading is less common. I read this to see what the research looks like around laughter and hoped for some laughs and found both. Things just kind of suck right now in many directions, so we all need to take a lesson from here. And I think the art of good conversation is being lost, so this helps us remember.
What matters most, then, is not how much we give or take, but whether we offer and accept affordances. Takers can present big, graspable doorknobs (“I get kinda creeped out when couples treat their dogs like babies”) or not (“Let me tell you about the plot of the movie Must Love Dogs…”). Good taking makes the other side want to take too (“I know! My friends asked me to be the godparent to their schnauzer, it’s so crazy.” “What?? Was there a ceremony?”).
Similarly, some questions have doorknobs (“Why do you think you and your brother turned out so different?”) and some don’t (“How many of your grandparents are still living?”). But even affordance-less giving can be met with affordance-ful taking. (“I have one grandma still alive, and I think a lot about all this knowledge she has—how to raise a family, how to cope with tragedy, how to make chocolate zucchini bread—and how I feel anxious about learning from her while I still can.”)
Founded in 1988 in New York City but now an international organization,[5] the Dull Men’s Club bills itself as “a place to slow down, enjoy simple, everyday things, escape the troubles of life today. We do more than watch paint dry.” I love that they feel the need to explain that they do more than just watch paint dry. I also love that their motto implicitly asserts that they do, at least occasionally, watch paint dry.
The artist Wendy MacNaughton talks about “putting on your art eyes” in her ongoing project DrawTogether, which has provided imaginative creativity exercises to tens of thousands of adults and free social-emotional-learning and art curriculums to nearly 300,000 learners worldwide.[18] She made up the phrase “putting on your art eyes,” she told me, “to teach kids (and grown-ups) how to look at the world in a noticing kind of way. In a more formal setting I’d call it ‘active looking.’ ”
January 15, 2026
Full disclosure, I won this book from a Publisher giveaway and received a Bound Gallery copy. When it arrived in the mail, you would have thought I won the lottery!
I have never heard or Chris Duffy nor listened to any podcasts featuring him — but I might give one a try! That being said, this book was a miss for me. It started out great… I loved the story about Gary, his student who wrote the school lunch reviews - and really want to know where Gary is today. Does he write for a newspaper? Is he a comedian? Has laughter made his life better?
Anyways, I made it through the second pillar and then dropped off. I forced myself to read, then skimmed, then skipped a couple chapters and I was at the end.
This book is GREAT for someone who wants to be a comedian but doesn’t know where to start, or someone who doesn’t quite get humor and wants to understand the science behind it. There was a ton of research that went into this and I applaud the author for putting in the work — it just wasn’t a book for me. (And I LOVE SELF HELP BOOKS) but then again, I’m told by strangers, friends and especially my husband (at least 20 times an hour…jk more like 5 — but who is counting) that I’m hilarious. And honestly, it somehow comes naturally to me. If I’ve had made one person smile each day, then I have fulfilled my purpose.
So while I did not learn much that was new to me, I do appreciate the work that went into this book to educate others and truly believe that humor and laughter will help you to be more “present, creative, connected and happy”.
I have never heard or Chris Duffy nor listened to any podcasts featuring him — but I might give one a try! That being said, this book was a miss for me. It started out great… I loved the story about Gary, his student who wrote the school lunch reviews - and really want to know where Gary is today. Does he write for a newspaper? Is he a comedian? Has laughter made his life better?
Anyways, I made it through the second pillar and then dropped off. I forced myself to read, then skimmed, then skipped a couple chapters and I was at the end.
This book is GREAT for someone who wants to be a comedian but doesn’t know where to start, or someone who doesn’t quite get humor and wants to understand the science behind it. There was a ton of research that went into this and I applaud the author for putting in the work — it just wasn’t a book for me. (And I LOVE SELF HELP BOOKS) but then again, I’m told by strangers, friends and especially my husband (at least 20 times an hour…jk more like 5 — but who is counting) that I’m hilarious. And honestly, it somehow comes naturally to me. If I’ve had made one person smile each day, then I have fulfilled my purpose.
So while I did not learn much that was new to me, I do appreciate the work that went into this book to educate others and truly believe that humor and laughter will help you to be more “present, creative, connected and happy”.
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