Tag: standup comedy

Categories
reviews

Top 10 Posts of 2018

Taking a stroll through Fluid Imagination’s statistics for the year, I figured I’d share the Top 10 Posts of 2018 (as determined by page views). They weren’t all written in 2018, but these were the posts that saw the most traffic.

Using Dungeons & Dragons in the Classroom
The overwhelming favorite, this post attracted more than a quarter of all the page views for Fluid Imagination this year, including a reporter who wrote a series of stories on the topic for KQED’s education blog, Mindshift, and a doctoral candidate who was writing a thesis on using games in classrooms. I don’t know if any of my readers tried to implement my method for using a role-playing game in their classroom, but hopefully it inspired at least one or two teachers to give a try.

Teacher Advocates “Students Go On Strike”
Written in the wake of the Parkland shootings, this post does exactly what its headline suggests: it advocates for students across the country to go on strike until Congress takes decisive action on school shootings. “The politicians need to stop running for re-election,” I wrote, “and start doing the job we sent them there to do: use their conscience to do what they think is best.”

Two Types of Stories
Originally written in 2011 (and one of the few posts that made the transition from the old site to the new), this post was inspired by a question that one of my high-school friends asked: “Do you buy that there are only two types of fiction stories: a stranger comes to town and a hero goes on a journey?” I wrote back, “Yes and no. But it will take me longer to explain.” This post was my explanation. Because it is a top-ranking result when you search for “two types of stories” on Google, the post continues to be a perennial favorite, even eight years after I wrote it.

I Am No Longer An Atheist
Published in early March, this post was a bit of a coming-out announcement for me. For the past twenty-five years or so, I’d claimed loudly and repeatedly to be an atheist, and while I tried not to be one of those atheists who look down on the global community of believers, I did not shrink from engaging with anyone interested in my atheism, and I stood my ground as a proud, public-facing atheist. But after a series of mystical experiences, I decided that “atheism” no longer fit my understanding of the universe. This post explains what I arrived at next.

Growing Up
Cross-published on Splimm.com, “the premier media outlet for families whose lives have been enhanced by cannabis,” this post tells the story of a night I got very high on marijuana only to have my five-year-old daughter get out of bed to ask for my help with an extra-sharp toenail. This post is one of my personal favorites.

Jack Straw from Wichita
In the days following the Parkland shooting, a boy from my town (and a former student of my wife’s) was arrested by the Vermont State Police for planning to go on a mass-shooting spree at a high school in the town next door. In this post, I used the case to argue in favor of abolishing prison time for individuals under the age of 25. And while it’s not one of the top posts of 2018, here’s the follow-up post I wrote to this one.

An Argument About Guns
Another post written a few days after the Parkland shooting, this post examines (in a very roundabout way) some of the points related to the highly-debated suggestion from President Trump and others that the best way to stop school shootings is to arm our teachers, administrators, and school resource officers — in other words, to bring more guns into our schools.

Happy Birthday to Me
Written on the occasion of my 41st birthday, this post tells the story of how I came to appreciate (after not doing so at first) the presents that my wife and daughter gave me: a desk-sized fan and a couple of bags of fun-sized Kit Kats.

The Obligation of Privilege
Written by an able-bodied, 41-year-old, cis-het, white man with an advanced degree and a full-time job, this post examines the concept of privilege, and more specifically, white privilege. It also answers the question: Once a white man admits to his privilege, what should he do next?

Free the Genius of Louis C.K.
This post desperately needs an update. Written roughly six months after the stand-up comedian admitted that he had, for over a decade, been exposing himself and masturbating in front of his female colleagues, I argued that, in the era of #metoo and #timesup, white, middle-aged men needed Louie to return to the stage because his comedic genius would force us “to stand and admit and attack our transgressions in a way that cuts to the quick.” Unfortunately, as we all recently discovered, Louie has decided to take his return to the stage in a different direction. Rather than examining his own moral failings (and by extension, the moral failings of middle-aged white men), he seems to have decided that, since people already hate him, he’ll make a career out of being hateful. In all honesty, I couldn’t be more disappointed.

