It's Not Offensive if it's Funny
Topic: The craft of comedy

  There's a lot of debating among comedians about how offensive a person can/should be in an attempt to be funny. Comedy - or good comedy, anyway - has an inherently subversive nature, and you can usually get a laugh saying something that people think but are afraid to say, so there's a natural inclination for comedians to test the limits of good taste. Sometimes - and you'll see this at pretty much any open mic you go to - the comic crosses the line. But where is the line?

  Obviously, the answer to that question is different for everyone, though there's some general agreement on standards; I don't know anyone who argued that Michael Richard's flipout was not over the line. I think the thing that makes offense in comedy so difficult to pinpoint is this: the quality of the joke is one of the things that determines whether it's offensive or not.

  Take, for example, stuffwhitepeoplelike.com. It's exactly what it sounds like: a Web site (and now a book) chronicling all of the things that white people like. The first time I heard of this site, I was offended. I mean, the reason is pretty plain: it's nothing more than a list of racial stereotypes. Think of all the offensive things that would be included if stuffblackpeoplelike.com or stuffmexicanpeoplelike.com existed. If you're against stereotypes - and everyone claims to be - then you should probably be offended by this site.

  But I'm not. Because when I started reading it, well...it's really funny. I mean, really sharp, really funny. Not hacky - golf, for example, isn't listed as one of the things that white people like. Religions their parents don't belong to, however, is. The observations on this site are so unbelievably right on. Take, for example, this description of Sarah Silverman* (which is, itself, about saying offensive things in comedy...what a mindfuck):

 Her whole shtick is about saying really offensive things! But it’s ok because she’s pretty and has a small voice so it all sounds so cute! Get it? It’s not offensive, because when she says racist or sexist things she knows they are offensive. So it’s ok.

  Actually, that whole entry about comedians completely busts me, as do about 80 percent of the entries. 

  This site doesn't offend me because the jokes are so good. At the risk of overanalyzing things, I think this logic makes sense: the statements don't strike me as offensive because they are so clearly meant to be funny, not to be taken seriously. Take, for example, this paragraph, from thing #101- being offended:

  If you ever need to make a white person feel indebted to you, wait for them to mention a book, film, or television show that features a character who is the same race as you,  then say “the representation of <insert race> was offensive and if you can’t see that, well, you need to do some soul searching.”  After they return from their hastily booked trip to land of your ancestors, they will be desperate to make it up to you.  At this point, it is acceptable to ask them to help you paint your house.

  With that tone, the only people who could possibly take this site seriously are the same people who, when in a comedy audience, will boo at the mere mention of, say, the Vietnam War (regardless of what you actually end up saying about Vietnam War). 

  It's okay because it's funny. Or, at least, it's okay mostly because it's funny; it also helps that stereotypes about white people have not traditionally been a source of pain or subjegation in this country. And - and I'll keep this in mind next time the "when is it okay for comedians to use the n-word?" argument comes up - I found it interesting that I immediately wanted to know whether or not the author is white. It seems a lot more okay to me if the author is white - it would just affirm that this list is meant to be good-natured, not accusatory. But I'm not ready to say that obervations this sharp, comedy this good, should be ignored because of an over-developed sense of political correctness. What's offensive in regular life is not necessarily offensive in comedy.

*For the record - because I'm begging for an argument with my friends if I don't clarify this - I think Sarah Silverman is pretty funny, but also overrated.

Comedy Lies, Part 1: Stage Credits
Topic: The craft of comedy

There is a lot of lying in comedy. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing. Really, instead of saying "I just flew in from Cleveland..." would you really prefer that a comedian set up a joke "I just flew in from Springfield - Oregon, not Illinois - which, of course meant that I actually flew out of the Portland airport, and I had to switch planes in Cincinnati, so I guess you could say that I just flew in from Cincinnati, though the Cincinnati airport is actually across the river in Covington, Kentucky..."?

 

Some of these lies are innocuous (see above). Some lies are a bit more devious. In the interest of pulling back the curtain and giving non-comedians a better idea of what to believe and what not to believe, I've decided to write a series of blogs covering some common comedy lies. First up: stage credits.

