Anti-Heroes Should Not Run A Country Blog

Anti-Heroes Should Not Run A Country

Peak TV was characterized by great writing, great acting and in more than a few examples, the centering of terrible people.  The Sopranos, Breaking Bad and Mad Men are the three best of many examples of how, when television was at the best it’s ever been (and now with art dying a slow death during the rise of “Peak Content” it may be the best it will ever be), it was focuses on some of the worst people.  We laughed with and rooted for murderers, racists, drug dealers, serial killers, adulterers, incestuous murderers (once Jamie Lannister began helping Brienne of Tarth), etc.  But one of the great things about art (not content) is that it can play with your emotions and have you hoping for outcomes that (hopefully) you don’t wish for in real life.  But did this multi-decade conditioning create an America where we became desensitized to anti-heroes and just drop the “anti”?

On a related note, there is one particular theme in the anti-hero space that bears mentioning. It seems that America was willing to afford this artistic license to white male characters.  I have often joked (and yet, is it a joke?) that Emmy Awards were always showered on white centered drug shows (Breaking Bad, Ozark, Weeds) as if the struggle of white people who chose to deal drugs was worth praise while equally, if not better, drug dealing shows with Black and Latino people (The Wire, Narcos, Snowfall) always went away empty-handed (and almost always unnominated) as if that artistic journey was not as impressive or important.  So like so many things, I think race is central to the ability of white anti-heroes to get Americans watching and rooting for them.  This, of course, is not to say that The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, etc. are not incredible shows. They are. But if you think Ozark deserved more Emmys than The Wire, I also think I know who you voted for.

And yes, that brings me to Donald Trump.  I have said on podcasts and in writing that I do not think Donald Trump could have been President in any other time than this one. A time where our civic engagement is the only thing lower than our smart phone-destroyed attention spans.  A time following the first Black president. A time when politicians were just as likely to be serving their own brands as their constituents. A time when an entire news ecosystem exists, not to deliver news, but to distort news and foment a singular hate for the other political side.  This combination of factors created a unique and fertile soil for an attention seeking monster.  He has no depth, but that’s ok because we aren’t seeking depth. He possesses no knowledge, but that is ok because we seek confirmation, not truth.  But as I think more and more about all the factors that gave us President Trump, a singular embarrassment in modern political history and a Mount Rushmore of American Historical tragedies, I wonder if our pop culture landscape assisted as well.

People have often cited Modern Family as a comedy that helped America become more comfortable with gay people. If that’s true, then can’t it be true that culture works in reverse also?  That white anti-heroes made Americans comfortable with a lawless, but entertaining central figure (who was white)?  There is just one difference: THIS IS REAL LIFE.  When MAGA roots for Trump to defeat his enemies (Democrats, diversity, decency, nuance) perhaps it feels like Walter White taking out Gus Fring, but it’s actually real people, real laws and the real US Constitution that he is wrecking. But like a mob of people who claim the title of Christians, with barely a connection to Jesus, or claim to be “Constitutionalists” while watching their president wipe his ass with it, these are people who seem to already be living in a semi-fictional world.  The problem is that at 10pm on HBO or AMC, the villains are done.  In Trump’s case, he is just getting started.

You Are Where You $hit Blog

You Are Where You $hit

We have grown too comfortable out in public.  People wear suits to do Tik Toks, pajamas to work and sweatpants to the theater.  Somewhere headphones became optional. The 1980s had one Radio Raheem; we are now stuck millions of iPhone Assholes.  There has been a real cultural regression in terms of manners, decorum and presentation. Perhaps in a society comprised of people that now embody the contradiction of both giving in to a cynical nihilism yet simultaneously desiring a life of crushing/dominating/influencing/serving cu*t, this was inevitable.  As technology replaces religion as the Opioid of the Masses (perhaps the vape to faith’s pipe?), we are presented with the obedience of a faithful population, without most of the positives that religion has provided. If “faith without works is dead” presents a call to action for people to employ their faith to make a positive change, the tech mantra could be “tech without deeper consideration is exactly what we want you self-centered, overly-pampered, flesh sack.”  So as we lose our sense of community, our economy, our individuality, our generosity and our ability to socialize normally, it brings me to a profound question: when did so many people start shitting in public?

Now as my podcast fans are aware, I have what is known as “Bowel Privilege.” That, of course, is the ability to control when and where I shit so well, that one might even call me “regular.”  But it is deeper than that.  It appears my body and mind are almost connected in a way that, barring illness (which would keep me home anyway), I can limit my movements to my home and hotels.  And even on one of the rare occasions when I had awful food poisoning and could not make it home in time. I ended up wrecking a bathroom at Cornel Hospital in Manhattan (security saw the end-scene-of-Airplane level of sweat on my face and let me use a bathroom).  I think that is what makes me so weird – my brain and body after 46 years on Earth operate in a way so that I go to the bathroom before work, almost like some sort of incredible Darwinian leap where my body adjusts to what appear to be my comfort levels.

In an effort to make myself the Twain/Tocqueville/Dostoyevsky of my time I am working on a series of aphorisms that I believe really define where we are. For example:

  • You can tell how eroded the foundation of a society is by how many accountants have sleeve tattoos
  • The proximity to the end of a democracy is directly proportional to how many selfies its citizens take
  • Screens are the babysitters for a collapsing society
  • The more people who shit in public places, the shittier your society is becoming

(my non-existent book publisher won’t allow me to preview any more excerpts from my upcoming memoir “Before The Lips Synced: A Comedian’s Journey in a Pre and Post Stupid World”)

To give you one more personal example, and to make clear that I am aware that my bowel privilege is extreme, I once took a train from Chicago to Los Angeles without squatting. I was staying with my friend in LA for the week, but when my train got in I told him – I am getting a hotel for the night and would see him in the morning.  He did not understand and later told me he wondered if I has a side chick in LA.  Not only was he wrong on my relationship fidelity, but he was vastly underestimating my bathroom morals as well.  I believed that a Hyatt Place was the appropriate place to handle business after a 40 hour hold up.  When he asked me if I really held it that entire time I looked at him, scrunched my face into a DeNiro impersonation and quoted Bobby D from the diner scene in Heat saying, “that’s the discipline.”

But before you accuse me of being assholier than thou, I understand my BP is an extreme. But what I have witnessed from work places, to Starbucks to sporting events, to mass transit and travel is that people have no bowel discipline. Is this an extension of society’s diminished sense of propriety and courtesy or am I just a bored, middle-aged man seeking an enemy to complain about? Or is it both?

My most recent encounter was flying to Chicago this past Saturday. The flight was early in the morning so I skipped morning coffee (part of Bowel Privilege is not doing things to undermine it) and it was a 1 hour, 50 minute flight.  3 people (at least) took shits on this flight.  You either just left home or are headed home (or to/from hotel(s)) and you came this unprepared? Now my United flight smells like a buffet of defecations because you couldn’t wait.  And your system has no filter/control/discretion?  I was 2 rows behind the bathroom so I was very aware of what was happening.

To show you that I am not a hard-hearted man, I allow for usage on cross country Amtrak trips.  But far too often I have been on long distance trains leaving at 3pm or some very normal, middle of the day time, and within 10 minutes of a 12-40 hour trip, multiple people are dropping snickers bars in their toilets and I am getting stage 3 brown lung in the first 1% of my trip.

I have seen it at work places – start your day with 30 minutes of billable shitting?  That offends the space, the firm and the client!

My local Starbucks – I get it if you are homeless and require the services of a Starbucks. Heck – I never even complained about the main washing his genitals in the sink of the NY Public Library when I was studying for the bar exam because cleanliness is next to godliness.  But the idea of me walking to my local Starbucks and then dropping a deuce in the coffee shop when my apartment is a 10 minute walk away? Never.

But perhaps you are sitting, surprisingly still reading this, wondering, seriously what is wrong with J-L.  I believe that with Missouri and Ohio no longer serving as bellwether states in elections, I believe now that “as the assholes go, so goes the country.”  It is emblematic of a less self-respecting, yet more arrogant citizenry. It is demonstrative of people placing their own needs above the olfactory comfort of the community. In other words, in the final J-L witticism my publisher is allowing me to share, “A country that won’t control its assholes will eventually elect one to shit all over them.”