Categories
featured politics

Free the Genius of Louis C.K.

Mandatory Credit: Photo by David Buchan/Variety/REX/Shutterstock (8989333l) Louis C.K... FX 'Better Things' TV show panel, TCA Summer Press Tour, Los Angeles, USA - 09 Aug 2017

It occurs to me that my blog is not very funny. I don’t know why that is. In person, I attempt (and sometimes succeed at) being funny, using a sense of humor that makes its most hay by overstepping the boundaries of what society considers appropriate and acceptable, a humor based on an impolitic bluntness and a flaunting of social expectations; in a word, the humor of an asshole, tempered (I hope) by a recognition of my good will. While my sense of humor can sometimes lead to a gross misunderstanding, more often than not it leads to a confused moment followed by an outburst of laughter. I know that people who are not funny often mistake themselves by thinking they are, but I do not believe such is the case here; I am quite certain that I can be genuinely funny.

But you wouldn’t think it if you only knew me by my blog.

I write weird, passionate shit about politics, god, religion, and education (with a smattering of wandering critiques of films, books, comedians, musicians, television shows, etc.). I do not, however, seem to write anything particularly funny.

I am okay with that. There is a difference between me, the writer, and me, the person. The writer is part of me, but not all of me; nor do I need it to be.

Part of my job as a teacher is to help students discover and channel their *authorial* voice. There are two practical reasons for this. First, the language of academia is the language of authority; it recognizes and rewards confidence, clarity, and cohesion. If students are to be successful in academia, they must learn to read and write in its language.

Second, because the language of academia rewards confidence, clarity, and cohesion, discovering the ability to channel that language through one’s brain leads to increased self-confidence, intellectual clarity, and a sense of self-cohesion, the exact skills we want all children to develop as they grow into mature and responsible adults.

We look at the world and we realize that it’s not only academia that rewards self-confidence, but all of life in general; and we see that intellectual clarity is a universal value, respected by all people and all cultures; and we also see the destruction that can be wrought by persons who have no sense of themselves, no understanding of their neuroses or anxieties, and no capability to recognize the difference between healthy and unhealthy coping methods, and we all agree that self-cohesion and self-awareness are integral to a personally, professionally, and socially responsible life. Discovering and channeling one’s authorial voice is not just a practical skill; it’s a life skill.

There is more to life, however, than the authorial voice. There is also a voice that speaks the language of comedy.

Where the language of academia rewards confidence, clarity, and cohesion, the language of comedy rewards surprise, authenticity, and the unsought insight, a perspective on reality that shifts an audience ever so slightly to a greater understanding of an already agreed-upon objective truth — the ah-ha inside of the ha-ha.

While there are hundreds (if not thousands or tens of thousands) of geniuses who speak the language of academia, there have not been scores of geniuses who speak the language of comedy.

Louis C.K. is one of them.

I am not going to analyze that statement. If you don’t recognize the genius of Louis C.K.’s comedy, then you don’t understand the language of comedy, and any attempt I might make to translate it would do it a great disservice, like translating the Koran out of its original Arabic. It simply can’t be done; or at the very least, I am not the person to do it.

I will say that people whose opinions on the subject you ought to respect way more than mine agree with the sentiment that Louis C.K. is a comedic genius. If you don’t think so, I can only invite you to try again.

With that being said, I want to make a proposal.

I say this as a white, cis, heterosexual, 40-year-old man who makes significantly less than $100,000 a year but attempts to live a lifestyle in which that is not true (hence my financial debts). I say it as a man with a Master’s degree, a full-time job that he loves, and a family he could not feel more thankful for.

Speaking as that man, I say, “I want Louis C.K. to be let out of the box.”

Louis C.K. is a genius, as is Woody Allen, as is Jimmy Page, as was Martin Luther King, Jr., as was Ghandi, as was Picasso. I don’t believe their genius should give their transgressions a pass; they should be held accountable for their actions in both a legal and a moral sense. But I also believe that they should be allowed to speak in the language of their genius.