 

Stage credits are frequently wall-to-wall bullshit. Not always, but frequently. Even more frequently, they're not complete bullshit, but are willful exaggerations of the truth. For example, immediately after my second college show, I began having myself introduced (and this is an extremely common, completely overworked intro) as having played "clubs and colleges up and down the East Coast." I had played University of Maryland Baltimore Campus and Georgetown University. Two points make a line. Anything more than one is plural. Both universities are within 50 miles of an ocean, which is to the East of a prominent land mass. Bam. Intro.

 

Here are some other common intros and what they actually mean:

 

"This comic is a really funny guy" = "This comic showed up late and didn't write an intro, so I'm giving him an intro that cannot technically be disproved." 

"This comic is a good friend of mine" = "I am aware of this person's existence, or at the very least I have a notecard with their name on it."

"This comic can be seen at venues throughout the area" = "This comic has access to e-mail and a basic knowledge of the English language, and is therefore capable of signing up for open mics."

"You may have seen this next comic on Youtube" = "This comic has a joke that's received 12 hits on Youtube, which means that the monkey with his finger up his ass is more than 14,000 times more entertaining than this next comic."

"This next comic comes to us all the way from New York City" = "Ooooooooohhhhh, pay attention, hillbillies! A real live New Yorker done took his auto five hours down the turnpike to show us small-town Washington folk how proper joke-i-fyin' is done! And y'all know he's good, cus he's down here doin' 7 minutes for free on a Tuesday night...just like that Seinfeld jew!"

"You may recognize this next comic from his online TV show..." = "There is no possible way you will recognize this next comic."

"You may have seen this next comic on Law and Order (New York)/CSI (LA)/The Wire (DC/Baltimore)" = "This next comic has played a dead body on Law and Order/CSI/The Wire."

"This comic has performed at venues all over the world" = "This comic drove up to Toronto this one time." 

"You may have seen this next comic on Last Comic Standing" = "This comic tried out for Last Comic Standing. His elbow was in the shot when that blonde lady who sounds like the female David Brent was interviewing the guy in the diaper." 

"This comic has opened for (fill in impressive yet semi-believable name)" = "A club did some open mic thing and (impressive yet semi-believable name) showed up at the end and did a guest set. Bryson told me that he also ended up banging that waitress with the red hair."

 

Other phrases/things to watch out for:

"Shared the stage with..." - If you're bullshit detector doesn't go off when you hear language this ambiguous, you need to get it replaced. 

"BET's Comic View..." - Comic View will apparently let any black comic in New York do a 20 second set if they hang around long enough.

"Performed at (some notable club)" - "Performed at" does not mean "was paid to perform at." Most clubs do some sort of open mic.

"Graduated from ______ comedy class" - Contrary to popular belief, the matriculation rate from comedy and improv classes is surprisingly high. It's not West Point.

More than 3 stage credits - If a comic needs to try to convince you that badly, then they know that they won't be able to do it with their jokes.

Elaborate intros that require even good MCs to read from a notecard - if you can't write a short intro, then you can't write a good joke, either.

TV credits that are not comedy - Actors are not comedians...they're actors. The only good thing to come out of the whole Michael Richards thing was that this was proven definitively and very publicly. 

Anything that sounds way too good to be true - Wow, he just had a one hour special on HBO and now he's doing 5 minutes at 11:00 at Cafe Japone? Looks like we showed up on the right night!

 

Of course, everything I listed above are sometimes legitimate - everything except for the online TV show one. And then, of course, there's the fact that some MCs and sound guys just make up stage credits without even asking you - I've been introduced as having been on HBO and having had a half hour special on Comedy Central. So, given that you usually can't trust stage credits, why not just do this: decide for yourself whether the comic is funny or not.

Comedy Contests
Topic: The craft of comedy

Tonight is the DC Comedy Showcase finals at the DC Improv. I'm not going, but I wish everyone luck (a stupid and disingenuous thing to do, because they can't all win, right?). I'm in the Drafthouse Comedy Challenge tomorrow. Also tomorrow, I'll post my most recent podcast, which is about comedy contests (featuring some of the guys in tonight's Comedy Showcase). It's comedy contest season in DC.

I don't want to rehash too much stuff that I covered in the podcast, but I do want to hurry up and get some of my opinions about contests on the record before tomorrow night, at which point whatever I say could be perceived as sour grapes or gloating. So here we go:

I think that comedy contests are good for comedy but bad for comics. Contests are good for one reason and one reason only: they create shows that would not otherwise exist. For example, if the Drafthouse cancelled their comedy challenge, they wouldn't replace it with a comedy showcase; they'd replace it with a showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing.

