Formerly Fat Comedians

I've been watching The Price Is Right off and on for a week or so. This is after Drew Carey lost something like seventy pounds this year. He's skinny now, practically a beanpole. Undoubtedly this is a great move for him, losing so much weight and keeping it off will almost guarantee him years more life with fewer problems like diabetes or joint pain, that kind of thing.
   But he's not funny any more.
   The first day I watched I wasn't sure. It has been a while since I'd seen the show, and it's a new season, things weren't 100% the way I remembered. Drew wasn't zinging them quite the way he used to, but maybe it was my imagination. I thought. So I gave it another day. And another. And another. I was thinking maybe I wasn't paying attention, or he was subtler, or God knows what. But everything else was pretty much the same, same models, mostly the same games, same wildly exuberant crowd. I can only assume that the production staff is the same, even though they got rid of Rich Fields as announcer. Same same same same same. Only the host was no longer fat.
   After a few days' viewing I reached the inescapable conclusion, Drew just wasn't as funny thin as he was fat.
   Which got me to thinking. Why is that? Why would Drew Carey be funny fat and not funny thin? Is it my expectations? Maybe. My memories of the other season and my time 'between assignments?' Maybe. But I think empirically it's the case that he's not as funny when he's thin.
   I think that whatever changed inside him - for the better, most assuredly - that led him to want to drop seventy pounds is also the thing that made him lose that comic edge. Funny comes from a place of pain, and when you smooth the edges of that pain you take the bite out of your funny. It's the curse of comedian's success; when you ease the trauma and pain of your early days you get rid of the thing that made you funny in the first place. Eddie Murphy, Chris Rock, Seinfeld, Ray Romano, Kevin James, it happens to them all. It happened to Drew Carey too.
   I don't begrudge him the change, but The Price Is Right just ain't the same. I guess I'll have to find something else to occupy my time in the middle of the morning. Maybe Sesame Street is on, I could use a dose of Elmo.

Making It Easy With Archetypes

I'm getting lazy. Or lazier, I suppose, and I really don't feel much like doing a lot of work figuring people out. Dogs and cats let you know how they're feeling, if a dog doesn't like you it growls, if a cat likes you it rubs all over your ankles. Bared teeth mean the same for both species. I think as human beings we need to do the same kind of thing. We have language though, so having someone just come out and say what they're thinking isn't the best course of action, they could be lying, or sarcastic, or they could speak some mumbo-jumbo language I don't understand. Like French. No, if we want people to be clear, we need archetypes.
   I'm not talking stereotypes, I'm talking archetypes like they have in melodrama or in Roman comedy. If someone is a wise old man, they should have a long white beard, if they're a villain they should have a twisty mustache, if they're sneaky they should always look from side to side out of the corners of their eyes.
   See, if people would just act like their archetypes it would save everyone a lot of time. Don't know if you should get that interest-only adjustable rate mortgage on the property you clearly can't afford anyway? Check out the broker, is he wearing a battered stovepipe hat, flourishing a cape and cackling evilly? Then don't get a loan with him.
   Not sure if your Congressman is taking bribes? Go to Washington and visit his office. Does he have sacks of money with big dollar signs on them strewn around his office? Does he look like a pig wearing robber-baron clothes? Then he's probably on the take.
   Wondering what your girlfriend is going to become once you marry her? Go visit her mother. Is she wearing curlers with a kerchief wrapped around her head? Is she wearing a housecoat and fuzzy slippers in the middle of a weekday? Does she threaten you with a rolling pin? Then she's a battle axe and her daughter's going to be just the same.
   See? It would work out great, and keep me from thinking too much.

Did You Ever Notice...?

I used to like stand-up comedy. Really. Back in the good ol' days, before there were entire TV channels devoted to replaying mediocre comics over and over and over again. I think I reached critical mass last week, when I stumbled across a Seinfeld episode, and before I could change the channel I was subjected to some of his 'what marketing genuis thought of that...' lines.
   Ugh. Painful. So I thought about all the comedy routines I've seen over the years, and I've come up with a checklist, in case you want to try your hand behind the microphone.

How to construct your own stand-up routine and get on HBO:
   1. Dress down, but not too down. T-shirt and jeans are out, but so is a suit and tie. Business casual is right out, so you're left with 'Friday night club-hopping' attire. Since no clubs will let you in, ask someone.
   2. Get something to drink. Water is good, but so is a bourbon and coke if the bar is complimentary for performers.
   3. Get a stool to put next to the microphone. You'll need something to play with, and something to prop yourself up if you have too many bourbons and coke.
   4. Practice mugging in front of a mirror. You'll need funny faces, especially if your material is weak. And be honest, you know it's weak.
   5. Work out one physical bit. You'll need to jump across the stage, or fall down or something, because movement makes good television. Remember that you're working towards a mediocre sitcom, so think visual. Dane Cook is master of the non-funny, kinetic performance art standup comedy.
   6. Think about what to say to a heckler. Those meanines try to ruin your show by pointing out inconsistencies or telling you that you suck. This is especially devastating to those of you who do suck, so prepare a witty rejoinder in advance.
   7. Have head shots and credits ready just in case a network exec or agent is in the audience and wants to offer you a development deal. Have contract demands worked out, and be prepared to stand firm.
   8. Oh yeah. Think of something funny to say. (see next checklist)

Funny stand-up topics:
1. Those pin heads in Washington.
2. Airplane food.
3. Your traumatic childhood.
4. Your goofy relatives.
5. Commercials you hate.
6. Commercials you love.
7. What if television characters were real?
8. Some guy in line at the coffee shop.
9. Black people (if you're black).
10. White people (if you're black or white).
11. Asian people (if you're black, white, or asian).
12. Women drivers.
13. Since you haven't really done much with your life, your childhood is a rich mine of material, and it plays in with the physical stuff.

Tragically Dead Fat Comedians

You know what we haven't seen lately? A tragically dead fat comedian. For a while there they were dropping like flies, and now... nothing. Maybe it's because there are fewer comedians? Maybe it's because younger people listened to Jared from Subway and dropped 100 pounds? All I know is that lately I haven't heard of someone living fast, dying young, and leaving a king-sized corpse. And if this kind of talk makes you feel uncomfortable, just remember, they would have wanted it this way.

Roll Call
   Fatty Arbuckle. The name says it all, and he endured a sensational scandal and career-ending trial. The tragedy is that his career was back on the upswing when he had a heart attack and died.
   John Belushi. Ah, Bluto Blutarski, we hardly knew ye. John died at the age of 33 in the Chateau Marmont, after a night of drug indulgence. While he died much too young, I think he was spared the kind of embarrassment of a career most of the Saturday Night Live original cast has since endured.
   John Candy. Died of a heart attack at age 38. The heart attack came on after a solid month's eating binge while on a movie location shoot. He was also Canadian, and you know how they are.
   Sam Kinison. Also died at age 38, though - incredibly - not as a result of drugs, alcohol, or any other personal demons. If you wrote a fictionalized account of Sam's life no one would believe it. He was a child preacher for his daddy's Pentecostal church. He lost his faith, abandoned the church, and became one of the smuttiest comedians since Redd Foxx. There was nothing beneath Mr. Kennison, no chemical too vile to try, no vice too perveted to do. Then he began to turn his life around, and some idiot crashes into him on the highway and kills him. Talk about tragedy, Mr. Kennison's story has it all.
   Chris Farley. Dead at age 33, like John Belushi. He died the best death in recent memory, though: after a solid week of round-the-clock booze and whores, he died of a heart attack while trying to take his heart medicine.