Suicide jokes? Har har har! Uh, too soon?

Would-be comedian. Armchair yukster. You see this type everywhere. If he isn't stereotypical, and wearing a loud shirt and carrying a joy buzzer in his palm, he's much harder to avoid. He could be the co-worker who suddenly startles you with, "Watch out! Dog shit in front of you!" And when you stop, startled, he bawls with laughter and cries "Gotcha!" Or, he tells you in dead seriousness, "Obama was just shot in the head." And when you say "Oh no..." he glowers at you and says, "You fell for that? Don't you know what DAY it is?" Oh, April 1st. Fun-neeee?

Speaking of death, Len Belzer died a few days ago. He was known to a lot of people in the comedy world through his syndicated radio series. He interviewed comedians and broadcast the best comedy routines around. When his suicide death was announced in the papers, most of the headlines slanted it as: "Richard Belzer's brother dies." Either way, Len's suicide was quickly turned into a joke by every Internet Kenny Bania...all those guys who are convinced they could be making Dane Clark's money if...if they didn't have to be Dad's junior partner working at hedge funds or doing plumbing repair, or whatever they do.

The would-be comedian, whether annoying strangers on the street or posting to the Internet, is happy to adopt a murderously deadpan style. This was learned from such heroes as Jerry Lewis lecturing on what's funny, or Burt Reynolds doing Jonathan Winters while glaring at Carson. Or Russell Brand intimidating Letterman. The idea is to shake it up, and if nobody laughs, "shpritz" with a scornful, "You don't get it?" or, if it's the typically tasteless joke after a tragedy, a winking, "Too soon?"

I once asked Steve Allen if there were topics "of which no jest can be made." Poe seemed to think so. No "Red Death" jokes for Eddy! Steve replied, "No, there's nothing that you can't make a joke out of. It's just a case of whether you should."

Sick jokes can be therapeutic. The idea is to show the Grim Reaper that he's not intimidating whoever is still alive. But too often, sick jokes are spawned by obnoxious pretenders who think they're Howard Stern or Gilbert Gottfried or Trumph the Insult Comic Dog. The thrill of being the impudent class clown...is too hard to resist. Nevermind that Stern, Gilbert, Triumph (Rickles, Rivers, Maher, etc.) are professionals. The would-be comedian ignores the "don't try this at home" warning.

Instead he deadpans something nasty to an aghast co-worker...and seem to get the same satisfaction from his aggression as a rapist. It's not pleasure. It's dominating somebody else. As this social leper usually has people fleeing from the sight of him, he'll hurry to an Internet forum to be the first with a cringeworthy (not laugh-worthy) remark. He wants to hear: "I just threw up a little in my mouth!" or "ROFLAO," and if the clobbering quip only gets an insult, he's ready with the sarcastic reply of: "Too SOON?"

The death of a comedian, or somebody in the comedy business...seems to incite a slew of LAFF RIOT attempts at slaying the reader. Len Belzer...a suicide...throwing himself from his home on West 94th Street...why, that's a set-up too GOOD for some to resist: