So we tuned into the William Shatner roast on Comedy Central last night, except–although I didn’t keep a running tally–it sure felt like there were more jokes about George Takei than there were about Shatner. Comedians–and I use the term extremely loosely–simply couldn’t get enough of making jokes about George’s having come out. Even George’s entire speech was about the subject. I give it four HSGs, which is the number of times I said, “Holy šhìŧ, George!” throughout the course of it. At least George carried it off with gentlemanly archness that provided amusing contrast to what he was saying. But…geez. An hour of jokes about George’s genitalia?
I was just–I dunno. It’s just that I’m old enough to remember the Friars Club roasts. And maybe they were watered down for TV and there were all kinds of dirty bits that got edited out, but the lacerations in those days were filled with wit and style and didn’t require endless expletives that had to get bleeped out. I don’t give a dámņ about profanity if it’s funny. It’s when it’s used as a substitute for humor–when people laugh in shock or discomfort at word choice rather than because it’s funny. Umpteen comments about George Takei shoving his bleep up someone’s bleep…that’s the state of American humor? Ironically it was Shatner who mostly got just the right mix in his closing comments, wryly commenting to George, “The people here certainly tore you a new áššhølë,” waiting a beat, then dropping his voice to a gravely mumble and adding, “But I’m sure you’ll find a use for it” before losing the high ground by making loud bleeped comments about oral gratification.
It just says something to me that most comedians anyone would have heard of–people who might have raised the level of the humor–didn’t come within ten miles of the event. And so the humor level was instead dragged down. There were a lot of genuinely funny comments, but Shatner’s semi-bewildered “Who the hëll ARE you people?” in his closing really underscored the problem and the C-Level of comedians who were in attendance. Ironically, Andy Ðìçk–whom I usually can’t stand–was actually funny in his incarnation as a devoted fan nerd, and there was one guy who talked about George’s revelation without being foulmouthed: The one who asked George if, when he came out of the closet, the door made that “shwip shwip” air noise of Enterprise doors (it was funnier in the telling than the retelling). Mostly, though, it was unimaginative easy shots.
We had a Stan Lee roast at a Chicago Comicon years ago. I was the toastmaster. Not a single profanity was uttered and the audience laughed itself silly.
Whatever happened to style?
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