Road Comedy Recap: Trump, Triumph & Tim Hortons in Toronto Blog

Road Comedy Recap: Trump, Triumph & Tim Hortons in…

Despite being located very close by international standards, until a few days ago I had never been to Canada.  I also grew up and lived in New York City until I was 40 and have never been to the Statue of Liberty.  But thanks to the dementia warlord that is Donald J Trump, I saw an opportunity to finally crack the Canadian Curse (I’ve emailed Canadian clubs on and off for probably a decade without a reply before last month) and bring my comedy north of the border.  It worked and I was booked to perform at Yuk Yuks in downtown Toronto on April 9th. Here is how it went:

Travelling to Toronto

I woke up at 4am on Tuesday April 8th (on purpose). I needed to eat a healthy breakfast (knowing I would be travelling 24 of the next 60 hours on Amtrak, healthy eats would be less likely) so I had my black coffee, scrambled eggs and blueberries, shaved to make my increasingly jowly face more Trump smooth, hopped in the shower and then ran with my backpack, suitcase and garment bag to the 5:33am train to Penn Station. When I arrived at Penn Station at 610am it was beautifully and gloriously empty as I stood in the Amtrak First Class Lounge surveying the station like Simba and Mufasa overseeing their kingdom.

                                                                               My Amtrak Kingdom in NYC at 6am

Then came the call for the 715am Maple Leaf from NYC to Toronto. I went into the business class car and saw the one seat empty was the first seat with about 6 feet of legroom (or as Amtrak calls it “space for handicapped passengers”). I then settled in with some magazines (The Atlantic, New Yorker, Swank), a book, and podcasts for the long haul to Toronto.

The trip was on time and uneventful until we arrived at the Canadian border. I checked for my passport for the 47th time on the trip, gathered my bags and went with everyone else to the border patrol check.

If you did not hear them speak, you could confuse Canadian border agents for January 6th looking dudes.  White, tactical gear, thick beards. And then you hear them speak and realize these guys sound far too friendly to be cruel. Of course, if you’ve heard Canadian hockey players talk after games they often sound so much like kindergarten teachers or park rangers that you forget they just committed felony assault during the game.  The way South African, Southern and Boston accents always sound presumptively racist to me, the Canadian accent sounds presumptively non-threatening.

When it was my time to get called I was called by the one woman in the crew, who just so happened to be fairly hot.  She called out my name with a perfectly pronounced “Jean-Louis” at which point I told her I was willing to move to Canada if she was unwilling to do long distance.  She asked me a bunch of questions about what I was going to do in Canada and when she did not volunteer any interest in my comedy show I told her, “I already live with a woman who is bored with my schtick, I don’t need another!”

I then reboarded the train and we made our way the final two hours or so to Toronto.  It is worth noting that although the Canadian train crew was bi-lingual, friendly and more thorough on safety instructions than the American crew, they made a point of saying that our free business class beverage perk was not honored in Canada. THANKS TRUMP!

Union Station-Union Hotel

I booked a stay at the Union Hotel seeing that it was across the street from Union Station (by the way, who was naming our train stations in North America, George Forman (RIP)? – I have been to at least 12 union stations in North America).  A cab driver called out to me as I walked the frigid streets of Toronto, “you need a taxi, friend?” and I thought,”Jeesh, Canadians are friendlier!

I arrived at the hotel and after having my name pronounced perfectly at the border I gave my passport to the hotel clerk and he said something like “jjjen lewis?” and I said “Ooof, Jean-Louis, I thought Toronto would nail it!” and he replied in his Euro accent, “Hey sorry I only speak three languages,” to which I laughed but thought “Well no French and shit English seems like a weird combo in Canada, SIR!”  I just wish my border agent side chick were there so we could laugh at him together.

I checked into my room, which was small, but slick. I then went to Chipotle for dinner (was not sure how late other places would be open) and had a donut nightcap at Tim Hortons across the street from my hotel.  My four, yes four, visits to TH over the next 34 hours would yield gold material for my show, but at the time of my first visit I just enjoyed an objectively delicious donut.  As a patriot I won’t say they’re better than Dunkin’, but as a fat fu*k headed towards an early, footless grave, I will say that Tim Hortons’ donuts are the best chain donuts I’ve had.

I went to sleep at 11pm so I would be well rested for the CBC Morning Match radio show with David Common.

Rise N Grind

I woke up at 4:30 am. Why? Because God hates me apparently.  But it was a blessing in disguise. Because my voice, like a lot of people, is so much different when I wake up, it gave me several hours to sit and talk to myself in my hotel room so that when called upon to speak like Trump on air, it would not sound super crappy.  So I went across the street to Tim Hortons, which either had a slumber party with many adults or is an early morning hang for Toronto’s unhoused population. I had one two donuts and a croissant with a coffee. I returned to my hotel room and resumed talking until I felt like the impression was about 90% there.

I arrived at the radio station at 745am for my 820am appearance on air. I bantered with the show staff and then it was time for me to get on the air.  David Common, the host, has a voice for radio and a face for TV.  I thought, if this is the kind of face you put on your radio, it makes sense that your female border agents would be good looking.  I had a strong appearance and then celebrated with a trip to… Tim Hortons.

The Hockey Hall of Fame

After TH, I made my way to the Hockey Hall of Fame.  Fans of mine know (or should know) that I have become a big hockey enthusiast over the last few years, even if attending NY Rangers’ games sometimes feels like 10% of the audience would have cheered on the assault of Abner Louima.  I have also complained about hockey culture where players cannot seem to master the art of humility without also appearing lobotomized. That excessively performative humility hit a new level when I went to the Hockey Hall of Fame and saw that it was in the basement of a shopping mall.

Hockey hall of fame by the bathrooms and food court *eye roll*

I did enjoy my trip to the Hall (bought a fridge magnet, which I just realized I left in my hotel room), spent a few hours investigating everything and came to the conclusion that Teemu Selanne, who scored 684 career regular season goals, is aging like a guy who has not stopped scoring.  The picture I took is not perfect, but if I don’t share it with you then I’m just a guy who takes pictures of handsome hockey players. Ummmm so anyway then I left and had lunch at Shake Shack (continuing to sample the Canadian specialties). Union Station (Toronto edition) is maybe the nicest train station I’ve ever been to (Moynihan is like a side car compared to the sheer size of Toronto so it’s unfair to compare the two).

684 regular season goals and two piercing eyes

I Live For The Funk

I then went into a funk that has become a sort of regular thing for me over the last couple of years.  I begin to despair about my comedy career (justified), which then spirals to a feeling that my life is failing on every level.  I think this is because of the importance of my comedy to me and how that importance has not been validated in many of the ways I would need it to be, to have the career that I want. And when you consider I have been doing comedy almost my entire adult life, it is a difficult spiral when you think before shows (in order) – I should be doing better – but I am not – have I wasted my life? – is the rest of my life good enough to compensate for this complete failure of my main adulthood pursuit – it doesn’t feel that way – I am in a city where I need ticket sales to even give me a chance at more gigs – and even if those gigs materialize will they lead my life or career to change at all – no, of course not – well get dressed and get this fucking show over with but be sure to text your girlfriend that she needs to make you quit comedy as you have done for half of your gigs this year.

Then I realized I had been sitting on my hotel bed for two hours doing nothing but thinking these thoughts. No book. No TV. No music.  And with that happy attitude I left the Union Hotel for Yuk Yuk’s, just desperate to do the show and never do comedy again.

Yuk Yuk’s

When I got to the club I ran into three fans who told me they’d been fans of mine since 2016 (intentionally or unintentionally flexing that they were fans of mine before I gained millions of admirers for 2 months in 2020) and of course the words of praise, combined with the ambiance of a comedy club beginning to fill up with people, began to melt away the funk.  I went up to the green room to dress up like Elon Musk. I was emceeing my own show as Elon, then a local comedian, Armin Arbabi, would middle (very strongly) followed by me as Trump.

