What in the wide, wide world of Weiners causes a Congressman to tweet pics of his Pete? For that matter, what has society come to, when the definition of the verb "tweet" entails more than a bird's morning chirps?
I'm not sure about the latter, but I think the former can be found in the Big Book of Psychological Disorders. In it, psycologists can find the answers to other questions: What fuels the craving for power? Upon what impulse does the exhibitionist act? I don't mean to go all "Dr. Phil," here, but this most recent, lurid tale of inappropriate behavior by a politician has me in the mood to find some answers, and settle the matter. It could be the jaded skepticism that has grown on me like moss after three decades in radio. A healthy dose of reality roars this full-throated message that Fuck-ups are everywhere; that it's more human and ordinary than we choose to believe; that there are Weiners (those unfortunately named in a similar manner, those not) in every walk of life. We are unrealistically surprised and judgemental when they are in politics or entertainment.
Please remember that in our country, regardless of what you hear, and regardless of its bewildering bureaucracy, our government actually works. It's the politics of any business (including PARTISAN POLITICS) that gets in the way. The politics makes hay of a narcissist like Congressman Weiner and the other Democrats AND Republicans who buy whores, chase boys, pose stripped to the waist, or exercise their horny prerogatives while spouting belief in Family, Faith, Moral Superiority and drilling virgin territory (no pun intended).
Our sudden burst of technological wonders have made it worse. Not much is private, anymore, yet we have to be hit over the head to understand that fact. Beginning with cordless phones, some 25 years ago, a Federal request for a phone tap was no longer needed to eavesdrop--all you had to do was buy a device to hear your neighbor's phone calls.
For those so inclined, it used to take a Polaroid One-Step to photograph your fun-mate in the nude, laying languid and spent following a zesty session of lovemaking. Now, these orgiastic bursts of brain farts are snapped on a smart phone and sent into cyberspace...to what I'm sure will be the future embarrassment of both the photographer and his/her lusty subject.
What I'm saying is that it takes an ego pretty large and a naivety equally huge to, 1) take naked pictures of yourself when you're not Brooklyn Decker, and 2) not expect them to be discovered and revealed.
Yet, it is within the realm of human nature to do so. Decades ago, I had a co-worker show me a Polaroid of his ex-wife in post-coital recline, ta-tas akimbo, looking either like bowling pins or twin baby sea lions (whiskers and all). This was unfortunate--the next time I saw the woman, I had to look away. The embarrassment was all mine, for she knew not of her ex's betrayal. A weak human moment paved the way for discomfort. Imagine the kind of damage that photo could do today?
I thank God for modesty, every day. We're up against a beast, here on this world-wide-web. We have at our fingertips what those born in the first 25 years of the
1900's could only dream of. If there's something you want to keep private, you have to be vigilant, lest you be hurt, and lest you hurt the ones you love. Ask the very lovely Mrs. Weiner, Huma. In my callow youth I used to ask how a guy could even imagine being unfaithful when such a beautiful woman is in one's life. Now, of course, I know the answer is found in our human experience...and that Big Book of Psychological Disorders.
THE KOVACS COLLECTION
My career has been periodically plagued by having to work stretches in late night shifts, and for about two years, the overnighter. It plays long-term havoc with one's ability to straighten out sleeping rhythms. So I'm often up late, whether I want to be or not (contrary to the bleating of at least one evening radio person, after midnight is when most insomniacs are functioning--not earlier). If you've read earlier posts on this blog, you know that, because of the hours I've kept, I'm well versed in the history of Late Night TV.
There is one brilliant comedian who no longer gets the credit he is due, mostly because died nearly fifty years ago, a week before he would have turned 43 years of age. Because so much of his work was burned, tossed into the Hudson River, or otherwise discarded by NBC, it has nearly passed from memory that for the last six months of 1956, Ernie Kovacs hosted the Tonight Show on Monday and Tuesday nights.
The few remaining kinescopes from his Tonight Show work can be viewed at the Paley Center (formerly the Museum of Television and Radio, on Beverly Blvd. in Beverly Hills). To see Kovacs in total, you can do as I did, and get a copy of "The Kovacs Collection."
Ernie Kovacs has often been called the first comedian to truly use the medium, as opposed to comics who performed their radio or vaudeville acts on early TV. He's also been called the "Dali" of the small screen--a surrealist, for sure. I agree. Ernie influenced everyone from David Letterman to Chevy Chase, and was the true fore bearer of Laugh-In, Saturday Night Live, Second City TV, and all that forced you to think as you laughed. I fear that in today's ADHD world, a comedian like Kovacs would be consigned to Public TV and endless pledge breaks.
To watch the collection is to see the genesis of television itself: production train wrecks, pacing and technical problems, the growing pains of an infant medium that would lose today's viewer. Yet Kovacs' genius stands out. Most of his best efforts harpoon TV itself, especially his send-up of the kid's show Howdy Doody, "Howdy Deedy." Kovacs plays "Buffalo Milos," the Hungarian version of the real Howdy Doody host, Buffalo Bob. Buffalo Milos, with a heavy Hungarian accent, and in a full mourning suit, gets so annoyed with the marionette, he walks over, takes out a pair of scissors and clips its strings. The camera then pans a row of child actors in the skit, their mouths agape.
I laughed like hell. When I read in the accompanying pamphlet that Letterman had watched as many Kovacs kinescopes as were available before starting his own show 30 years ago, I could see the influence. In '92, Letterman did a flashback bit to explain what happened the last time he'd been on Sesame Street. In the bit, Letterman accidentally sets Oscar the Grouch afire with his cigar. It's subversive, hilarious stuff.
A great deal of thanks must go to Ernie's late widow, Edie Adams, whose efforts to preserve Kovacs' work were nothing less than herculean. She worked like hell after his death--literally and figuratively--to buy back all of his remaining kinescopes and two-inch reel-to-reel videotapes. When you get a chance to view the Kovacs Collection, it's the videotaped specials done for ABC in 1960-61 that capture his essence best. Sadly, he left us long before his time. I hope this collection keeps the memory of Ernie Kovacs living amongst all who appreciate creativity.
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The subject of the Great Kovacs wouldn't be complete without establishing his place in Tonight Show history. It reads like this: The show's originator and innovator, Steve Allen (who should be the subject of another blog, later this summer)hosted from 1954 to 1957, with Kovacs taking Mondays and Tuesdays in late 1956. Allen started a Sunday night prime time show in the fall of tha year. When Steve left Tonight to focus entirely on his prime time program, NBC opted to make the show more like it's sister telecast, Today. Tonight: America After Dark proved a disaster that didn't last beyond July of 1957. Jack Paar then took over and revolutionized late night talk. Paar left in April, 1962, NBC filled with guest hosts until Johnny Carson's ABC contract ran out, then Johnny debuted, October 1 of that year.
The rest is recent history: Carson retired on May 22, 1992. Leno's first day was May 25, and, save the nine months that Conan O'Brien hosted the show in 2009, he'll host it until NBC is no longer a viable conduit to provide television programming. He'll do the show until he has fossilized--I'm convinced! Woe unto Jimmy Fallon if he believes Leno will ever step aside again...while any of us are young.
By the way, it was while quickly surfing past Late Night with Jimmy Fallon that I thought I saw Christina Aguilera...and it turned out to be Kirstie Alley! That's good news for one, bad news for the other.
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