Things that make you go "Ha!" Part Duh

It's appropriate to end this little chapter on what makes me laugh by turning to the keyboard right after the opening minutes of the MTV Video Music Awards. I'm not sure who was funnier: Britney Spears or Sarah Silverman. Or, if you look at the glass half full, you might wonder who's effort was more tragic? A bloated Britney, no longer a nymphet, now a mother of two, her body better suited for a baggy,"Property of Haagen Dazs" sweat shirt; Sarah, the pretty-potty-mouth, and comic dujour for awards shows, with an acerbic edge that didn't exactly have her all-star audience in stitches. To me, her humor is better suited for small groups who guffaw at the expense of the rich, famous and slutty. Before a large audience, though, it seems to cause squirming of hemorroidal proportions, and nervous giggles from those embarassed to laugh in public at something shocking.

I haven't always been keen on "Comics dujour." As a teen, I considered my sense of humor more sophisticated than that of my peers. I didn't understand the concept of appealing to the lowest common denominator (I still don't get it, and it's had a chilling affect on my radio career).

For example, I could not abide by the 70's era Steve Martin. The bunny ears, the "wild and crazy guys," loved to distraction by so many others my age, was lost on me. I knew him as a comic whose hair used to be black...a fellow who'd play the banjo on The Tonight Show. Compared to the comedians who made me laugh until I cried, this white-haired, white-suited silly man was a waste of time. Only the witless ninnies (neither my friends or me) lined up to buy his albums, see his show at the Universal Amphitheatre, and memorize the gags from his movie, The Jerk.

It was a classic mistake, on my part. Associating the artist with the audience that embraced him. 10 years later, with the movie Roxanne, I came to appreciate a renaissance performer, who was stealthily hilarious. He'd moved on past establishing himself with "the lowest common denominator," at least in my opinion. I rate him as one of the most gifted performers the country's seen in the last 50 years...movies, TV spots, his books. He always knew exactly what he was doing.

The same was true of Robin Williams. At the outset, "Mork" eluded me completely because the folks I knew, the ones who'd go around repeating "Nanu, Nanu," were humorless people. On their own, they couldn't get a laugh if they experienced an especially loud moment of flatulence at a Wedding Mass--leg lifted and all.

It was the mid-80's by the time I recognized the artist minus his early, easily amused audiences. His TV appearnces and guest shots were electric. Not since Rickles had I seen anything like it. And Good Morning, Vietnam became only the second movie I paid to see twice (the other was Animal House". I went to all his movies after that, until The Fisher King, which was so depressing, I recognized he was truly the clown (the clown can make you laugh and cry, they say). His Late Show, guest spots would have to suffice for just the laughs, and suffice they do.

Knowing that I judged rather poorly in the late 1970's maybe I should give current teen favorite, Dane Cook a break. Maybe he touches something in what they call "the 12 to 24 demographic" that I left behind years ago. Or perhaps I would dislike him as I did Steve Martin when I was in that age group? Will I, one day when I'm pulling my pension, hee-haw with raucous abandon at the work of Dane Cook?

Naaaaw. Not unless I'm dead wrong...again.

This leads me to the last comic on my list. A former favorite who just cracked me up, and still can when he's not pontificating. Dennis Miller was on my list of the funniest people in the world. It would figure that I'd get the obscure references, the "40 dollar" words, and the smerkiness. His "Weekend Updates," on Saturday Night Live were the highlight of some of those 1980's episodes. His 1988 album (and HBO special culled from the same gig) is still a riot, to me. He was hipper than anyone else, an acquired taste, and a lock to say something that would leave me wheezing.

As Dennis' career took off, it put him in places that didn't suit his talents. His syndicated late night show was uncomfortable to watch because he tried to do what Steve Martin had done: appeal to that dreaded Lowest Common Denominator. You have to in TV. Ratings dictate it.

His next series, on HBO, fared much better, because there were no advertisers or affiliates to please. And, man was he funny. Who else would call those who run with the bulls at Pamploma, "A bunch of guys dressed like Topo Gigio, willing to get gored in the ass?"

God yes, Dennis Miller was funny. Then something happened. He says it was 9/11 (the sixth anniversary of which, we are observing this week). Suddenly the smartest of the smart comics, who fired his lasers in all directions, became the cranky heir to William F. Buckley's throne of pomposity.

The man who once scored with lines like, "Ronald Reagan. 76, this last election. With his finger on the button. My grandfather's 76, we won't let him touch the remote to the TV," is now an ideologue who saves his bromides and broadsides for only one side of the political spectrum. Somehow, the references and big words don't score as well when they're not aimed at fellow travellers. And it's too bad. Both sides deserve a skewering at the expense of somebody so funny and so smart.

You could say this is true, also, of John Stewart. I get the impression, though, that the right "gets" John Stewart, and that when it comes to disemboweling the left, Dennis is coming from a place of self satisfaction rather than satire.

I vividly remember one of his syndicated shows in 1991, when Dennis covered all fields, and he zeroed in on Shannen Doherty, then at her Beverly Hills, 90210 peak. Shannon has never made a secret of her political bent. Unlike Dennis, hers comes via upbringing, rather than epiphany.

On one of those shows, Shannen pointed to a nervous Dennis and asked, "Why's your eye twitching like that, " a cruel and bitchy thing to do to the host of a new show.

Dennis got his revenge when her 90210 action figure was introduced. Dennis splayed its legs, hurled it across the stage, cleaned a shelf with it, and eventually dismembered the doll with a madman's sense of glee. It was a highlight show piece of work for a program that didn't last long enough to have a show of that sort. Memorable, 16 years later. Especially since he and Shannen could conceivably bump into each other at the RNC, next year.

Politics does make strange bedfellows.


Next week, an unfinished bit of fiction based on fact... one of just a few glimpses I'll offer, backstage on the 'ol radio ranch.