I don’t think Louis C.K. will defend himself in the court of public opinion. His transgressions, masturbatory as they were, stem from a place of shame and guilt, both of which are on adamant display throughout each and every one of his jokes. Louis C.K. has long since convicted himself of some moral crime whose penalty carries a sentence of life, and he will continue to maintain his confession and conviction in whatever future we eventually allow him to have.

I think it ought to be a future where he provides us with his genius’s perspective; as stained as it may be with our knowledge of his transgressionss, it is still a perspective worth having.

I think it is possible to seperate the comedy from the comedian, the art from the artist, the authorial voice from the person. There is a cliche in literary theory that tells us “The author is dead” — if one is to understand (or create) a text fully, one must believe that there is only the text, nothing but the text, and its author ought not matter. Following the cliche allows a wide range of interpretations on any given text, freeing the literary critic to partake in its creative process, not as an objective observer but as a subjective experience.

We ought to treat the language of any artform in the same way. If the author is dead, then the comedian should be as well.

I keep saying that Louis C.K.’s “genius” speaks in the language of comedy. The origin of the word “genius” lies in the conception of a seperate entity attending to another person’s body; the word “genius” quite literally means the presence of something other than the person who displays it. In other words, a person is not a genius, as much as a person *has* a genius, much as a person might have a *jinn*.

If Louis C.K.’s genius is just that, an entity seperate from the perverted, public-masturbating person whom also inhabits that body, we do ourselves a disservice by not allowing it to speak. We cut ourselves off from shifting our perspectives ever so slightly to a greater understanding of an already agreed-upon objective truth and stop ourselves from experiencing the geniune ah-ha to be found inside of a genius joke.

I value the perspective on life that Louis C.K.’s genius provided. I did not find myself in it as much as want myself to share the moral sensibility that fuels it, the one that finds so much of human nature (particularly one’s own) at fault. I appreciate the judgements it makes on how some of us — white men, in particular — live our lives in the 21st century in the United States. I appreciate the way it calls us — white men, in particular — to account.

If we were to let Louis C.K. out of the box, I do not think his genius would allow him to defend himself. I think it will lead him to attack, attack, and attack himself, like the masturbatory genius it is, but it will do it in a way that speaks to white males like me, calling us to stand and admit and attack our transgressions in a way that cuts to the quick.

I think it’s time for his genius to come back. I think both he and other white men need to have themselves a talk, and I think his genius can lead it: a blunt-spoken, funny, judgemental prick who loathes his body just enough to not care what anyone else around it thinks. His genius is the guilty, confessing preacher we need, and the guilty, confessing martyr some of us hope will come back, raised from the grave where we buried it, and once-again, as always, still alive.

We, as a society, deserve it.

And I say that in my best authorial voice, and in a way that wasn’t funny at all.

Categories
reviews

Dave Chappelle Needed to Talk #MeToo

Dave Chappelle is getting some shit for his latest specials on Netflix, particularly his take on the revelations of widespread sexual assault and sexual harassment as a deep and ever-present reality for women in the workplace.

In his review, “Dave Chappelle Stumbles Into the #MeToo Moment,” Jason Zinoman writes for the New York Times, “In this paradigm-shifting moment, when victims are speaking out and revealing secrets long buried, Mr. Chappelle is ignoring the historical context, the systemic barriers preventing women from speaking up about abuse or succeeding in comedy.”

In his review, “Dave Chappelle’s ‘reckless’ #MeToo and trans jokes have real after-effects,” Brian Logan writes for The Guardian, “[Chapelle] makes [a] familiar claim, which is that it’s not a comedian’s job to be right, but to be reckless… I take Chappelle’s central point, that comedy has to defend its right to go against the grain, to test the boundaries of the sayable…And yet…[s]everal of [his] jokes punch down; others rehash the idea that victims of sexual harassment should ‘man up.’ These aren’t the boundaries of the sayable: this is what reactionaries say every day…I’m not convinced Chappelle is being reckless…These are deliberate choices, made by a comic who clearly weighs his every word.”

