The job of laughter.

• Author: Clinton, Kate
• Position: Unplugged - On laughter yoga - Column

In this jobless recovery, I've been very grateful that I have a job. You could say I got pretty smug about it. I assured myself that people always need to laugh, especially during hard times. But then like workers everywhere, I started hearing rumblings.

I really started to worry on a visit to New Delhi. At 5 a.m. in the Lodhi Gardens, I had seen Indians of all ages--gu'mint men with their entourages and women in their workout saris and Adidas--sweating, whipping their arms around, and forcing rhythmic ha ha ha breaths out into the already humid morning air. By then, I knew what I was witnessing. Yet despite relentless evidence of global economic connectedness, I hoped it would not migrate to America.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

When I began reading articles about an Indian doctor, Madan Kataria, known as the Guru of Giggling, I knew my worst fear, worse than a Palin Presidency, had come true. Like tantric studies, tamarind chutney, and Bollywood movies, Laughing Yoga had jumped the oceans. Tata cars are next.

As publisher of a lay reader's digest of medical advice, Kataria wrote an article called "Laughter--the Best Medicine." In it, he discussed the health benefits of laughing and postulated that the body can't tell the difference between voluntary or involuntary laughter. He then tested his hypothesis by asking random passersby if they wanted to laugh with him. With nary a punch line to provoke it, they laughed together and claimed to feel better. Thus did Dr. Kataria become like AA's Dr. Bob and found a burgeoning movement of non-centralized laughter clubs.

For years I have heard "Comedy Clubs" as a vaguely Neanderthal statement of fact, especially after feeling bludgeoned by a lineup of misogynist, racist, gross routines. Laughter clubs sounds a bit kinder. But still. Who needs a punch line worker to produce the joke, burnish the bad pun, and...