The Musk set went well and Armin did very well and then it was time for the main event. I gave probably a 20 minute speech to the attendees on why they should be honored to be the 51st state and then took questions from the crowd, which I think was close to an hour.  Part of me believes, as I write this, that there is really no purpose in relaying how my set went. It is not the first time I have done a show where I know the show deserves and deserved a 5000 seat theater. But an inevitable truth has been coming into focus for me over the last few years: those opportunities are not going to happen for me. My modest expectations on the heels of the show of a big Canadian tour have already been watered down significantly, so my feelings are not just the morose musings of a comedian experiencing the roller coaster of entertainment emotions. But with all that said, the show was a hard A+. It was beyond worthy of hot border agentess, a delicious Tim Hortons donut and Teemu Selanne’s eyes. The responses from the fans, the club owner and the video crew I hired to record the show were the sort of unmistakable, emotional reactions to deeply enjoying something. I left very proud and satisfied.

 

Now when I finally physically left the club after a mega meet and greet I looked like a guy who had just been fired from a job – limping along Toronto city streets at 1045pm on a Wednesday carrying a backpack, a pair of New Balance sneakers and a flannel shirt (did not feel like changing out of the suit until I got back to the hotel).

I went to my Tim Hortons for a celebratory donut, but they had just closed. As I was walking away disappointed, the employee cleaning up opened the door and said “Sorry about that.”  And that felt better somehow than the quick satisfaction of a donut.

I made my way to Jack Ashtons’ (a restaurant open until 1am), for a delicious hamburger and fries, a traditionally American meal that based on the (thousands) of Canadian flags in the restaurant felt like a trap.  For the first time in a while I slept deeply and had to be rudely awakened by my alarm.

Leaving Toronto

My assessment of Toronto is probably how jazz artists felt about Paris before WWII – leaving my country to finally sell tickets and receive a response that satisfied me is, after having a Haitian father, probably the Blackest experience I’ve ever had.  It is a nice looking city, the people appeared to be as nice as advertised and I had one of my favorite shows ever.  I got a coffee and a donut from Tim Hortons (yes, this was the 4th trip for you folks who were counting) on my way to the train and made my way back to New York.

When I got home I was greeted by Laura and Cookie, as always. I deteriorated into a foul mood, probably because of the reality that constantly hits me with my comedy career – I will not be the success I want to be, but I tasted a night of it. But there’s no Tim Hortons guy to call out “sorry about that” when the disappointing nights follow.

Thank you very much Toronto.

The Civil Culture War: NHL vs NBA Blog

The Civil Culture War: NHL vs NBA

The Four Nations Face Off, which just concluded with a thrilling win for Canada over the USA, felt like a recent high water mark for the NHL.  It showcased its stars in a premium offering of skill, competition and speed. But it also led to fairly predictable, thinly veiled attacks on the NBA. The irony of seeing a country defeat the USA at a time when Trumpism is a direct and offensive attack on their nation, while at the same time hearing hockey fans revert to notable Trump tactics of trashing someone else to make a victory feel sweeter, and making that target (a group largely comprised of) people of color.  if this last sentence made you huff, puff or roll your eyes then you should definitely keep reading, but first, some J-L sports background.

The Utah Jazz Sour Note

Basketball has almost always been my favorite sport. I have been a Utah Jazz fan for 38 years.  While it was Stockton and Malone that created my dedication to the Jazz, it was the franchise’s consistency and resilience in the face of the pressures on small market teams that kept me a fan.  I had witnessed three, organic rebuilds in those 38 years. After Malone-Stockton, came Kirilenko-Williams-Boozer. After that fizzled came the surprising Gordon Hayward-Gobert era and after that fizzled came the second best era of my life: Mitchell-Gobert.  The Jazz organization gave me a product with values that seem to be so underappreciated in our current social and sports climates: integrity, consistency, effort.  They continued to rebuild quicker than I expected each time by drafting smart, trading smart (please do not look at the 2011 draft though – one team drafted Enes Freedom Kanter (the GOAT of Fox News Summer league?) and Alec Burks, when those picks could have been Klay Thompson and Kawhi Leonard) and always giving their fans the feeling of “if we are not relevant, we will be as soon as possible.”

Now I do not want to get into the “should they have broken up the Mitchell-Gobert team?” – they should not have – but what has followed has been nearly unforgivable.  They made some big trades, hired a new coach (a fellow Williams College basketball alum, somehow bringing my connection to the Jazz even closer) and overachieved three years ago.  That Jazz team was doing what Jazz teams had almost always done – competed and performed greater than the sum of their parts.  When it was clear they were doing a forced rebuild I did not order the NBA team pass and then I saw what was happening and got it.  And then Danny Ainge decided his plans to tank were more important than the Jazz culture shining through. So he tanked the season, leading to a low lottery pick.  The same thing happened the NEXT SEASON.  Both years the team was in playoff position midway through “tank” years and both times Ainge made sure that they had the worst possible outcome – losing just enough for a low lottery pick. Creating a loser culture while not big enough losers to draft a Wembanyama.

Now for a lot of fans, the load management of basketball players and the emphasis on threes (even for teams that

Me reacting to Danny Ainge’s tenure with the Utah Jazz

cannot shoot them – hi Hornets-Bulls games) have diminished the game and I sort of agree. I love watching Steph Curry shoot, but that doesn’t mean I need to see every 7 footer do so as well.  I miss the post game and the mid range game and as a Malone-Stockton fan I am particularly fond of durable players. But none of these were enough to drive me away. It was the tanking, so shamefully and repetitively done, that forced me to look elsewhere for sports entertainment.

Jean-Louis is a Fit for Hockey

I grew up a fan of hockey because I loved hockey video games.  The same space that Madden and NBA 2K occupy in pop culture today was the terrain of NHL video games in the 90s.  Hockey was a bigger deal. I could name at least 25 NHL players without watching a game because of the games and trading cards.  Now my Uncle was a diehard Rangers fan, so my allegiance, as passive as it was, was to the Rangers.  My Uncle received calls from high school classmates that he had not seen or heard from in decades the night the Rangers won the Stanley Cup in 1994.  I have a 94 championship hat in my closet, but I did not really care beyond the video games.

But every few years I would catch some Olympic hockey, or playoff hockey and go “it really is a great game. I should watch more” and then never do so.  But once the Jazz committed a mortal sin to my sports ethics, I felt free mentally and with my time to give hockey a real chance.

I have not been disappointed with the decision.  Live hockey games are outstanding. And while all professional athletes are impressive (I was blown away by the ballet at Lincoln Center last week, which feels like sports and art fused) the combination of skills needed to be a pro hockey player feel remarkable.  It made me realize, with a name like Jean-Louis and a 6’7″ 245 lbs frame (my college dimensions), why my Uncle wished I had played hockey (after my stint as a Yankees pitcher). Other than not knowing how to skate and being a “Mary” (an old school alternative to the F word I would hear from my uncle when complaining during baseball drills with him) I would have been an all world defenseman!

Me answering confused family and friends asking, “so you’re into hockey now?”

Hockey gave me something more than just a new sport though. It gave me, a middle-aged man (so weird writing that) a new, engaging hobby.  I had to learn the game of hockey and there is something fun, refreshing and innocent in learning something new at age 45 that doesn’t involve the words throuple or fentanyl.  But going to hockey games, in particular, NY Rangers games, has given me a glimpse of some of the off putting stereotypes of the hockey world, which some of the Four Nations Faceoff commentary confirmed.

NYPD Orgy

At NY Rangers games, much more so than the 3 other arenas I have attended hockey Games (Pittsburgh, NJ, Washington) there is a weird pro-cop vibe. While most sports have force fed the non-sequitur of saluting the flag before games, the Rangers seem to have a Police Benevolent Association sponsorship.  One of their post season awards is named for an officer who was paralyzed in the line of duty and cops seem to always present the flag before the anthem to a big cheer.  Supporting law enforcement is not necessarily a bad thing, but it is hard to remove the context of being in an arena that is overwhelmingly white, watching an overwhelmingly white sport check every box of performative MAGA patriotism and not feel like it is not mere coincidence.  Then there is the anthem.

During every Ranger game (parody video coming from me before the end of the season) the national anthem is a time to scream and shout throughout for the fans.  Many of these fans look and act like the types of people who condemned Colin Kaepernick to employment crucifixion for “not respecting the flag,” but then seem to abuse the anthem for sport, like the owner of a car who treats it like shit, but then asks you not to bring food inside the car.  The idea being that respecting the flag is for outsiders, but if it’s your anthem (conservative white Americans and their plus 1) you can scream over it.