In his review, “Dave Chappelle Is Mostly Disappointing in His New Netflix Specials,” Matt Zoller Seitz writes for Vulture, “Chappelle…seem[s] out of touch at best, stubbornly reactionary at worst, and imperiously annoyed at anyone who dares to tell him that a lot of what he says is not worth saying. [His] sentiments seemed to be punching down for no good reason, and…the material was self-aggrandizing, poorly paced, and inelegantly shaped.”

The negative reviews continue.

My wife just walked behind me while FaceTiming with her sister and said something along the lines of, “Kyle is writing a blogpost to mansplain why people shouldn’t be condemning Dave Chappelle for his latest special.”

But that’s not what I want to do. What I want to do is figure out why I enjoyed the specials so much. If so many people who probably share many of my values were upset by his comedy, I wonder why am I not.

I explored some of this a few weeks ago in a lament over Tig Notaro neglecting to discuss the #metoo movement (especially the Louie C.K. aspect of it) during a live set I attended. I concluded that piece by saying, “I want to hear [about this topic] in a stand-up format. I need to hear a long, layered, intelligent, emotional, and deeply comedic monologue on Louie’s crimes and on the way individual humans, society, and the subculture of comedy nerds ought to reckon with it.”

I also wrote I wanted to hear this monologue from Tig “more than I want to hear [it] from…Dave Chappelle.”

Well, with one of  Chappelle’s latest specials, I got to hear it from him. I’m paraphrasing to remove the comedic aspects, but he basically said, “What Louie did was wrong, but these girls have to toughen up. If seeing a dude’s dick can throw you off your dream like that, then you probably weren’t tough enough to achieve your dream in the first place.”

And that, my friends, is why, on this issue, I wasn’t looking for guidance from Dave Chappelle. I already understand Chappelle’s perspective on the issue, as I understand it from most other men’s perspectives. It’s not about that.

Unless Chappelle or Chris Rock or Bill Burr or one of the other male comedians I respect wants to address the issue from the perspective of the piece of shit who can’t control their urges enough to honor the basic decency of other human beings — unless they’re gonna take me inside Louie’s head and show me what gives him the right — then I don’t really need their thoughts on the topic.

That’s not to say I don’t want to hear how they fashion comedy around the #metoo movement. I thought Chappelle’s stuff was funny; I don’t have to agree with him or receive insight from him to find it funny. Even reactionary ideas can be funny, otherwise South Park wouldn’t still be on the air after two decades.

But I don’t expect wisdom on this particular topic to come from too many middle-aged men, the same men who came to whatever power they have through the same patriarchal system that is on trial right now.

Because I wasn’t looking for wisdom from Chappelle, I don’t much care that he didn’t deliver it on this particular topic.

What I cared about was his ability to perform a ~10-minute, detailed description of the Emmet Till murder in the middle of a COMEDY special. What I cared about was his ability to perform a ~15 minute, detailed story about the way a particular pimp manipulated and exploited his most important prostitute, and do so with very few laughs…again, in the middle of a COMEDY special.

Both of these stories shared an insight that I didn’t yet have. The first built up to a hopeful message that sometimes the worst shit has to happen for the best shit to come to fruition — Emmet Till’s senseless murder led to the Civil Rights Movement led to Barack Obama. The second story demonstrated some of the worst aspects of unchecked capitalism: in pursuit of the almighty dollar, capitalists manipulate and exploit even the most vulnerable among us; they have no shame, no sympathy, and no heart — they have only the will to exploit. And they’re in charge of the entertainment industry.

Chappelle attempts things in his comedy that few others do. He allows his audiences to sit for tens of minutes at a time without a laugh, and when he reaches the “punchline,” he sometimes allows it to be something other than funny.

Chappelle is intelligent, insightful, and artful. He doesn’t have a clear vision on every topic, but neither does anyone else.

Wittgenstein wrote, “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.”

For comedians, however, he ought to have written, “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must begin thy set.”

