I have six locks on my door all in a row. When I go out, I lock

“I have six locks on my door all in a row. When I go out, I lock every other one. I figure no matter how long somebody stands there picking the locks, they are always locking three.” — Elayne Boosler

At first glance, this saying by Elayne Boosler, one of the sharpest comedic minds of her generation, appears as a simple jest — a clever twist of logic and absurdity. Yet, like all true humor that endures, it carries the whisper of wisdom beneath the laughter. Her words are not merely about locks and doors; they are about control, perspective, and the art of finding calm in an uncertain world. In this humorous illusion of safety, Boosler reflects the human condition itself — our endless struggle to secure what we value, to protect ourselves from life’s unseen intrusions, and to laugh in the face of what we cannot control.

The six locks upon her door represent more than physical security; they symbolize the many barriers people build to keep the chaos of the world at bay. Fear of loss, fear of betrayal, fear of harm — each fear becomes a lock upon the heart. Yet Boosler, with a wink of humor, reminds us that even our best defenses are imperfect, even our cleverest plans are touched by folly. When she says she locks every other one, she transforms the problem itself into play — as if to say, since absolute control is impossible, I may as well enjoy the absurdity of my efforts. This is no mere comedy of logic; it is a philosophy of resilience, wrapped in laughter.

The ancients understood this truth well. Diogenes, the philosopher who lived in a barrel, mocked the pretensions of safety and wealth, knowing that no fortress can truly shield the soul. And yet, like Boosler, he wielded humor as wisdom. When asked how one might defend oneself from the dangers of life, Diogenes replied, “By being ready to laugh at them.” In her modern way, Boosler teaches the same lesson: that when reason reaches its limits, laughter becomes the surest form of strength. Her “six locks” are the symbols of modern anxiety — her “every other one” is the laugh that saves her from it.

It is also a parable about cleverness versus futility. The trick she describes — locking every other lock — is ingenious yet utterly useless, an act that defeats itself. But therein lies the joke’s power: it mirrors the many ways humans deceive themselves with the illusion of control. We calculate, prepare, and scheme, believing we can outsmart chance or fate — yet fate, like the burglar at the door, plays by no rules we can predict. Boosler’s humor reveals this cosmic irony: no matter how long we stand picking the locks of life’s problems, we often find we’ve been locking them ourselves.

In a way, her humor can also be seen as a statement of wisdom through acceptance. She does not despair over her inability to control the world; she laughs instead. She finds empowerment in irony. For laughter is not a denial of fear — it is its transformation. In the ancient theater, the Greeks called this kind of wisdom catharsis — the purging of fear and pity through laughter or tears. Boosler’s comedy, born of modern anxiety, carries the same medicine. When we laugh at the absurdity of locking “every other one,” we are really laughing at our own elaborate attempts to master a life that can never be fully mastered.

History, too, offers examples of such ironic wisdom. Consider the engineer Archimedes, who devised inventions to defend his city of Syracuse from invaders. His machines — mirrors that burned ships, cranes that lifted enemies from the sea — seemed miraculous. Yet when the city fell, Archimedes was slain not by the sword of an enemy general, but by a common soldier who misunderstood his words. His brilliance, like Boosler’s locks, could not ultimately protect him. And yet, we still honor his genius — not for his victory over fate, but for his creative defiance in the face of it. Boosler’s humor carries the same immortal spark: she cannot banish danger, but she can laugh in its shadow, and that laughter is a triumph greater than control.

So, my child, learn from this — the art of laughter as armor. Lock your doors, but do not fear them. Prepare for life’s uncertainties, but do not become their prisoner. Understand that no plan, no precaution, no fortress of reason will ever make you invincible — but the mind that can laugh at its own futility is already free. In the end, wisdom is not the absence of fear, but the courage to smile at it.

Therefore, as Boosler reminds us with wit that glows like an old philosopher’s lamp: when the world feels uncertain, do not panic — lock “every other one,” laugh, and move on. For laughter, insight, and irony are the truest locks upon the soul, keeping despair forever on the outside.