It is with this intricate backstory that I watched what unfolded during the Four Nations Faceoff with disappointment, yet not with much surprise.

Four Nations: USA, Canada, White, Black

I had been rooting for the USA team at the beginning of the Four Nations Faceoff. They had four NY Rangers and I am American. Easy pick all around.  But then the GM of the US team made a statement before the finals that he hoped Trump would attend the finals and that (this part appears to be disputed by community notes under the Daily Beast article that reported) he said the idea of Canada as the 51st state had fired up the USA team).  Despite my disgust with Trump, I understand a national team inviting the President to attend an international competition finals.  But given the political and cultural climate right now (Trump is basically the 1936 Hitler to Conor McDavid’s Jesse Owens in Canada)  it seems that Trump has decided to extort an ally and disrespect their national identity. Good enough reasons to perhaps strike a more respectfully cautious, competitive tone.  I even see a lot of Canadians shitting on Wayne Gretzky because of his ties to Trump.  So perhaps this is bigger than just hockey for Canada, and hockey is just their best weapon to fight the USA with, other than poisoning maple syrup.

Canadian commentor and former player PK Subban did not help himself with his enthusiastic endorsement of Trump’s potential engagement. Subban as a Canadian and a Black man seemed to be doing a double sell out move to a lot of Black people and Canadians.  The response to Subban showed me that in Canada, Trump’s threat and insults were bigger than their national heroes and identity. We could possibly learn a lesson from them on that front.

But when Subban spoke of the NBA, it caught my ear (and my algorithms) more than his MAGA whisperings (whether to create buzz or not – some things are maybe not worth the clicks).  The NBA has been more popular than the NHL for decades in this country.  I think there are many reasons: lower barrier of entry for basketball, infinitely better marketing of basketball, mismanagement of TV deals by hockey, and an almost performative commitment to humility by hockey players (interviews with hockey players are mind numbingly bad to the point of intentionality). Mind you, when the NBA had a fighting problem, they legislated it out of the game because they were afraid of turning away fans. Yet fighting is still part of the culture of hockey.  When basketball players brawled it was thuggery that threatened the sport. When hockey players do it, it’s still the sweet science apparently.

In college when I would discuss which sport had better athletes, basketball or hockey, it always centered on the skills, size, athleticism. There was never that thinly coded language about “work ethic” and “character” and “passion.”  But there it was from Subban and hundreds of social media posts.  As the Four Nations showcased all the greatness of hockey, hockey commentators and fans could not help taking shots at the NBA.  Basketball gave a path out of poverty for many Black men. This is not to stereotype, but to ask, do those stories not demonstrate heart and determination and character, just as much as a grown man playing hurt?  Just because the NHL has not been able to make their game as financially successful as the NBA, does that mean NBA players do not work just as hard on their craft?  I hate the load management stuff. But I also hate the way that a lot of hockey people cannot help but showing their bitterness through code words that cannot be separated from race.  Especially because the hostility seems to be particularly heavy for Lebron James (Michael Jordan and Kobe never got that sort of hate and were specifically exempt from one of Subban’s diatribes). Is Lebron “soft” or is he the only one of the three to embrace Democratic politicians and Black rights? Or is it both?  I have been to hockey games. I see the culture. I see the fans.  Just as I cannot claim to know any one individual’s heart, I cannot, in the aggregate, pretend to see the racial bitterness posing as more “play the right way kid” crap that makes baseball so boring.

And speaking of baseball – if inflated salaries for a diminished product are what bothers hockey fans and commentators so much, how about some attacks on baseball?  What is is about baseball that makes it so immune from the NBA criticisms?

Watching the Four Nations Finals I felt compelled to root for Canada, even though I still felt myself pulling for the USA. I felt the just result happened and it was easier to feel that way while watching a bunch of bros in MAGA hats sitting behind the USA bench.  A win for the USA would be a double win for those scumbags – a gloating defeat over a wronged ally and a win for “hard working, non-showboating, play the right way” hockey bros.  So the better team won and, it would seem, the better country.

The Compromises We Make

I love basketball. I do not love the current product and I do not love what Danny Ainge has done to my favorite team.  I really enjoy hockey and enjoy seeing it live more than any other sport.  I have a quarter season plan with the Rangers and will likely upgrade to a half season next year.  I sit near respectful people and really look forward to the games (and when John Brancy sings the anthem, I feel a swell of pride that almost drowns out all the morons shouting for attention during the singing). But it still feels like a compromise at times. Sitting, hoping not to hear some ignorant stuff (the last time I went to a Steeler game was 2009 when I heard a fan refer to a Cleveland Brown star player as a ni**er, 7 years before I largely gave up on the NFL in the wake of its treatment of Colin Kaepernick) so I can enjoy the game guilt free.  But I never feel that way at basketball game (even in Utah). I don’t have a mild discomfort hoping to not hear hate speech at basketball games (not saying it cannot happen or doesn’t happen, but I don’t go into a basketball game thinking about it).

I bought a Chris Kreider jersey as my first Ranger jersey.  I had been to some games with my Uncle, but I regret that he was not alive for me to become fully immersed in the game. I feel like he would have approved of a Kreider jersey (or “sweater” as I am probably supposed to call it), and he may have called Zibanejad a “Mary” if I got his (no offense Mika – his imagined words, not mine).  Kreider is the longest tenured Ranger and I figured he was a safe purchase (he was almost traded this year, so not as safe as I thought).  He was also on the USA team during the Four Nations Faceoff.  And as the video played of the team receiving a phone call from Trump in the locker room I watched the expressions of the players. Matthew Tkachuk (he of the Morgan Wallen haircut) looked like a kid on Christmas morning.  And then I paused the TV when I could see Chris Kreider in the corner. He was just looking ahead. No enjoyment or amusement. No shame or disgust either.  Maybe he’s a Trump guy. Maybe he’s not. But I guess not knowing at all is as close as I can get in the hockey world to a win on the topic.

Congestion Pricing Is The Least We Can(‘t) Do Blog

Congestion Pricing Is The Least We Can(‘t) Do

As greater Los Angeles burns, undoubtedly from effects of climate change unraked leaves, on the other coast of the country, whiners, fake altruists, libertarians and people who have spent years driving throughout New York City are lamenting the worst tragedy in New York City since the towers fell: congestion pricing.

Originally an idea of then-Republican (or Independent) Mayor Mike Bloomberg, the policy that has been implemented charges a toll for cars travelling into Manhattan below 60th street. There are various exceptions, trucks and larger vehicles pay more and yellow cabs are charged a whopping 75 cents (and $1.50 for ride share cars I believe).  The real or nominal goals behind congestion pricing are: to raise billions of dollars for MTA improvements, decrease traffic and improve air quality. No matter which of these you believe, these are all laudable goals and all true if we either reduce traffic and/or raise lots of money (apologies, I technically live in NJ now, but 39 years as a NYC resident, and a never-car owning, climate change-concerned citizen makes me feel some ownership of this policy).

So in Blue NYC of course people are behind this policy, right?  Maybe, but the loudest voices seem to be the complainers, like the NY Post desperately seeking any angle to demonize the policy (“Funeral hearses will have to pass on the $9 to grieving families!” – yes because when being charged thousands of dollars by a funeral home, it is the $9 that will break the spirit of the grieving families).

My subway station in the Bronx growing up in a photo I took recently going home from my Mom’s apartment

This reminds me of when Mayor Bill de Blasio did not have the guts (admittedly it would have taken a lot of guts) to cap (not even ban) the number of  ride share cars  in NYC.  Like so many libertarian tech “disrupters,” Uber came to the city with private investment money which allowed them to destroy the regulated taxi industry while they racked up debt paying drivers more than was sustainable with ride prices too cheap to sustain.  But once they had decimated the value of Taxi medallions they began paying drivers a lot less (ads went from “guaranteed $5K a month to drive for Uber” to “$300 a week” to “get a side hustle you automotive slave!” marketing over the course of a year or two). But their work was done; Uber was a part of city life (more than once I’ve watched a young dummy standing in the rain for their Uber as empty yellow taxis drove by) and the app-obsessed, labor insensitive, Democrats of convenience that flood Manhattan would not hear of NYC restricting Uber!  Arguments like “but Uber services communities that cabs won’t go to!” came from people who had never spoken of urban struggles before they needed an excuse to keep their Ubers.  “There’s not enough taxis!” said the people who live in a city with the most impressive and cheap mass transit systems.  “What about the jobs!” cried the people who actually deluded themselves into believing an early-era Uber $5 cab ride across Manhattan, which did not even require a tip, was some sort of labor Godsend!  So de Blasio caved to the tech money and the loud whiners and fake heroes of NYC and allowed Uber and its ilk to flood the streets of Manhattan.

