The psychology behind it.

     Had an article published once in a magazine called--you guessed it--Laughing in All the Wrong Places. It was basically an accounting of a group of writers sitting at a table in a restaurant joking about their failed book signings, their pitiful royalty checks. One writer boasted that if he could get his checks up to, "a buck ninety-five," he'd put a down payment on that yacht he always wanted. A patron who was listening in asked why they were laughing in all the wrong places? The answer: when they laughed nothing seemed so bad.
     I think this applies to all occupations. Worked in a hospital one time where the jokes flew like crazy. One poor devil had his leg removed due to a devastating infection. Unfortunately he died hours later. His wife wanted the leg buried with him. When his body was delivered to the funeral home, it was short one leg. The leg had been placed on the hospital bed next to his, wrapped in sheets. The aide who picked up sheets and what not to be washed, accidentally picked up the sheet wrapped leg and stuck it in the washing machine. When she heard thumping inside of the machine, opened the top and discovered the leg, she nearly fainted. The joke wasn't about this poor devil or his leg because we were all upset over his death. But we were surrounded by misery. In order not to take it home or live with one crushing blow after another, we made jokes. It saves the old sanity.
     And I guess it's the same with every occupation where one tragedy after another strikes. So when you hear people Laughing in All the Wrong Places, they're not making fun, they're just trying to survive.