Sister Sonia Sanchez, Philadelphia’s Poet Laureate, told me once that a healer made her watch funny movies. Laughter puts us right.


This fall when I seized up like an old Plymouth, traditional and integrative medicine helped my sickness.  But I wasn’t whole, and I sure wasn’t laughing.


Enter Kevin Hart.  My friend Tina told me that he was crazy funny, so I watched.  The “Teacher” sketch, aka “Permission to Cuss,” made me fall out the chair.  Just typing the words makes me open another browser and watch while I write. Then I can’t write anymore, because I’m laughing.


Here he goes, setting it up: the teacher “stapled a note to my chest” telling his mother that if she paid more attention to him, he wouldn’t need to come to school and act like a fool.


Oh, my God.  No she did-n’t.  (You have to holler back at the TV! Can’t help it…)


His mother reads the note.  “You tell your teacher…” And then she gives him “permission to cuss.”


The next day, he tells the kids on the bus and his pals walking into class to watch, cause “it’s about to go down…”


Nope, I am not providing a link so that your middle schooler can click on “Permission to Cuss.” Nor to the bit about the vengeful ostrich running alongside his car, or to his father’s showing up to a parent-teacher conference high, wearing sweatpants with no drawers.


Nope.  What you get here are breathtaking accounts of real people running for freedom in the 1850s, available free because Kevin Hart has sponsored this special Black History Month promo.


They’re not funny, but if you want to have fun with them, put a packing box in the middle of the floor, pretend to be mailing yourself north, get in—and give your kids some packing tape!


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