So now, with bus lanes (a great addition by Bloomberg that turned buses into an actual viable option to travel in Manhattan if you were on a schedule), bike lanes (ugh) and the addition of 100,000 ride share cars in New York City (which I assume includes beyond Manhattan) you have issues like awful travel times, and slower ambulance response times (why doesn’t anyone say “less traffic saves lives?!”?) something needed to be done to rectify the impact of the selfishness that brought this upon Manhattan. Enter congestion pricing.

The re-election of Donald Trump basically meant that egg prices were more important to voters than democracy, decency, actual data, and a whole host of other substantive things.  And I believe the anger about congestion pricing is another example of what I referred to earlier as “Democrats of convenience.”  Climate change? Who cares, I want to drive my car. Slower emergency response time? So what, I want to travel in an Uber.  Raising funds to improve the MTA which shuttles millions of people to help make NYC work? I. DON’T. CARE.

So we are at a fork in the road in American and human history and with Trump and congestion pricing animosity I think it is clear we will take the path more traveled and that will make all the difference. We have chosen and will choose selfishness. If a Blue place like NYC cannot wholeheartedly embrace this as a collective challenge to be overcome together, for a relatively small amount of money, is there any inconvenience we won’t cave to? Let alone face down major challenges?  The WWII/JFK spirit of past generations is gone.  We take inconvenience (let’s not even get to actual sacrifice) as an affront to our American entitlement. We use “poor and middle class” people as swords to be wielded against policies that make more affluent or selfish people mildly inconvenienced.  We have never built in the costs of carbon into our society.  From hamburgers to driving your own SUV around, we allow people to live without truly paying for what they impose on society and then act offended and angry when a fraction of that cost is demanded (if gas were $12/gallon and hamburgers were $35 each that would be appropriate and would also cause riots and careers to end).  Congestion pricing is almost a concession – yes we know you are selfish and want to engage less with the community in public transit. Fine – but for the impact that causes on society (below 60th street in Manhattan), you may no longer do it for free.  BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

So in a society and world that needs dramatic change, we cannot even join together for modest and needed changes.  he truth is – the American Dream that allows people to live in houses a 90 minute drive from work is bordering on an environmental crime at this point.  Of course, cost of housing in cities is the fault of a certain class of people and government, but not everyone who chooses to live far away from work or public transit is always doing so as a result of housing cost. Sometimes it is the fact that your energy usage are personal choices made easier because the true cost and responsibility are not passed on to you. And for everyone who says things like “but the Subway is so dangerous.” Yes – the solution for that is more cops getting on trains, not groups of cops texting on their phones in subway stations.  The world of “treat me like a hero as my union allows me to avoid some of the scenarios that would require a hero” culture of the NYPD needs to end.  But the truth is, if even Blue society will put egg prices above democracy and selfish convenience over the environment and improving their own communities then perhaps we should all give up on America and the future.  But don’t tell me it’s because you care about anything besides yourself.  Because those working class people you are “concerned” about? Most of them are on the bus and subway while you sit in an Uber or your car fu*king things up.

The Best Trump Comedy Hour That (almost) No One Saw Blog

The Best Trump Comedy Hour That (almost) No One…

Last night I had a live recording of Making Podcasts Great Again in Rutherford, New Jersey.  Making Podcasts Great Again is the show I have done for 6 1/2 years every week without missing a week as Donald Trump.  In 2020 we saw exponential growth commensurate with the exponential exposure I got for my viral videos of Trump and other political figures.  Over the last couple of years I reluctantly continued the show as Trump maintained his stranglehold on American politics and culture, but I decided 2024 would be the last year of the show.  As part of the farewell me and my show co-host, Jay Nog, scheduled a few live shows around the country.  This is the recap of the New Jersey show.

I arrived at the venue in my suit at 725 (my Lyft driver took a wrong turn or I would have been there earlier) for the 745 show. Fortunately Jay had gotten everything set up and our opener and friend, Chris Lamberth, was there. He would be doing double duty as both our warm up act and our special interview guest mid show.  I had messaged a NJ celebrity who follows me to be our guest but got no reply. A prominent NJ politician spoke with me on the phone but politely declined to be our guest.  So Chris stepped up to fill the gap (and for his efforts and the lack of attendance would leave the show as its highest paid participant).

Halfway through Chris’ twenty minute warm up set I threw on my red tie and blonde wig and began meandering around the theater lobby.  An older woman working there had the following conversation with me:

Woman: You’re playing Trump?

Me: Yep.

Woman: Are you voting for him?

Me: Nope!

Woman: oh, you’re not voting?

Me: Oh I’m voting. Just not for him.

Woman: Have you read his books?

Me: Nope!

Woman: His books show you the real him. You can’t trust the media… (trails off)

Then it was time for me to enter the theater to YMCA.

Now I had conservatively hoped that for my show which had once clocked 20K listens and downloads a week, plus my status as a New Jersey Q-list celebrity since 2020, would get us a minimum of 50 sales, but was really hoping for at least 100, especially given that we are a month from a consequential election.  I clearly was not conservative enough, because I think we had 25 audience members (with an additional 5 seats bought by a big fan for us to donate to listeners of the podcast – zero listeners requested any of the 5 free tickets).  I quickly shook of my disappointment and what transpired over the next hour was the best episode in the show’s history and the best personal performance of my career in any way, with the exception of the first taping (album version) of Half-Blackface.  It was that good and I was that good.

Despite the show, I have been in a funk most of today because I have reached the undeniable conclusion that my time has come and gone.  When I asked the audience last night how many people there listened to the podcast, exactly zero said yes.  So a Trump impression that has garnered about 40 million views has led to a microscopic percentage becoming listeners of a free Trump podcast.  And of that percentage, none appeared to attend the show last night (though, from a just received email it seems one listener did attend).  I have friends, family and a lot of fans in New Jersey, but whether it is bad luck, a loss of heat (though not of talent or new content), a changing culture of entertainment or some other reason, the career I have built and the audience I have attracted are not conducive to selling tickets (St Paul, MN appeared to be an outlier earlier this month).

But last night felt different.  The tragic irony of last night was that I really did have one of the greatest shows of my life in front of that small, but appreciative audience.  The episode should be up later this week when we get the audio, but the “Black Panther endorsed me” rant which was either 2 minutes or 20 minutes long (I really lost myself in it) might be the funniest thing I have ever done.  The greatest reward was probably seeing both Jay and Chris busting up laughing during the improv.  But the frustration that has set in today is something beyond the usual “post show crash” that can happen.  My biggest fear for many years has been making good work that does not get seen or heard.  This has nothing to do with fame or money.  But when I did not make some Internet “Top 10 Trump impressions” earlier this year it dawned on me that both the consumption and recognition I admittedly crave are not coming.  And the irony is that the better the shows I have, the more disappointed I am.  And last night was an absolute masterpiece.

The show was going so well I did the thing I am often incapable of doing: held my tongue in the face of blatant disrespect. One audience member, who was with a very supportive fan (which I learned after the fact) was doing fairly loud commentary throughout the show.  It was often repeating punchlines or simply proclaiming his enjoyment loudly, and that would have only registered as annoying.  But at one point a phone went off.  I made a passing comment (always in character), but then it went off again. I then said something again, to which this audience member said, “there’s like 15 people in here.”  Now having a great show is always a challenge. But having a killer show while fighting off the deep disappointment of subpar ticket sales is an even greater victory.  Apparently this person felt that a small audience was not worthy of respectful behavior. Conversely, I think that the fans who did show up deserve even more respect because their individual presence is that much more essential and appreciated.  So I let it slide again to not ruin the show. And mind you, when not offering snide comments or echo responses he was laughing hysterically.  However, the worst was yet to come.