Contests bring crowds. Contests encourage comics bring their friends – some contests are almost entirely bringer shows. People are intrigued by contests and like the competitive aspect - witness that virtually every popular reality show includes the competitive element. Practically anything that brings audiences to see comedy is good for comedy.

Okay, enough being positive: contests are terrible. They’re discouraging. They’re unfair. They’re stupid – what’s more subjective than comedy? No matter how well run – and some contests actually are well run – they’re still unbalanced and arbitrary. And here’s something that came out in the podcast that I hadn’t thought about much before: contests stoke the competitiveness between comics.

There’s already plenty of competition in comedy. It’s just the nature of the business, and I don’t think it can be gotten rid of. My generation of DC comedians tried very hard to avoid competitiveness between comics, which was a well-intended effort but, in hindsight, probably also a bit naive. The people in the most recent podcast, who are a bit younger than me, were big enough to admit to competitiveness, which I think is a positive step. As Bryson said, admitting to competitiveness is a bit like admitting to racist tendencies: it’s healthier to acknowledge it and manage it than to try to deny it.

Personally, I think I’m making progress in the way I approach contests. I’ve seen such stupid things happen in contests that it’s getting easier to actually convince myself that they don’t mean anything. In the past, when I’ve lost to shitty comics it’s eaten at me for weeks; this time, I’m just going into the contest with the knowledge that it’s extremely likely that something I view as completely unfair will happen (for the record, I don’t know whom I’m competing against tomorrow). Of course, it’s hard not to not care when money, opportunities, or prestige are on the line, so I’m not going to pretend that I don’t want to win. But, if – wait, when I lose, I honestly think that I’ll be more pissed off about the money than the competitive aspect. It’s greed, not ego. I think that counts as progress.

So, I think that we’re stuck with contests, and we’re also stuck with the competitiveness that they inspire. Probably the best thing to do is realize: 1) Contests are extremely random, so it probably doesn’t make much sense to let results affect your mentality too much one way or the other, 2) We don’t need to go through the charade of pretending that we don’t care about the outcome; we just need to try to keep our competitiveness from turning into vitriol.

Ri Ra Ri-view
Topic: The craft of comedy

  Get it? "Ri" view! That's the best joke I've written in four months.

  Dr. Dremo's, the Arcade Fire of DC Comedy Venues (in that some people loved it and some people thought it was good, but overrated), died a few months ago. I was ambivalent about Dremo's, but I'll still miss it; half of the time, you got a good enough crowd that you could work out new material. That's a pretty high success rate for an open mic.

  Ri Ra is Dremo's descendant. It's on the same night (Wednesday), it's in the same part of town (Wilson Boulevard in Arlington), and it's a Shackelford show. I was at the first show last night. My impression: generally positive. 

 

  First the good:

- There were people there. Actually more people than the room could fit (by the middle of the show). The attendance pattern actually closely mirrored Dremo's - a few groups of people at tables to start, then no-necked dudes with beers filtering in near the middle of the show. Granted, first show attendance at an open mic can be misleading, but it was a good sign.

- The show has it's own room. The setup is a bit like Rendezvous - it's a room upstairs from the bar. In my opinion, this is a necessary condition for an open mic - I don't want bar wenches and frat guys talking over my set.

- The room isn't too big. I always hated the first three slots at Dremo's because the room hadn't filled up yet and was just too damn big. This room is a bit smaller than Topaz.

- The sound system was fine. No cracking, no buzzing, right volume. It's a Shackelford show - you know the drill: Johnny Bravo amp, small stage, fake brick backdrop, sandwich board out front. Curt has these shows down to a science, and they work.  

- Polite wait staff. The servers who were bringing up food were unobtrusive. Amazingly, not every server realizes that this is important at a comedy show.

- The crowd laughed. They were there for comedy.

 

  Now the bad:

- Some noise was drifting up from the bar below. If you were standing on the side of the room near the stairs, it was a bit tough to maintain focus. Once the room was completely full, they shut the door at the bottom of the stairs, which made a big difference.

-  The crowd was just a bit of a bar crowd. Not stupid, but very dependant on dirty words and punchlines. Very much like Dremo's used to be. If you had a subtle joke or something with a long setup, you were probably in the wrong place. 

