Adriana E. Ramírez: Send in the clowns

My children are going through a "Mary Poppins" phase — the 1964 version starring Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke. Especially during these rainy days, we've found ourselves inside on weekend afternoons, singing along to the musical's Sherman Brothers-penned classics.

I've been indulging my kids, as our oldest dog just passed away, and the movie serves as a perfectly wholesome distraction. This is how I found myself on a recent afternoon, setting down the newspaper and tablet, so I could belt out "I Love to Laugh" with them, one of the least popular songs from "Mary Poppins," but one that now feels more poignant than ever.

"The more I laugh, the more I fill with glee," beloved character actor Ed Wynn sings while floating in the air in a fit of giggle-induced levitation. "And the more the glee, the more I'm a merrier me."

To laugh, his number argues, is to be filled with lightness, so much so that we become unbound by the rules of physics — to laugh is to transcend gravity, to go beyond the highest high, even as the world tries to tether us to the ground.

Laughter has always been political. From the old Margaret Atwood refrain ("men are afraid that women will laugh at them") to the fact that some of the best insight on current events comes from comedians, humor and politics have always been awkward bedfellows. And in this political moment, as many feel the doom and gloom (or smug elation) of the election results, laughter has never felt more important.

Some laugh too fast

In "Mary Poppins," the light and unencumbered Uncle Albert serves as a foil to the very serious banker, Mr. Dawes, Sr. There is a hum of political commentary occurring in the musical, one that urges parents to be present in their children's lives, to let go of their politics and ambitions in the name of family.

It's telling that when the elder Mr. Dawes finally laughs, he too begins to float. The bank, it turns out, was only keeping him down.

In this time of uncertainty, it's important to find our sense of humor. But I don't think it will be too difficult to find fodder. The president-elect has already given the whole world much to laugh about — and he's not even president yet.

"Anti-swamp" candidate immediately appointing deeply swamp-tastic politicos as members of his cabinet? Amazingly uproarious. Two people to head the newly created Department of Government Efficiency (never mind the pre-existing Office of Management and Budget)? Hilariously inefficient.

Man investigated for sexual relationship with a minor now in charge of the Department of Justice? Jaw-droppingly incongruous.

You gotta laugh, right?

They twitter like birds

Buckle in, because the next four years are going to be ripe for parody. The reign of dramatic irony has already begun.

Infowars pundit Alex Jones lost a $1.4 billion defamation suit two years ago against the families of the victims of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary, after he incorrectly claimed that the massacre of young children was fake, staged by advocates to motivate stricter gun laws.

After Jones declared bankruptcy, in September, a Texas judge ruled that assets owned by Jones' companies could be auctioned off to the highest bidder to cover his legal obligations. And on Thursday it was announced that in the case of Infowars, the highest bidder was The Onion, a satirical online newspaper unafraid to punch hard.

"We thought this would be a hilarious joke," Ben Collins, CEO of The Onion's parent company, told the New York Times. "This is going to be our answer to this no-guardrails world where there are no gatekeepers and everything's kind of insane."

The Onion plans to relaunch their version of Infowars soon, and the families of Sandy Hook victims are on board.

"They're all human beings with senses of humor who want fun things to happen and want good things to take place in their lives," Collins said. "They want to be part of something good and positive too."

Squeak as the squeakelers do

There is goodness to be had from laughter. And the cleverest humor can reveal bigger, and more uncomfortable, truths. Consider how Hannibal Buress' standup helped the effort to hold Bill Cosby accountable for sexual assault. Or the theory that Trump decided to run for president after being mocked by Obama at a dinner. Jokes can change history.

When I speak to my Trump-supporting friends, they often cite the president-elect's sense of humor as part of his appeal. "He's funny," my friend Alex wrote on social media. "And let's be honest, Dems have no sense of humor."

It's not that the left isn't funny, but its best comics require audiences to overcome subscriptions and paywalls, vocabulary lessons and literary references. Maybe jokes, and the news, should be more accessible, less condescending. Still, it's clear who is losing the humor wars. And there have been consequences that will affect us all.

"There's nothing like a good joke," says Bert in "Mary Poppins." "And that was nothing like a good joke," Uncle Albert quickly replies.

We could all use a hearty chuckle right now. Or as Abe Lincoln put it: "I laugh because I must not cry, that is all, that is all."

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