At the end of our live shows we do a Q&A (not for tik tok content BS, but because people want to interact with the impression(s)). The rude audience member asked a question, but then towards the end (two questions left) I heard him say “OK, this is done.”  Now everyone was laughing still, but it took everything I had not to hurl the microphone at this person and choose violence. In fact, I stayed in the green room after the show because I would rather miss fans and avoid being enraged than thank my fans and risk losing my temper.

So if any of my fans who were there read this or end up listening to the podcast, thank you for being there.  I have the type of career where I have hundreds of thousands of followers (the most passive level of fan), but far fewer real fans.  I did not have a real choice in who followed me and I am grateful for all the exposure, but I have a deep appreciation for the real fans I do have.  I just wish their support could be rewarded with a more successful comedian.

Last night’s show was like that old “if a tree falls in the forest , but no one is around, does it make a sound?” saying.  What I can say is that last night a couple dozen people saw that best Trump parody that has ever been.  I am certain of that.  So it may not make a blip on Hollywood’s radar, but it certainly made a lot of sound last night.

The MAGA Black Test for Kamala Harris Blog

The MAGA Black Test for Kamala Harris

I just finished a great biography on Jim Henson called… Jim Henson: A Biography and I was reminded of many things from my childhood, including the Kermit song “It’s Not Easy Being Green.”  At the risk of sounding too much like the worst of Tom Friedman, for VP Kamala Harris, it’s not easy being bi-racial.

As a bi-racial, former prosecutor who has had Jewish significant others, I have particular credibility to speak on all things Kamala Harris (disclaimer: this is a joke. Facts, but a joke).  In the bi-racial word there are many different shades and types (I will be focusing on the Black and a +1 in terms of bi-racial identity).  You have your Barack Obamas, your Tiger Woodses, your Lenny Kravitzes on one end and then you have Rashida Jones, Halsey and myself on the other end (Amber Rose is not invited, though she did find me funny at a comedy club last year).

Side note – if I were a woman I think I would have made a good “beige, sports thirst trap to sit in between two men arguing sports for millions of dollars” woman.

Now one of the things about being bi-racial is navigating your identity within the reactions from both sides.  In someone like Barack Obama’s case there is less difficulty and pushback in identifying him as, or him identifying as, a Black man.  For me, I have been more inclined to identify as bi-racial/check all boxes that apply because of the skepticism I have gotten throughout my life from both sides (much more from white people, but not exclusively) and because I own mirrors.  For more on this please check out the hilarious special Half-Blackface on Amazon Prime (the link is on the homepage of this site).

But for someone like Kamala Harris, both visually and culturally she has embraced her identity as a Black woman.  This does not mean that she is disavowing or ignoring her Indian heritage. But in a country that is steeped historically in valuing (in a negative way) Blackness, even when partial (the 1896, Clarence Thomas favorite Plessy v Ferguson was about keeping a man who was 1/8th Black out of the white train car) it is as if some segments of America, now recognizing the cultural cache and (relative) political power of Blackness in our society want to penalize people who are not “fully” Black.  Not out of solidarity, but for political exploitation.

So Donald Trump, without an agenda or a clue at this point, has decided that his line of attack on Harris will be the favorite of the small, but social media saturating, demographic of Black men and women who do not consider Kamala Harris Black.  Now, some of this occurred with Barack Obama, but he won over white people early, which made his electability seem more possible and a bandwagon you don’t want to miss. But he was also a man, and that gap of pro-Black and pro-Straight Black Men is the place that social media grifters and Donald Trump have found common cause.

To be clear who I am talking about by way of example – if you had a Black friend or acquaintance whose response to Bill Cosby going to jail was “What about Harvey Weinstein?” and then that person did not care to know or value the fact that Harvey Weinstein also went to jail – it’s him (or less likely, her).  And Donald Trump, knowing that his best way to take Black voters from the Democrats is to pander to loud, ignorant social media voices who might just do enough (so the theory goes) to depress Black turnout on the margins, where the election will possibly be won.  This is a man and a movement that believed him being justly convicted for crimes would endear him to Black people because, crime (while in the next sentence saying Blue Lives Matter, Back The Blue, don’t be nice to people you arrest, etc).

As transparent and disgusting their approach is in showing their ignorance of Black and bi-racial people, it’s the way they are doing it that is somehow even worse. The seem to think they have the standing to test or validate Kamala Harris’ Black credentials.  Whether it’s (in jest I assume, but still) that she say the N word and let people decide how they feel about it, or questioning why she could not (or did not want to) name her favorite rapper, it shows you how the millions of people in MAGA simplistically view Black people in this country.  I would not put it past them to want a dance or sprinting component to prove this as well. Because there are only two types of Black people MAGA comprehends. The first is any stereotype, good or bad.  A muscular rapper, a talented athlete, a scary criminal, a poor, single mom on drugs with several children, etc.  And the other is “the good one” like Tim Scott – a man who practically reaches back to antebellum United States to reassure, placate and serve white people – both their feelings and their wishes.

I remember standing in the back of the Toledo Funny Bone 14 years ago and the emcee was participating in a dance portion of the headliner’s set.  I was standing next to a blonde white woman who was enjoying the show in the back and I said to her “He’s pretty good!” And her response was “Well yeah, he’s Black.”  I could fill a medium sized book with all of these things I have heard in my life, but this is how they view Black people. No nuance, no humanity, no diversity. Some of this ignorance is a product of our segregation in society (largely a result of racist laws, policies and customs), but some of it is a result of being a bad person.

Donald Trump has repeatedly, for decades shown himself to be a stone cold racist.  But for any Black, bi-racial or simply decent human being who gets down with the MAGA movement, you are joining the most base and simple group of people in our country.  And to quote Joe Biden (feign outrage, but you know he’s right), “If you vote for Trump, you ain’t Black.”  And however, Kamala Harris identifies, the very last people with the intellectual or moral authority to put her identity to any test are the ones who are dumb enough, racist enough or self-hating enough to support Trump.

Road Comedy Recap: House of the Mohegan Sun Blog

Road Comedy Recap: House of the Mohegan Sun

Last Thursday I performed for the first time in 11 years at Comix Roadhouse, the comedy club located at Mohegan Sun Casino in Uncasville, CT.  Here is the blog I wrote after my performance in 2013  Despite my optimism I was never booked again at the club until last week.  It was a live Making Podcasts Great Again episode and, as always, I delivered a masterpiece. But like so much of my comedy career, the show was only a part of the story. So here we go!

For the trip I had to pack my suit, props and overnight stuff, which was more cumbersome than the usual overnight comedy gig. So with a small bag and a garment bag I lumbered to the 4:43pm NJ transit after a full day of remote legal work and then made the 5:49 train to Valhalla, NY, with only a few minutes to spare, to meet my show co-host, Jay.  He picked me up at the train and we made the 2 hour and change ride to Mohegan Sun.

When we got to the casino at 8:50pm I checked in to the hotel with my hips killing me (like most big dogs I am having hip pain as I deteriorate rapidly) and made an incredibly long walk to the Earth tower.  I guess it’s called Earth, because it… kept me grounded:

I got to my room, which was nice and proceeded to change into my Navy suit.  In addition to being in terrible shape (which as an unintentional method actor, makes for perfect role play as Trump), I also am conscious to commit multiple fashion faux pas as Trump (my Black shoes and belt with my blue suit). As I stared at myself in my numerous hotel room mirrors I had an ever more commonly occurring thought, “what the fu*k am I doing?”

Once I arrived at the club I ordered a chicken fingers and Pepsi backstage because I am a 6’7″ 300 lb child.  I put my wig on, ran through some segments with Jay and then went out on stage after our comedian opener was done.

The live Trump shows have really been some of my best work as a comedian and performer

As I discovered in Vegas in March, I am even better doing the Trump show live than I am on the podcast.  You will be able to listen to the episode this week and watch it (if you are a Patreon member of the show).  We had some fans at the show and many casino attendees just looking for something to do.  After the show a woman who was in Trump attire and a huge MAGA fan told me she loved the show (my politics are clear, but some MAGA folk still find the show funny). I then shared a drink and cheesecake with a fan named Bruce (I had a slice of cheesecake and he had a beer) after the show.  My fans know that the sad state of my career has a distinct benefit – more attention to individual fans!