-  Given the number of people who ultimately showed up, the room may have actually been a bit too small. Curt says he's hoping to move the show downstairs eventually; I don't really know about that. I'd rather have a small, quiet room than a big, noisy one. Anyone remember that one show at Tryst? I think that may be what we're looking at if the show moves downstairs.

 

  So, on the whole: good show. We'll see if it continues. I hope so, because with Dremo's dead and Rendezvous in a coma, Wiseacres is the only Wednesday show in DC. The Wednesday Wiseacres show has been overrun by about 25 comics the last few times that I've been there. We need another Wednesday show to releive the pressure. 

Yo You Suck You Fucking Faggot LOL
Topic: Arguably funny stuff

  If you've ever worked in customer service - and I did for six years through high school and college - then you probably suspect that most people are boiling cauldrons of rage, with social conventions being the loosely-placed lid keeping the vitriol from boiling over the top. People are angry; they are insecure. If you've worked as a waiter, or a clerk, or pizza delivery guy, or anything in the service industry, then you've been the victim of someone's misplaced anger. They can't yell at their boss, or their spouse, or their parents, or God, but they can sure as hell take you to task for bringing their hot wings without any goddamned ranch dressing. What is this, Afghanistan? I hope you weren't expecting a tip, dollface.

  If you've ever doubted just how angry and vindictive many people are, doubt no longer; internet message boards have drawn back the curtain. The internet is the wild west of human interaction - there are no laws, and justice is rare. When people interact face to face, most people are afraid to be assholes. Society frowns on it, and you just might get your ass kicked. But when societal and survival considerations are removed - when you're safe in the anonymous darkness of your Mom's basement, wearing only underwear and a single sock - there's nothing to keep all the anger and rage from spilling out. 

  Every exchange on every message board on the internet is roughly the same. The topic of the initial thread barely matters - the same arguments and the same assholery always comes to the front. For example, the comments below are in response to a brownie recipe posted on foodtv.com:

 

aceofknaves: First!

gourmandini: too chewy

megwiggle: first!

drandi29: Fuck you you fucking faggot thes brownies suck!!!! they tatse like my shit!!!!

reese_piece: gourmandi what would you know you fucking dago cunt. I'd like to rip out your eyes and piss in the sockets   LOL

aceofknaves: Hey megwiggle, do you know how to count? Sorry to sound pedantic, but...

Kosovi_is_Serbia: hey drandi29 do you eat your own shit?

ryguy: nice.

m1k3: ooooooooooooooooooohhh, aceofknaves."pedantic". you harvard assholes think there so smark

justiceispeace: This is about the level of conversation I would expect from a country that commits genocide against prisoners in Guantanamo Bay. Athens created art while Spara prepared for war, which is why you Americans and your paternalistic, militaristic culture will never truly appreciate the dimensions and nuances of fine food. Enjoy your hot dogs!

aceofknaves: At least I can spell.

m1k3: spell cocksucker you fucking bitch LOL

thedrumroll: I don't know why your so concerned with protecting the terrorists justicispeace. I know you got used to surrender during WWII but if we surrender now in Iraq then the terrorists will be in control. Hillary and Ombama want to tuck our tail between our legs and run home but we need to have someone with some BALLS in the White House to keep the world safe. I served in the Marine Corps for 20 years justiceispeace and I'll take your apology that you don't speak German right now.

bakken: first!

funbundle: (sigh)

hotchocolate18: do you eat your own shit drandi?!?!

aceofknaves: m1k3 I'd respond but I doubt you'd understand...

justiceispeace:  Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Vietnam, East Timor, Falkland Islands, El Salvador, Rwanda, Kuwait, Kosovo, Afghanistan, Iraq...when will you Americans lean that WAR IS NOT THE ANSWER!

a_TOM_explosion: yo check out my band son we be rockin Cin City and all points north south east and west come check us on myspace: www.myspace.com/atomexplosion

 

 

 

That was made up. But still. 

The Tyrrany of the Majority
Topic: The craft of comedy

**This blog was written as a guest blog for DC Comedy 4 Now** 

 

Andy Kline recently wrote an excellent blog about “genre shows” – shows that play to a specific comedy niche. I recommend that you read the whole blog, but, basically, his point is this: genre shows hurt comedy because they allow comedians to hide from challenges.