Categories
reviews

The Comedy Contest

To conclude his well-written review of Dave Chappelle’s latest performance at Radio City Music Hall in New York City, Jason Zinoman of the NY Times writes:

At his best, Mr. Chappelle’s [sic] proves that thoughtfulness can make a joke funnier. Making smart comedy that is argumentative and funny is not a zero sum game, but his first performance of a long residency at Radio City does occasionally makes you wonder if it is.

That is not a well-written conclusion, but there’s an interesting idea at the heart of it. I think what Mr. Zinoman is trying to say (and I could be wrong) is that Dave Chappelle might be the smartest comedian alive, but only if you think comedy is a contest.

In any sane person’s mind, the top three comedians in the world right now have to be Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock, and Louis C.K. There are hundreds of worthy stand-up comedians in the industry, but those three have to be at the top.

If our criteria remains Zinoman’s — smart, argumentative, and funny — I’d be willing to let Jon Stewart be part of the conversation, but if he really wants a shot, he’ll have to release a stand-up special sometime this century (which, apparently, he will be doing…soon?).

Additionally, I’d be willing to discuss Bo Burnham. I know that’s a controversial entry because, for many, Burnham’s comedy is still a bit too gimmicky, but he’s doing innovative material with a young man’s energy and a hyper self-awareness that speaks to the people of his generation. He’s able to argue with an audience if he feels they need it, and he’s willing to call into question some of the fundamental beliefs that they hold dear. At the same time, his hyperkinetic energy and his reliance on his musical talent have kept him, I suspect, from reaching a multi-generational audience.

Bill Burr also has to be part of the conversation. Bill Burr brings an unironic and uncynical anger to the stage, knowing at all points that he must be a psycho because he gets angry about things that regular people don’t angry about, like the idea that there’s no reason to hit a woman. That anger, however, is his talent. It allows him to notice things that all of us feel or suspect but that we don’t know how to articulate — for example, see his continued ability to get an audience to clap for the idea that mass genocide is necessary for our overpopulated species to continue.

Over the past six or seven years, Burr’s stage presence has benefitted from his increased acting experience. He’s developed the confidence to examine the narrative elements of a joke and a storyteller’s recognition that narrative alone can carry the tension, and not just the audience’s expectation of a laugh.

Playing with audience expectations might be his strongest skill. While all great comedians are willing to challenge their audiences, Burr is unabashed in his contempt for any audience trying to punch above its weight class. The prime example of this is when he berated, for a full twelve minutes, an unruly audience in Philadelphia (if that’s not redundant). The audience had booed almost every other comedian off stage during a festival, but, for twelve minutes, Burr attacked them head on, targeting everything that is wrong with Philadelphia, taking each boo as a badge of honor, and challenging them not to laugh as he tore them a new one.

With that being said, Burr’s comedy specials have also felt a bit insular. It’s a Bostonian’s insurality, to be sure — insightful, aware, proud, shamefully honest, and deeply insecure — but it’s an insularity that prevents him from going deeper than he already has. That insularity might be why he keeps returning to the well of overpopulation and political conspiracy.

Burr’s last few specials have all been fantastic. His skills as a joke teller, storyteller, tactical observer, and stage performer have increased with each one. But the philosophical depth of his targets remains limited, as if he’s blind to some significant element in the field of comedic possibility.

It might be that Burr doesn’t often talk about his family. He isn’t shy about it — you can track the growth of the man with the growth of his relationship to his partner (first his girlfriend, now his wife) — but he doesn’t dwell on family the way Rock, Chappelle, and C.K. do. It’s probably because Burr only had his first child in January of this year, and so his perspective on the family has been lacking that crucial parental angle. I’m intrigued to see how being a dad enriches his material in the next special.

There are other great comedians of course: Norm Macdonald, Kevin Hart, Jim Gaffigan, Jerry Seinfeld, Patton Oswalt, Hannibal Burress, Tig Notaro, Ellen Degeneres, etc. But if comedy is a zero-sum game, there’s only room at the top for one.

Unfortunately, trying to choose between Chappelle, Rock, and C.K. is like trying to choose between Jordan, Lebron, and Bird, with no clear indication as to which comedian transfers into which basketball player. And with no clear answer, all you can do is sit back, relax, and enjoy their greatness.