I would say that manners are important, but that is a gross understatement for some while simultaneously being a ridiculous overstatement for others.
There are some humorists whose storytelling ability is astounding. Their command of language and tireless capacity for rendering themselves intelligible, compelling, and delightfully entertaining is unmatched.
Karl Marx thought that to pun was a sure sign of "the intellectual lumpen proletariat."
Paradise was Lost, not found. The self-appointed arbiters of taste often consider laughing to be less dignified, much like those in the eighteenth-century self-appointed themselves as equal arbiters of taste and refinement did before them.
Good humor is hilariously funny. It makes you laugh from the inside out. I lived in the serious world, it's not so great. The aristocracy offers with it a tradition that rises above all social ills; it is as close to Utopia as Sir Thomas More could have meticulously described. It is thought-provoking, all-encompassing, and deeply alluring.
Yet, humor is contemporary, fresh, and select in its brilliance. It is soft, human, and assembled with the core of good intention, where the beauty of the ideal is neither country, nor civilized notion, it is unicity acknowledged and innocently accepted. It is genuine affection for life in a world obsessed with money, power, conquest, and sanctimonious bullshit.
Every spot where the old world has not yet died out, places that are still overrun with oppression, are transparent against humor's denouement. We're not fugitives in our own land, long expelled from Eden as a manner of learned influence. No one is keeping us off the grass. The extreme fiction of life is that living is indeed subjective, which means we choose, perhaps not our experience, but our experience of experience. Humor dissolves the self and the part of us that thinks finally interacts without impediment. This interaction is where kindness can be found.
Humor was Shakespeare's masterpiece of devices that could equally delight and entertain us in our follies over nothing. We're still slipping on the proverbial banana peel, but we laugh every time. Therefore humor is the art of knowing this, a glorious sublimity that praises us despite our many failings. Humor transcends and the monarch of wit himself has us in stitches, thinking and thanking in full recognition of our selves in slips and slides of others.
We invent what we ruminate. Abandoning self-hearing is funny. It results in toxic levels of irony at its height and tragedy at its depth. Humor is not only a valid enterprise held within the origin of evolvement, it is a guide through the labyrinth of obscene intellect to a place where traces of angelic ideology dwells undaunted and unfallen.