Andy’s complains about genre shows are dead on. Most genre shows are obnoxious. They’re first and foremost about reinforcing the audience’s identity. Moving merchandise is the second priority, and launching terrible movies is the third; providing good comedy is maybe seventh or eighth on the priorities list. And genre shows are only part of the problem – more and more these days, comedians are selling themselves as genre comedians. Think of some of the comedians who have gotten really big in recent years: one is the redneck guy, one is the frat guy, and one is the Mexican guy. The fact that you don’t need their names to know who I’m talking about just goes to show how much their identities overshadow their comedy. 

But the self-segregation of comedy is only part of the story. Andy calls out genre shows, then discusses how comedians used to challenge themselves by “crossing over” – playing rooms that draw different types of audiences. He’d like to see more of that nowadays. That’s where he and I differ. I don’t like genre shows, but I’m also not eager to return to an era in which comedians are obsessed with crossing over.

Here’s what I think of when I think of crossing over. A few years ago, I was emceeing in a Def Jam-type room. Please note: “Def Jam” is not a euphemism for “black.” “Def Jam” is a euphemism for “combative.” To explain this to non-comedians: black crowds are like white crowds; they come to a show to see comedy, and they give bonus points for comedy they find relatable. Def-Jam crowds, however, aren’t there for comedy at all: they’re there to judge the comedians. They use the first 30 seconds of your set to decide whether they love you or hate you, and they use the remainder of your set to either cheer you like a war hero or boo you mercilessly. I got booed all week. After one particularly rough set, I brought up a guest act. I had met the guest act briefly before the show; he was a non-descript white guy from California wearing a baseball hat. But that wasn’t the comedian who came to the stage; the comedian I brought on stage was a strutting, swaggering jack-ass wearing a backwards baseball hat and speaking with what I call the “MTV accent.” His first joke was about how bad I was. His second and third jokes were about whitey. From there, he did some of the hackiest, dirtiest crowd-work I’ve ever seen, culminating with this line: “I’ll be black women’s pussy taste like fried chicken!” He was a god – the crowd absolutely loved him. He had successfully crossed over.

In comedy, this man will judge you. 

Now, I’m positive that Andy isn’t advocating this type of comedy when he encourages comedians to cross over. That story is an extreme example. And Andy isn’t encouraging comics to play different rooms so that they can pander to the audience; he’s encouraging comedians to challenge the audience. But I think an implicit part of Andy’s argument is that crossing over makes you a better comic because you’re forced to learn the tastes and preferences of different audiences – you learn to adjust. And that’s all fine, but I think that this also needs to be said: there have to be limits on how much a comedian changes him or herself to please the audience.

As many comedians have noted, comedy mixes styles and genres more than any other form of entertainment. Most comedy shows are advertised only as “comedy” – no other form of entertainment does this. You’ll never see a Cineplex marquee that just says “Movie!” No concert has ever featured four unnamed musical acts that turn out to be a metal band, a rap group, an opera singer, and a country jamboree. But this type of thing happens all the time in comedy. The range of tastes that comedians are expected to satisfy is already ridiculously broad.

It isn’t good for comedy when incredible breadth is a prerequisite for success. We had that atmosphere once, back in the 1980’s. Back then (and, obviously, I’m relying on the recollections of people who were actually there), there was only one way to make it: you got on The Tonight Show, and if Johnny waved you over to the couch after your set, you were in. Of course, The Tonight Show – even then – featured very broad humor; remember, it was the only game in town for the entire country at 11:30. So, basically, you either wrote jokes that appealed to everyone in the country – including 14-year-old boys, 60-year-old widows, soccer moms, drug addicts, and everyone in between – or you didn’t make it. Period. That’s unbelievably constrictive.

To be fair, that era produced some truly great comics. But it also produced a remarkable number of hacks. Remember all the guys in sweaters doing observational humor on Evening at the Improv – the comics Jerry Seinfeld made fun of on SNL’s Stand Up and Win sketch? Those were all guys who were trying to get on The Tonight Show. When comics try too hard to be all things to all people, comedy gets limited to the five topics to which everyone can relate: TV, work, dogs, relationships, and air travel. It’s pretty bleak.

 

What's the deal with this thing? Do we really need this much Mountain Dew?

But the hacks don’t bother me as much as the true tragedy of the 1980’s system: all the great comics who didn’t make it. The system back then put so much emphasis on breadth that there wasn’t much room left for comics with a great deal of appeal to a narrow segment of the audience. When I ask myself whether a lot of my favorite comedians – such as Paul F. Tompkins, Eddie Izzard, and Todd Barry – would have made it during the 1980s, the answer is probably “no.” They just aren’t broad enough. If the Balkanization of comedy is bad because it rewards jokes that aren’t funny, then the homogenization of comedy is bad because it punishes jokes that are funny.

