Commentary
I ambled into a room where a loved one was nearly at the end of watching a comedy special on HBO. It was shocking.
If I had seen the whole thing, it may not have been such a shock. When comedy is really good, the audience gets so warmed up that things become funnier and funnier. Maybe things that ought not to be funny.
What ought to be funny: Foolishness. Boneheadedness. Slapstick to a noninjurious level. Word play. Who’s on first, what’s on second. Parody, including sharp biting satire fueled by righteous indignation. Playful things. A man walks into a bar with a frog on his head. Self or group deprecating humor—“You might be a redneck if” type setups. Madea—that’s right, Spike Lee! Fibber McGee’s closet, which randomly erupted onto visitors in a 1940s radio show. His wife Molly, who created the catchphrase, “T’aint funny, McGee.” Ricky Gervais, most of the time.
What ought not to be funny: the suffering of others.
Ricky Gervais told two jokes about adults abusing children.
What was he thinking? Hard to say. The way he told it, he had made friends and when making friends, you push the boundaries a bit to see if they are kindred spirits; to see if you are on the same wavelength. At a dinner with his new friends he started with innocuous jokes and built to one on the aforementioned subject, to see if they would laugh.
The curious thing is that people who prey on children push the boundaries, groom the victim, to see what they can get away with, much like Gervais was doing with his audience.
Maybe it started with Lenny Bruce, maybe it started earlier with the Fauves and the Dadaists, who sought to shock the bourgeoisie. Each generation of artists and performers seems compelled to push boundaries further than its predecessors. Poor well-intentioned Lady Gaga, consoler to the high school misfit, has to wear a bloody meat dress and shoes depicting private parts while Madonna in the 1980s only had to wear cones.
Are artists and comedians grooming us to become monsters? A monster would laugh at a child being destroyed, and what Gervais was joking about would destroy a child.
He told his first joke and got a pretty big laugh, but was later embarrassed by it when his host asked him to repeat it to an elderly uncle. That implied a little decency.
For the final joke, he prepared the audience. “Get the car ready. I’m not kidding,” he warned. The idea was the joke was so vile the crowd would attack him.
Ricky Gervais, you are better than that. Please return to swimming elephants, the invention of lying, and socially inept bosses. The movie “Ghost Town” should be a classic, exploring the big theme of redemption the way Charles Dickens did in “A Christmas Carol.” That humor does not make a person wish his mind could take a shower. This special left me feeling slimed.
The final joke was as vile as promised.
He got a roaring standing ovation.
I wish I could un-hear it.
[email protected]
If I had seen the whole thing, it may not have been such a shock. When comedy is really good, the audience gets so warmed up that things become funnier and funnier. Maybe things that ought not to be funny.
What ought to be funny: Foolishness. Boneheadedness. Slapstick to a noninjurious level. Word play. Who’s on first, what’s on second. Parody, including sharp biting satire fueled by righteous indignation. Playful things. A man walks into a bar with a frog on his head. Self or group deprecating humor—“You might be a redneck if” type setups. Madea—that’s right, Spike Lee! Fibber McGee’s closet, which randomly erupted onto visitors in a 1940s radio show. His wife Molly, who created the catchphrase, “T’aint funny, McGee.” Ricky Gervais, most of the time.
What ought not to be funny: the suffering of others.
Ricky Gervais told two jokes about adults abusing children.
What was he thinking? Hard to say. The way he told it, he had made friends and when making friends, you push the boundaries a bit to see if they are kindred spirits; to see if you are on the same wavelength. At a dinner with his new friends he started with innocuous jokes and built to one on the aforementioned subject, to see if they would laugh.
The curious thing is that people who prey on children push the boundaries, groom the victim, to see what they can get away with, much like Gervais was doing with his audience.
Maybe it started with Lenny Bruce, maybe it started earlier with the Fauves and the Dadaists, who sought to shock the bourgeoisie. Each generation of artists and performers seems compelled to push boundaries further than its predecessors. Poor well-intentioned Lady Gaga, consoler to the high school misfit, has to wear a bloody meat dress and shoes depicting private parts while Madonna in the 1980s only had to wear cones.
Are artists and comedians grooming us to become monsters? A monster would laugh at a child being destroyed, and what Gervais was joking about would destroy a child.
He told his first joke and got a pretty big laugh, but was later embarrassed by it when his host asked him to repeat it to an elderly uncle. That implied a little decency.
For the final joke, he prepared the audience. “Get the car ready. I’m not kidding,” he warned. The idea was the joke was so vile the crowd would attack him.
Ricky Gervais, you are better than that. Please return to swimming elephants, the invention of lying, and socially inept bosses. The movie “Ghost Town” should be a classic, exploring the big theme of redemption the way Charles Dickens did in “A Christmas Carol.” That humor does not make a person wish his mind could take a shower. This special left me feeling slimed.
The final joke was as vile as promised.
He got a roaring standing ovation.
I wish I could un-hear it.
[email protected]
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