portal ovenbird On the internet, scrolling Instagram, against my better judgement, I came across a video depicting a Chinese designed robot programmed to recreate Michael Jackson’s iconic moonwalk dance routine. The humanoid hunk of metal put in a valiant effort but was foiled by two stairs, which it tripped up in cartoonish fashion, sprawling onto the floor, never to move again. The robot was dragged off by a human handler while Billie Jean continued to play in the background. There was something about the uncanny comedy of it all that slid right down my throat and made me laugh so hard I was gasping. And as tears slid down my face there was a strange moment when my laughter turned to crying, and suddenly my chest was spasming with sobs, and grief was spilling from my mouth, and I couldn’t tell, anymore, whether I was gripped by hilarity or despair. Laughter is a peculiar portal that can transport you from mirth to anguish in a nanosecond. When the tears started they found so many reasons to keep flowing. Every abscess of hurt split open, emptied, leaving me wounded and drained and, inexplicably, smirking, as if something funny was still hanging out on the fringes of it all. 260523 what's it to you? who go blather from