That’s not only unfair to the comedians – it’s also unfair to the audience. Putting aside your opinion of Kat Williams for a minute, ask yourself: who was the Kat Williams of the 1980’s? I don’t think there was one. Or, more accurately, there probably was one, but we never heard of him because he wasn’t broad enough to make it on The Tonight Show. There is obviously a market for Kat Williams’ humor; it just happens to be a deep, narrow market instead of a broad, shallow one.

The Maria Bamford of the 1980s. 

Of course, Andy and I aren’t actually very far apart on this issue. I don’t think that Andy is arguing for homogenization; I think that he wants comics to challenge themselves, and he’s also reacting to the arrogant “I’m above the audience” attitude that some comics adopt. And I agree with both points. Comedians should challenge themselves - anyone can make their friends laugh, but comedians are supposed to be able to make strangers laugh. And a comedian should always go onstage with the goal of making the audience laugh; if you want to create high art, go write a symphony. Comedy is entertainment.

What I’m advocating is essentially a balance. Comedians should challenge themselves by trying to make different types of crowds laugh, but they should stay within the parameters of their actual personality and taste. And I’m okay with genre shows, but only if the comics use the opportunities those shows provide to produce quality comedy instead of pandering crap.

Andy ends his blog with a music analogy: Nirvana, he says, made great music because they weren’t afraid to challenge their audience. He’s right, but there’s more to the story. Nirvana became Nirvana because they didn’t care about cultivating broad appeal. Seattle in the late ‘80s was a second city without a lot of “industry” floating around (sound familiar?). There was no hope of making it, so there was also no point in making the type of music that was likely to get you a record deal. So they made the type of music that they liked, and it’s a good thing, too: Kurt Cobain probably wouldn’t have been any good at teasing his hair and playing virtuoso guitar solos. There was a segment of the population that was never going to like them, and they were fine with that. Which is something that comedians should always keep in mind: after all, during the best set of your life, 20 percent of the audience hated you. In comedy, you can’t please all the people all the time. So, fuck it: don’t try.

I'm Calling Bullshit on the Sopranos
Topic: TV

Last night's unorthodox and cofusing ending to The Sopranos is a perfect time to talk about pretention in art.

  Basically, what needs to be said is this: there is a lot of pretentious bullshit involved in art. People often pretend to appreciate art in order to make themselves out as smarter than other people. That's why there's so much pretending to "get" stuff in the art world.

  Quick story: I actually began college as an art major. In one class, we had to produce one piece of art each week based on a selected reading. On Friday, the class would get together and critique each others' art. The was an extraordinary amount of bullshit involved in these sessions. People would describe the deep symbolism embedded in their shitty paintings, talk about how their work reflected societal trends, and gratuitously throw around words like "composition," "visceral," and "juxtapose." One girl (her name was Willow - that's the type of crowd we're dealing with) actually executed a feat that rates a perfect 10.0 on the Bullshit Scale of Difficulty by speaking for five minutes about an almost entirely blank canvas that should have been entitled "I Woke Up This Morning and Suddenly Realized This Was Due, So I Crapped This Out."

  At the time, I was working part time at a day care. The kids spent a lot of time finger painting, and they would often give me the paintings they made. One week, I decided to take one of the paintings that a three-year-old had given me into class (in addition to the actual, real painting that I had made for that week). I presented the finger-painting just as I would any other painting, describing how the red represented rage, and the yellow represented hope, and blah, blah, blah, wank, wank, wank. And absoultely nobody called me on my bullshit. I got a full participation grade for that day of class. Presumably, everyone was too afraid to admit that they didn't get it.

  And now, people are too afraid to admit that they don't get the ending of The Sopranos. And no matter what you think, you don't get it. Does the blackout mean that Tony was killed? That's what I thought. But Tom Shales of the Washington Post seems to think that it means that the family continued living, same as always. Some people think it means that the whole family was gunned down. But, basically, we'll never know, because we weren't given any information. So one person's guess is as good as any others, and anyone claiming to "get" it is completely full of shit.

