She was funny, witty, and wise, and she was always honest. She was a keen observer of human foibles, her own as well as those of others. She had the courage to bare her own warts and make them funny. By making us laugh, she helped us to accept the things we most worry about but rarely discuss.
She made us laugh at the many small challenges—indignities, really—of aging. And so she wrote I Remember Nothing. But was she laughing with us?
This may be the answer (From Salon, Nov. 7, 2010 via ABC News):
I’m already nervous about using the word ‘anger,’ because I’m not a particularly angry person, but I do think that underneath pieces like ‘I Feel Bad About My Neck’ is some kind of actual anger about the aging process. Which then turns into a bunch of jokes.