Sure, no problems, whatever you want

We don't mean what we say, nor do we say what we mean.

That is a basic feature of communication that is usually unnoticed. It is related to the fact that there is no unique definition of the concepts we use in language, and to the way we communicate on many layers all at once. Nothing we say simply conveys a message relating to the context of the sentence we speak, but it always includes something of our mental condition at the moment in which it is uttered, the relation to the listener and other features of the context.
For instance, say you wish to borrow a book of mine. Albeit my lack of attachment to private property, it is possible that you know that regarding my books I display all those primordial tendencies that possession can arouse. Say the conversation goes like this:

"Can you borrow your copy of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?"
"Sure, just make sure you bring it back."
"Oh yeah, no problem. Of course I will bring it back."
"Great, then you can have it."
"Thanks. (pause) You're sure it's alright?"
"Yeah, sure. (pause) Just make sure you bring it back."

I take it that you agree that this conversation seems reasonable, though if we only said what we mean and meant what we say, it would probably take the following form:

"Can I borrow your copy of HHGTTG?"
"Yes, provided you give it back."
End of conversation.

The second conversation covers just the same amount of 'meaning', conceived in a narrow sense of references, as the first one. However, the second conversation misses the richness of communication encapsulated in the seemingly redundant repetition of the first, likely conversation. In addition to asking the book from me, you want to know my attitude towards the book or books generally, as to make sure that I mean what I say when I say you can have it. You would be happiest if I just replied enthusiastically "Sure! You can have it for as long as you want!", which would seem strange despite the joy I take in the spreading of a good piece of writing. I, on the other hand, would like to convey the message that I am happy to lend the book provided you give it back. I don't want to make a big deal out of it, but I do want to make sure that you know that even though I have not opened this book for years I would really be upset if you failed to give it back and it would be missing from my library.
Making sure we understand each other is an important feature of communication.

Ironically, it usually entails repeating points we have already made rather than making new ones.

Why Folly?

I have always been attracted to Folly, in one way or another. The praise of something as foolish as Folly arouses my long-nurtured affection for contradictions, which I take to indicate truth. I take Folly very seriously - I intend to pursue it in the most rigorous manner and not only in order to intensify the paradox. I have always thought that there is nothing funny about Folly unless it is seriously premeditated. The most shallow and superficial jokes are funniest when they conducted in carefully picked conditions - specific timing, a certain atmosphere and so forth. One may say, that such an endeavour renounces the shallowness of the joke from which we began. But if it was not the for the initial shallowness, it wouldn't have been possible to construct the complex sophistication. Something of the primordial foolishness indeed remains, traces of instinctive Folly in the work of art of multi-layered humour.

It was said on W.S Gilbert that his foe was folly, but he purposed a steady defence of Folly when he observed that it carries a grain of truth and wisdom in it. Moreover, Folly may serve to facilitate the understanding of such truths, especially those difficult to accept. But Gilbert's words suggest another, deeper message - that those truths that Folly conveys cannot be adequately covered by conventional wisdom. The Jester's Folly is subject to no academic rule and it possesses a potential force that can wither the successful upstart. Are there such truths, only available to Folly? I do not know for certain, but I do think that by hiding some truths, Folly may serve to expose them. Indeed, even when it isn't absolutely necessary to wrap truths in Folly, it may still be very helpful or in the very least - funny. In any rate, I intend to explore this path further - seriously pursuing Folly and examining serious matters in a silly manner. Where this will bring me, I do not know, but I have a feeling I will end up where I need to be.

When they’re offered to the world in merry guise,

Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will –

For he who’d make his fellow-creatures wise

Should always gild the philosophic pill!

(Yeoman of the Guard, Act I)