  Of course, that's not stopping people from pretending to get it. Here are some comments from a New York Times message board:

What's great about this ending is the calm narcissism with which this nuclear family goes off to eat onion rings after some of their closest friends have been murdered. Sort of the Discreet Charm of the Anti-bourgeoise. Anybody have a thought on the fifties getups on Tony and Carmella in the final scene?

I had to watch it twice on TIVO to get it. Good for David Chase...he had his cake and ate it, too. Bravo.

  **Note - I like how this asshole proclaims that he gets it, but then decides not to share what "it" is. Thanks, dickhead; I guess we'll all just try extra-hard to understand that which is obvious to you.**

A great ending. The mood of foreboding shows us the peril Tony lives with every day, and the unresolved conclusion could as easily mean that his life ends abruptly as that his life goes on. But as A.J. reminds Tony, Tony once told him that you just have to focus on the good things in life. That's what Tony was doing at dinner with his family. That's all that any of us, no matter how perilous our situation, can do.

I personally think that the ending was far from a joke on the viewers. The ambiguity allows each of us to make what we want of the ending. Some folks have delved into going back through the diner to look for clues to what happened after Tony looked up - that one of the FBI guys was in the diner or some such. If that's what they want to make of the ending, good for them. Another possibility: the mob in the US, one of the most storied periods in our history, ultimately just faded away, just like Junior and just like the show. Or: the show was really about how a mobster dealt with the problems of everyday life, so the show ended with just a scene as everyday as possible. It's up to you, people, to make it an awesome ending. If you're disappointed, you have only yourself to blame. The canvas is there.

  These comments have the distinctive markings of artsy bullshit: proclamations of genius, liberal use of "art words," intense focus on themes, parallels, messages, and other elements of storytelling that often enhance a story but do not, in themselves, make for a good story. My favorite comments was by the guy who encourages us to imagine our own ending. Great suggestion, Dipshit! Actually, I'm going to take it one step further and imagine an additional four seasons of the show! I'm also going to imagine an additional five Nirvana albums - it'll be like Kurt Cobain never died! Wow, it's so nice not having to wait around for people to actually produce art or entertainment that communicates something to the audience! Maybe I'll try that at my next show: "A guy walks into a bar, and...well, I don't want to lock your imagination in a thought-prison, so you just imagine the rest."

  Actually, I may be one of the few people who actually does get the ending of The Sopranos. For years, I've become frustrated with all of the loose ends and unexplained symbolism in the show (what did the ducks have to do with anything?...and the bear, which supposedly didn't actually exist?...and was Tony actually in pergatory after he was shot?...and what about all the dreams?...and what ever happened to that Russian dude from the episode in the forest?) and have wondered if these were meaningful elements whose meaning would be ultimately - and dramatically - revealed, or is David Chase just a pretentious asshole who likes jerking his audience around? Well, this last episode provided a definitive answer: the purpose of the blackout was to symbolize, beyond any reasonable doubt, that David Chase is a pretentious asshole who likes jerking his audience around.

  For those who would argue with me, I ask this: what, then, did it mean? Are you sure that you get it? Did you notice that all of the commenters I quoted above who claim to get it actually "got" different things? Isn't that evidence that, if David Chase did have something he wanted to communicate, he completely failed? And if you argue that the show doesn't need an ending, I'm calling bullshit on that, too. David Chase has talked in interviews about how he enjoys plot lines that go nowhere, and events that ultimately don't mean anything, because that's the way things happen in real life. Well, guess what, asshole: storytelling isn't supposed to be a perfect reflection of real life. It's supposed to be a story. Nobody wants to watch a perfect reflection of real life, which is why we watch compelling shows about mobsters who kill people. You know why Casablanca didn't have fifty sideplots about Rick's early life, and the time in high school when his football team went 6-4, and the time he thought he lost that pair of shoes that he really liked but then found them underneath his coat, and that time when he had a dream where his hands were made of pudding? It's because nobody gives a shit about any of that. It's not entertaining. By writing a story or making a TV show, you're saying: "This is a series of events that are worthy of your attention." And that's doubly true when you pepper your story with teasers and hints and confusing elements with purported deep meanings.

  I'm not arguing for complete gratification (which, for me, would have been Tony getting killed or busted). The "Tony never pays for his sins" angle would have been a justifiable and interesting ending. But you do need an ending. And, if the symbols and surrealism had any meaning whatsoever, you should give us a fighting chance at understanding them before you end the show.

