On Sarcasm

Nothing is more discouraging than unappreciated sarcasm.
                  - Unknown

    There is a sarcasm painful to hear, born of a hardness, an unfeeling cynical attitude toward all things life. There is a cutting sarcasm, born of pride and aimed at an enemy for his humiliation, that tears at all sensitive listeners' hearts and does little good. Then there is a worthy sarcasm born of wisdom, a wit that chooses sometimes to respond to a bitter or ridiculous truth of life by laughing soberly, because in this sort of laughter is a level of sad expression not found in tears. There is also a gentle sarcasm, born of sensitivity and aimed at a friend, that softens the harshness of a frustration or disagreement while still keeping it good-natured and bluntly honest. And then there is the sarcasm that is there simply for when to cry or protest would be an overreaction, and laughing it off with good will is the best way to handle the situation.
    Perhaps these sarcasms, and their very distinct differences, and levels of appropriateness, might be explainable to my Southern friends. But what of sarcasm as a love-language? Ah, there my powers of explanation fail me utterly. How to explain, to someone who does not already understand, the absolute mutual delight of a battle of wittiest-comeback with a best friend, the more insulting the better? How to make plain the feeling you get from a good-humored mockery of a foolish slip of the tongue or an embarrassing moment, like a gentle punch in the shoulder that from a stranger would be offensive, but from a brother is a sign of affection? What comparison might I find that would accurately portray this feeling? I fail to think of one, and how sad that I cannot share this experience with certain of the friends I love best.
    What can I say. I miss the North right now. I find sarcasm springing forth, and not a soul to enjoy it with. And so it sits on my tongue, unspoken. What a tragedy, a complete and utter and deep loss, that beautiful sarcasms should remain unspoken once thought. And they must be spoken-- in the moment in context, or it's not the same. Ah well. 'Tis for the greater good of harmony and understanding, that one must refrain from saying that unnecessary thing which might offend.

Oh dear, I am talking like such a martyr! It's not so dramatic as all that. I shall simply avoid Facebook for a while, until this phase passes. Maybe read more of Calvin.