> Having schizophrenia means you are never alone. The best outdoor ranters
> are those afflicted with Coprolalia. They can be very entertaining in
> the right situation, for example at a solemn funeral.
I had to google that word, Coprolalia. I had a feeling it was that syndrome where people uncontrollably cry one minute and laugh the next. Coprolalia reminds me of Tourettes. I feel sorry for those people - sometimes. I've known a few. I see them as potential victims of bullies posing as guardian angels. Like, "Hey, watch your language asshole, can't you see there are ladies around", as an excuse to start something physical.
I was 13 when I went to my grandmother's funeral. At the time I considered her my mother. I did not want to go. It was my first time. Seeing the corpse was not pleasant, being told to get in line to kiss it was even worse. I felt bad about her dying. I was sitting with a male cousin about my age when from the back of the room came a sudden shrieking that began with one woman wailing, then two, then more until the entire room was overtaken by shrieks of grief. It was an Arab thing, or just an old world thing that lots of people probably do. But to me, even though I felt sad, it was hilarious. I started to laugh. My cousin was laughing to. We were having trouble holding it in. I got up and so did he. As we walked to the exit doors with our hands over our laughing faces, our shoulders were shaking from laughs the same as they do from sobs, so from behind or the side or even head-on with our hands over our faces I'm sure from the shake of our shoulders most thought we were sobbing, or so I was inclined to believe. Most in attendance were adults. Looking back, maybe they knew we were laughing because they too at some early point of their life had done the same thing. Funny how the shoulders shake the same via sob or laugh.
Another time I was with a friend walking past a funeral home. We were both obsessed with death and its humor at that point of our lives. We didn't even know who had died, we went in. We saw a bunch of people sobbing and we started to laugh. But not out loud. We had to hold it in till we couldn't take it anymore. Then on our way out, once again using the hands over the face, shaking shoulders sob routine, we bumped into a kid we knew who was related to whoever was in the casket. We simply nodded and moved on. I never did it again.