  But, I think we can draw a clear conclusion: none of it meant anything. It was all bullshit. It was weird, and intriguing, but ultimately meaningless. The Sopranos was a good show with great characters, several outstanding stand-alone episodes, memorable venues, and - perhaps most importantly - the best chance for 14-year-old boys without internet access to see boobs. But the symbolism and mystery and other elements that allowed it to stake a claim to genius were - as so often happens with art - just bullshit.

KFC Classic Bowls
Topic: The craft of comedy

  I had a joke-in-progress about the KFC Classic Bowls. I'e done it two or three times, and it still needed major changes, but I was determined to make it work. Then, last night on Comedy Central's Last Laugh, Patton Oswalt did a joke (a good one - pretty much all of his jokes are good) about KFC Classic Bowls that was basically the same premise as mine. Strangely, we even both mentioned loading the ingredients into a gun and shooting them into somebody's mouth. So, to make a long story short: that joke is gone. I've already done it on stage, so if I wanted to be stubborn I could argue that I did it first, but I don't see the point. That's his joke now.

  The moral of this story is this: this happens all the time. When I started doing comedy, I had no idea this would happen so often, but it happens a lot. So, new comedians should be aware: you will unknowingly make the same observation as somebody else. It will happen more than once. When it happens, try to determine to whom the joke belongs, and maybe whether the jokes are different enough to coexist, and maybe you can come to some sort of agreement with the other person. But a lot of the time, you will just have to throw the joke away. It sucks, but get used to it.

No More Glasses
Topic: The craft of comedy

            I've decided to stop wearing glasses while I do standup. I've been thinking about this for a while, and I finally decided to change because I think that audiences are making assumptions about me before I even start.

            On the one hand, I feel bad that I'm letting the audience change me. On the other hand, I don't wear glasses very often outside of standup. I'm nearsighted, and my vision isn't really that bad, so I really only wear glasses when I'm driving at night or when I'm doing something that requires distance vision, like seeing a movie. Because I drove to my first couple shows, I was wearing them, and when I showed up at later shows without them, nobody recognized me. So, I continued to always wear them for comedy, even though I rarely wear them in real life. I don't really think of this change as something akin to changing the way I dress or speaking in an affected accent; I'm actually changing myself to be slightly more like the way that I am in real life. It's a stupid thing to have to do, but I also feel like some audience members are judging me for the wrong reasons, and I want to take one of those factors out of play. Anyone ignorant enough to judge me by my appearance isn't someone I want as a fan, but I would like those people to laugh just enough so as to make the show enjoyable for people who might actually like me.

            I am making another change: I am incorporating a puppet into my act. Some people will say this is too edgy, but I'm all about breaking convention. The puppet's name is Ching Ding Dong, and we are going to be doing some hilarious ethnic humor about the Chinese or Japanese (I haven't yet decided which one Ching Ding is going to be). I don't consider this to be pandering to the audience, because people who know me know that I frequently walk around having zany conversations with a sass-talking puppet in real life.

            While I'm at it, I should probably mention this: the puppet does magic. After a little funny back-and-forth with a "pretty bronde rady" in the front row, Ching Ding will ask for the lady's jacket. Ching Ding will place the jacket under a silk handkerchief (I'm really leaning towards Chinese right now) chant an ancient Chinese voodoo spell, and…ARACAZAM! The jacket has been replaced with a spring roll! Then, while the lady is sitting there, completely stunned, I tell her to look under her seat, and – to her amazement – there's her jacket…pressed and dry-cleaned! Then, just before the laughter reaches fever pitch, Ching Ding will say "You give me your dog I make that disappear, too!" Huge laugh, standing O, applause, underwear thrown on stage, I hold up my CD, exit.

            So, if you catch me, perhaps on the Original Queens of Comedy Tour (on which I was recently booked), without my glasses, performing racist humor with a magic puppet, please don't think that I've sold out. I'm just letting the audience get to know my real self.

  The glasses part is real. I'm going to try it for a while and see how it goes.

Lookwell
Topic: TV
  Lookwell is a very funny show created by Conan O'Brien and Robert Smigel in 1991. It stars TV's Batman, Adam West. It is original and hilarious, but the pilot is the only episode because NBC declined to pick it up. I wrote a whole blog about how unfair it is that stuff like this gets cancelled while complete crap goes on to overwhelming success, but MySpace dumped it, so you just get the link, which is far more entertaining than the shit I wrote anyway.