Word: laughingly
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...irrational thought that John’s burnt shoulder might kill him confirmed that I loved him—the fear of losing him terrified me. Although we couldn’t play games or carry on conversations, we could make each other laugh. All I had to do was roll a blue rubber ball towards his contorted feet. All he had to do was poke me with his misshapen fingers...
...when friends acted “retarded” through gesticulation. They would bend their wrists, slap them against their chests, lower one half of their bottom lip and make noises that mimicked the speech of the mentally handicapped. The imitations were all too real. People would laugh, but all that I could think about were the days when John was still my family secret. It made me sad to think my brother really was a “retard...
It’s true that John isn’t offended by any of this. You could walk up to him, call him a “retard” and he would probably just laugh and poke you with his fingers. But I also know that he can’t defend himself, only adding insult to injury. He’ll never be able to thank my mom for her devotion or prove to her that her time was not spent in vain. He’ll never be able to show people he is so much...
...Workers pulling grim double shifts at ground zero get a second wind when he visits. At opening night at the Metropolitan Opera, he gets an ovation Pavarotti would envy. He brings David Letterman to tears and a Saturday Night Live audience to life, telling people it's O.K. to laugh again...
...this is fine, since none of Willis’s fans pretend to enjoy his act on a musical level. Rather, they enjoy the comic relief involved in the almost vaudevillian (and certainly pathetic) spectacle of Willis’ psychopathology. They come to laugh at the leper’s festering lesions in a shameless display of Schadenfreude. This in itself is a disease inherent in American culture: We enjoy seeing others flounder and make fools of themselves...