Funny is funny. I dare anyone to look at Tim Conway and Harvey

In the luminous words of Carol Burnett, “Funny is funny. I dare anyone to look at Tim Conway and Harvey Korman doing the dentist sketch, which is more than 40 years old, and not scream with laughter,” there rings the eternal truth of art that transcends time. Her voice, warm and wise, speaks not merely of comedy, but of the enduring power of joy — the kind that pierces generations, culture, and circumstance. For in laughter, Burnett tells us, lies something divine — something unbound by the years, untouched by fashion or fame. Funny is funny, she declares, and in those simple words resides the soul of all timeless creation.

To understand this, one must know the stage she speaks of — The Carol Burnett Show, that golden temple of laughter from a bygone age, where humor flowed not from cruelty, but from wit, heart, and humanity. The dentist sketch, performed by Tim Conway and Harvey Korman, is a legend among legends — a moment where improvisation met genius. Conway, as a hapless dentist who accidentally numbs his own hand, and Korman, as the patient barely containing his laughter, created something eternal. There were no grand effects, no clever scripts written by machines — only two human beings, alive in the present, surrendering to the absurd beauty of the moment.

And so Burnett’s quote becomes a declaration of artistic truth: that true humor — like true love, or true courage — never grows old. The world may change its fashions and forget its heroes, but it cannot forget what makes the heart burst into laughter. For laughter is the oldest language of the soul. It belongs not to an era, but to eternity. The ancients knew this, though they spoke of it in myth. When the Greek god Hephaestus, lame and ridiculed, stumbled into the feast of Olympus, the gods erupted in laughter so pure that even their quarrels ceased. In that laughter, harmony was restored. So too does Burnett remind us that laughter, real laughter, unites the living across centuries.

There is wisdom hidden in her simplicity. Funny is funny — meaning that truth does not expire, nor does sincerity fade. What makes us laugh sincerely is not cleverness alone, but recognition: we see ourselves reflected in the foolish dentist, the exasperated patient, the flawed and fumbling humanity of it all. Time cannot age this mirror, for it reflects what is eternal in us — our vulnerability, our surprise, our shared imperfection. The power of humor is that it binds even the broken, teaching us to forgive ourselves through the joy of our own ridiculousness.

Consider also Charlie Chaplin, whose silent tramp, bowing with a broken shoe and a brave smile, still moves hearts a century later. No words, no sound — yet the laughter he awakens is the same laughter Burnett celebrates. It is laughter that heals, that liberates. When Chaplin was exiled from his homeland, accused and scorned, his art remained his weapon of mercy. He once said, “To truly laugh, you must take your pain and play with it.” The laughter of the dentist sketch, like Chaplin’s art, does exactly that — it turns blunders into blessings, accidents into joy.

Burnett’s reverence for Conway and Korman is thus not nostalgia, but faith — faith in the timeless pulse of laughter that outlives even those who create it. “Funny is funny” is not a defense of the past; it is a celebration of the eternal present. When we laugh at something decades old, we are touching the same thread that connected those who first laughed — across time, we share one breath, one heartbeat of joy. It is proof that though technology may evolve, the human spirit remains unchanged in its longing to be light again.

So let this be the lesson: cherish what makes you laugh honestly. Do not seek humor that wounds or divides, but the kind that uplifts, the kind that reminds you that life — even in its chaos — is worth smiling at. Surround yourself, as Carol Burnett did, with those who create joy not for applause, but for love of laughter itself. Funny is funny, because truth never dies. And when the years grow heavy, and the world feels dim, return to that laughter — that pure, unpretending laughter — and you will find yourself renewed.

For laughter, as the ancients might have said, is the echo of the soul remembering its freedom. It is the music of the eternal — and in every era, it sounds the same.