Why Me Laugh?

I really like writing humor, but my other real joy in life is pointless navel gazing, i.e., analyzing a subject beyond any actual utility. I thought maybe I’d indulge myself and thus write a serious post, but I’ll meet you half way and write a serious post on the subject of humor.
For me, writing humor is mainly a gut thing. I have very few conscious heuristics I use; most of it just comes from some unknown muse. Analyzing humor most likely won’t actually help one write better humor, but only seems to work as a post-mortem, explaining why something was funny. Still, I find it interesting to do. I plan on later discussing different types of humor and liberal versus conservative humor, but today I’m going to start with why people laugh in the first place.
The best theory I’ve seen on the evolutionary purpose of humor was from Henri Bergson. Basically, he argues that humor is a social force meant to discourage behavior unwanted by the group. This makes a lot of logical sense when you consider the difference in feeling between being laughed with and laughed at; it’s very pleasant to be a part of a group laughing, and very unpleasant to be the subject of ridicule. And, if one is laughed at, he or she is likely to want to avoid doing again whatever caused the laughter (or vow to make everyone regret the day they laughed at him, if the person is a mad scientist). Thus, before advanced language was developed, laughter allowed the popular caveman to communicate to the loser caveman that a buffalo should not be painted pink. Keeping with humor expressing a social order, if you thoroughly detest someone, he or she can’t make you laugh. I don’t care how many good light bulb jokes Hitler might have; he’d be wasting his material on me.
Also, a social component to humor is quite apparent. People usually don’t laugh at their own thoughts, and, though someone may come up with a humorous statement, he or she won’t laugh until it is expressed to the group. I know that when writing my own material, though I may gauge that something I came up with is funny, it never causes me to laugh out loud (question for later: then how do I guess that something I write is funny?). Also, humor is certainly amplified in groups, as I know at least I laugh more at a Simpson episode when watching it with other people than watching it alone. Actually, enjoying humor by oneself can be annoying, because if you see something funny, there is a strong desire to share it (hence all those joke forwardings).
Finally, in further evidence that the evolutionary purpose of humor is to moderate human behavior, things can only be funny if it has some relation to people. Rocks are not funny. A leaf being blown by the wind is not funny. Animals are only funny in so much as their behavior reminds us of human behavior. Thus, arguably, the funniest animal is the monkey (most human like) and the least funny is the sponge (that is, before the advent of SpongeBob SquarePants).
Though the original evolutionary purpose of humor was to cause people to conform to the group, it certainly is used for many other purposes in modern life. Still, understanding humor’s original purpose is a good starting point in analyzing it in toto. Still, it raises some questions.
Questions:
If humor causes people to conform to the group, does that make it fascist in nature? Then why aren’t fascists known for their humor?
If humor is such a strong social force, why aren’t comedians the most well respected people? Why instead do many comedians come from more outcast groups, such as Canadians?
Though, by this theory, a monkey may be funny, it also means that a monkey who is stunned falling from a tree and then ends up in a coma (i.e., more sponge-like) would not be very funny. Yet, I find the idea of a monkey in a little monkey bed hooked up to little monkey life support systems kinda funny; why is that? I hate monkeys.
Anyway, discuss amongst yourselves. If I feel like it, maybe I’ll continue this next week.