I bid Bruce adieu and then went to sleep in the Earth tower at around 1 am.  And then at 3 am my TV turned on by itself to the welcome screen. It was so disorienting that I assumed that it was daybreak. But after my old man piss I stumbled back to the bed and looked at the clock and realized I just had horrible luck. Despite the comfort and pitch blackness of the room, the TV must have decided that my diet and stress were not enough to guarantee a heart attack – I need horrible sleep every night as well!

I woke up at 730 the next morning, checked out and had some Starbucks burnt-ass coffee before ordering my Lyft to the New London, CT Amtrak station.  We had a pleasant ride for the most part and I learned that 24 hours earlier, my Lyft driver had found out that he had a son he had never known about. Through 23 & me he found out he had a son with a one night stand in California when they were both 16.  His son is now in his 30s, was a military veteran, cop and retired MMA fighter, at which point I said, make sure he knows that you had no idea he existed!  And also please make sure he doesn’t know I exist because that is an aggressive pro-Trump triple crown.

Eventually I got home at 140pm that day and was greeted by Cookie with the usual smattering of whimpers and tail wags.  Unlike 2013, however, despite an even better performance this time, I am guessing this is my Last of the Mohegan.  Head to the calendar to get tickets to our NJ and NYC shows this Fall.

Man vs Manners Blog

Man vs Manners

Manners maketh man, the old proverb goes (it predates the 2014 film Kinsgmen, apparently).  If that is the case, then I would like to introduce my own observation on current society: lack of manners maketh shit.  Many people have scapegoated the pandemic as this all inclusive excuse for people becoming increasingly incapable of common courtesy or behaving in public, but I think we have been heading this way for a lot longer (I believe the cell phone and Donald Trump were like steroids for indulging or permitting our worst instincts, and dulling our collective consciousness. The pandemic was more like the oven that allowed those awful ingredients to bake).  Because of my resolution to resume writing my blog at least once a week and, more importantly, because the topic this week feels like it is taking years off of my life, I decided to write on our epidemic of diminishing courtesy.  And yes, seeing a man in a sleeveless t-shirt at a Broadway show was probably my last straw.

My older nephew is autistic and since being accepted into a special boarding school I have seen an improvement in his communication, his eye contact and his behavior in the relatively limited time I see him.  And as an uncle I am happy for my nephew and the rest of my brother’s family that their difficult, but necessary decision to send him away appears to be bearing fruit. But the comedian in me had to ask, “what world are the preparing him for?”  Eye contact?  Asking people about their day? Behaving well in public?  Sorry, is my nephew preparing to time travel back to 1958 (hopefully a progressive woke part of the country as he is Black)?  Staring at a screen and mediocre interpersonal skills are the norm today. Eye contact will only make him stand out as odd!”

Because this is a topic I could probably write and Encyclopedia Britannica on, I will focus on just a few areas that I think embody how and why we are losing our courtesy.

Attire

I am both unfashionable and do not care about fashion.  I have found in my life, that when I am fit, a t shirt and jeans look good and a suit looks better.  But I believe flip flops are for the beach, tank tops are for the gym and crocs are for the fiery depths of hell.  When I see a man in a sleeveless t-shirt at a Broadway show, it cannot be surprising that the interrupting ring of a cell phone will follow (not necessarily from the shirtless, but from the generally permissive space that the theater has become).  I have a friend who works at the Comedy Magic Castle in LA, a swanky, members only, jacket and tie establishment. It is sort of a Heaven on Earth in that, everyone has to dress nicely, the food, drinks and entertainment are good and there are no cell phone pics or videos permitted.  But he has told me stories of men coming in sweatpants or expensive jeans or shirts and explaining that the cost of their clothes should make up for the lack of compliance with the wardrobe.  As Countess Luann said in her infamous song, which I had the pleasure of hearing in one of the only Real Housewives of New York episodes I have seen, money can’t buy you class.  Perhaps a Real Housewife is not the ideal messenger, but the message is valid nonetheless.

Venue and occasion-appropriate clothes convey a level of respect, not just for yourself, but for your surroundings.  I’ll admit I think this has been the area that I will complain about most directly attributable to the pandemic-work-from-home culture shift.  But it feels as though in the age of sweatpants to the restaurant-bathrobe to zoom work-suit to make Tik Tok dance videos, we have lost where to prioritize dignified dress.  And to be clear, this is not a classist argument. I am not asking that the impoverished man or woman dress above their means. But when you show up to a $200 play with $60 crocs, I am judging.  Because, while in and of itself, it is “harmless,” the tone it perpetuates concludes with show-interrupting cell phones.

Manners

Speaking of “harmless,” there is no phrase that I think has done more harm to day-to-day courtesy than “what’s the big deal if I’m not hurting anyone?”  Pain, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.  On public transit, it increasingly appears that instead of “the world is my oyster,” the phrase now should be “the world is my footrest.”  Look on a Metro North train in the winter – salt and snow on feet is clearly not an inhibitor of using another seat as a footrest.  And when did the phrase “excuse me” become extinct.  The amount of times I have seen and experienced someone exasperated with the slow pace of someone unknowingly blocking their path and rather than say “excuse me” they will huff, puff or in the case of weirdos, slither past the person like they are passing tripwire lasers in a re-enactment of Entrapment.  Obviously I would love to link this to one of my pet peeves, parents of newer generations letting their children call adults by their first names, but I have no data, other than my disgust at it.  “You’re welcome” has been replaced by “no problem,” which Brendan Gleeson dispatches with brilliantly in the first season of the great Peacock (formerly Direct TV) series Mr. Mercedes (one of my favorite Stephen King adaptations of all time). Unlike my uncle and mom, I don’t really have a problem with “no problem,” but it seems to speak to younger people’s seeming discomfort with anything formal.

And then there is the loss of even common pleasantries.  The other day I was in the supermarket and I am always one for idle chit chat, but I can also read a room.  I can have a long conversation with the woman who once colorfully asked me about my pasture-raised, organic eggs, “why the fu*k ate these so expensive – ooops sorry for that.” I also know when a mere hello or hi as a *gulp* courtesy will be all that is welcome. On the day I am referencing, I began to put my dozen items on the conveyer belt and said, “hello.”  No response. Employee looked up from their phone, began scanning the items and then handed me a receipt.  It is when it feels like it takes more energy not to say hello back that I wonder, “WTF?”

And I do believe there is a generational divide when it comes to common courtesy.  When I lived in NYC, I said hello to all my neighbors and 96% of them said it back!  As comedian Gary Gulman spoke of during his special The Great Depresh, nice little interactions with people release serotonin, a hormone that can decrease depression. One time, having lunch with Gulman, I mused, “but when I have all these rude interactions they must have the opposite effect.”  I see a direct proportion to people’s comfort with everyday interactions and their common courtesy to their age. Of course this is neither scientific, nor is it 100 percent correlated, but I have too much anecdotal experience to ignore what I have experienced.

I used to complain about people not saying thank you when you held the door for them, but now I am lucky to get eye contact from a neighbor walking down the hall.  Perhaps this is the perfect storm of cool parents, I’m not hurting anyone laissez-faire values and a resentment of formality and perhaps the inadvertent intimacy thanking someone genuinely or accepting that thanks genuinely, but I think one thing above all has hastened our demise into a courtesy free society.

Devices

When I say devices, I am really only referencing the “smart” phone, though i did see a man looking at his iPad during a movie yesterday, so we may have someone pushing the boundaries of rudeness to the next frontier. Stay tuned!  If the Bible were written for the first time today, the serpent wouldn’t tempt Eve with an apple. He would present her with an iPhone. The smart phone has, through a combination of corporate and psychological intentionality, unleashed the absolute worst impulses in humanity. It literally creates a society of naval gazing.  I believe most problems involving lack of manners and courtesy have been uncovered, augmented or created by the smart phone.  Walking while texting, driving while texting, forcing the world to be part of your amateur films and the abandonment of headphones while listening to music are all bad developments for society and the last gasps of manners.  Earphones and ear buds are readily available. But the culture around the cell phone of navel gazing, self-importance and disproportionate access and power from a device in your hands made listening to shows and music and forcing them on others almost an inevitability.  When no amount of announcements and signs can lead to a cell hone free Broadway show it is clear we are no longer collectively in control of our phones.

A brief message of hope – I will give this to the animals that inhabit Phish shows (I kid my Phish show brethren rom my 2 shows I have attended): I have not seen that small a number of smart phones out at a concert since before there were smart phones. In all their dirty glee, the Phish Phans were still able to prioritize being in the moment and enjoying the show, rather than trying to memorialize it like a well-trained cell phone slave.  Much like Rhianna, I found love in a hopeless place when I saw hope for society at a Phish show.  But then you merely have to walk into a cafe, a store or anywhere and see that parents are allowing tablets and phones to be adjunct babysitters. If we, who at least were able to form ourselves without cell phones, have become pathetic tools, how can a generation raised on them not come out worse?

In the aforementioned supermarket I have seen a manager informing cashiers not to have their cell phones out while actively working. The tech marvel of cell phones has empowered bad instincts and created bad impulses as our society furthers the message that in person social interaction is unnecessary and courtesy completely irrelevant. And then we wonder why depression is up – perhaps because the thing we use so much is destroying some of the things that have made generations and generations of humans feel good.  Small talk, eye contact, flirting, pleasantries, courtesy, awareness of others, sympathy, empathy, interaction – I think the cell phone has not lessened our need for these things. It has simply made us worse at them while, in a self-serving manner, convincing us we don’t need those things anymore.  Though not cell phone related, I think my former co-worker who was frequently pissed off that our job required in person work after the pandemic, demonstrated the catch-22 of all of this perfectly when he recently lamented to me that his new fully-remote job would “have him all alone.”  Technological convenience blinds us to the harm until we are already harmed.  And all I am asking is that we remember to say please and thank you and to look where we are walking!

Trump

I had to include him because he has set a tone that has clearly influenced large swaths of the population. He cleverly (or more likely instinctively because he is more animal than man) cultivated a norm where being offended by something was “woke” and “politically correct,” even when the thing is actually deeply offensive.  Morgan Wallen gets caught Hard R-ing the N word?  Well, that’s just wokeness – let’s push his album to #1.  Being decent is actually being a pussy. Not wanting to offend people is never the right answer, so we begin seeing comedy that is more focused on triggering emotions than triggering laughs.  And the racism?  I can just say that since 2015, members of my family have experienced direct racism more than I recall hearing the previous 36 years of my life.  He has emboldened the worst in a lot of people and has created a culture where not giving in to your cruelties and your base instincts is somehow weak or *GASP* “liberal.”

Whether an erosion of courtesy came first or resulted from many of the things above, it is irrelevant now because these things are happening and I see no reason to be optimistic of us improving.  I am sometimes dismayed when I see how much time my nephew spends on his phone, not because I would have been better than him if I had a cell phone in my teenage years, but because of the stories, experiences and memories I have from not being buried in a phone in my formative years.  There are so many ways to scold what we have become (you just read it) because of diminishing manners, more controlling technology and horrible leadership examples. But perhaps the best way forward is for the people who know a life before all of this to share why courtesy and all its accompanying behaviors were and are good. Because the truth is, in 30 years I would hate for my nephew to be writing something about “how much better society was when all we did was stare at screens and said ‘no problem’ when someone gave you something.” Because that might mean his and our future became a Hell not even fit for Crocs.

Kid Rock IS The Republican Party Blog

Kid Rock IS The Republican Party

This week’s blog was supposed to be about the erosion of etiquette at the theatre and how that spells so much more doom for society.  That can wait until next week.  This week, due to both inspiration and time crunch, I will be writing about the man that I think best embodies the Republican Party more than any human alive.  That man is Robert James Ritchie, AKA Kid Rock (there will be no pictures of Kid Rock due to me being scared off of using copyright-protected photos – podcast listeners know to what I refer – so pictures of my dog Cookie, who is dirty blonde and was found abandoned in a Kentucky trailer park, will have to act as stand-ins – the pic to the left is Cookie with her Donald Trump chew toy).

Now full disclosure – I am not one of these people who just reflexively dismisses Kid Rock like a progressive hack.  I own several of his albums and to this day will defend his breakout album, Devil without a Cause, as a great album (and Rolling Stone picked him as their 1999 male artist of the year for that album).  But given multiple decades to absorb the man’s place in our culture, mostly against my will, I have come to see him as much more than a top tier artist of the 90s-2000s rap-rock hybrid era (Linkin Park as the best and most unscathed member of this genre).  I now see him as the embodiment of the modern GOP.

“American Badass”

One hallmark of Kid Rock’s persona is a brash, flag waving patriotism that would come across as sacrilegious to anyone with a brain.  Rock’s patriotism is the “How dare Colin Kaepernick kneel for the anthem – now watch two strippers twerk while I throw up middle fingers with the American flag in the background because AMERICA!”  Like the thousands of mostly white dudes across American sports arenas who scream, shout and stuff hot dogs down their throats as the anthem plays, but will condemn anyone who doesn’t show proper respect (especially if they look different than them), Rock is the ultimate do as I say and not as I do patriot.

“Black Chick, White Guy”

Taylor Swift used country music as her path of least resistance in the musical world and then slowly, but surely, turned herself into a pop music megastar (I, for one, appreciate her honesty in making the full transition to pop, versus a lot of what passes as country music today, pop music with a little twang and a lot of fear of leaving the warm bosom of country music). Rock took a more conventional American path to music stardom – he immersed himself in Black art, rap to be specific, but like a stand up comedian failing to generate likes, he retreated into aggressive whiteness after his career regressed to the mean, after initial success (a song about an interracial relationship where he drops the N word might have been a harbinger of things to come – though artistically defensible when you hear the song, it becomes even more uncomfortable when the man becomes a Trump supporter who says things like “Fu*k Oprah” (disliking or disagreeing with Oprah is obviously not a crime or racist, but it certainly doesn’t look or sound great when factoring the totality of the Kid Rock circumstances)).  But the point of this is using Black art/culture/proximity as a shield, but then denigrating Black people and supporting racist politicians when not appearing racist is no longer useful, is very GOP.

“I’m a Cowboy Baby!”

(Don’t even try to tell me this is not a good song)  From what I have read Kid Rock grew up a well off suburban kid and has grown into a very rich adult.  But his image is clearly as a man of the trailer park-oxy abusing people!  From the stringy hair, the ratty mustache and the fur coat-wife beater couture, he is clearly cultivating an unemployed-just won a scratch off-working man-without a real job persona.  And is there anything more Republican than pretending to be one of the people?  From Reagan’s actor-politician who hates Hollywood and Washington, DC to George W. Bush’s Connecticut Cowboy to Donald Trump’s deep contempt for his own voters, but willingness to be their “retribution,” the modern GOP is one big cosplay act.  Only H.W. Bush seemed to be true to the fancy pants that he was in real life and he got voted out after one term.

“Only God Knows Why”

This song is a damn masterpiece. I know it is, because a friend of mine in college, who hated Kid Rock, was deeply distressed when he found out the song he liked was, in fact, a very off brand, auto-tuned ballad by Kid Rock.

If ever there could be an anthem for the modern, Trump GOP, I think it would be Only God Knows Why.  The lyrics that most reflect this are as follows:

I said it too many times and I still stand firmYou get what you put inAnd people get what they deserve
Still I ain’t seen mineNo, I ain’t seen mineI’ve been givin’, just ain’t been gettin’I’ve been walkin’ that there line
So I think I’ll keep a walkin’With my head held highI’ll keep movin’ onAnd only God knows why
The inherent contradiction in these lines, though poetically frustrating, are also the perfect embodiment of the modern GOP’s hypocrisy.  I believe with all my heart that hard work and personal responsibility pay off, BUT IT IS  NOT WORKING FOR ME!  Well which is it?  Is it personal responsibility for everyone, or is it others who are not working hard, but for folks like Kid Rock, it is actually an unjust tragedy that his hard work is not paying off?  If not for his politics and generally offensive nature, I would say the song is a laudable lament of a world that seems to contradict the values it espouses.  But knowing now who Kid Rock is, it sounds more like hypocritical bitching and is there any better way to describe the modern GOP than hypocritical bitches?