It's getting plush in herre.



The Bros. Chap...is there anything they can't do?

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In a recent interview with Time (why is Time interviewing this guy? Let FOX hawk their own garbage), human squawkbox Bill O'Reilly said, "I maybe a handful of times told somebody directly to shut up. And that's when they were being dishonest or offensive." Read this article in Slate and see if you agree.



What a cartoon; why isn't he doing his rant perched on a stool at the local bar, and leaving the rest of us alone? "Yeah, Bill, the French are idiots...you said that yesterday..." "Shut up and get me another beer!" "How's things at the seminary, Bill?" "Ahh, these young guys, they don't know God..."

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I don't follow the whole downloading-music debate very closely, but I found this response to it very encouraging. It's a record company which allows you to "try before you buy." And it gives 50% of the purchase price to the musicians. Those of you who enjoy music more recent than disco (I generally don't), check it out.



Thanks to self-publishing and online bookstores, big publishing is on its way out; big music could be starting its death-spiral, too. Clearly their time is over--it's only a question as to whether they will go slowly, scratching and clawing and litigating and trying to buy favorable legislation, or wise up and start figuring out how to make money with a new model. Since they can't control the production of books/music/film, look for them to control the distribution. I don't usually pay attention to the cyber-cowboys who make pronouncements like "Big media is dead," but if we can keep the internet reliable and free, it's only a matter of time.

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Over the course of many emails, the conversation about Simpsons Godhead George Meyer morphed a bit, but in an interesting way. Recalling that what started this all was a profile of Meyer in The New Yorker, Jon Schwarz wrote:



“I agree with Mike about George Meyer. [Thanks, Jon!--MG] It's not that we want to condemn him -- it's just interesting that someone so smart would talk about hating advertising so much that he considers it 'a global force of destruction,' yet not have an immediate follow up comment about how he reconciles working in network television. If advertising's a force of destruction, well, Meyer's profiting enormously from that destruction. There's no other way to put it. It's like someone who spends all their lives trying to get people to look at billboards saying that he loathes billboards. So it's kind of fascinating that he didn't go into it further.



But there's even more to it than that. Personally (here I think I'd part ways with Mike) I find it even more interesting that the guy who wrote the article didn't immediately follow up on this with Meyer when Meyer didn't himself. And it's more interesting still to me that whoever edited it didn't flag that section and send the author back to delve into it more deeply.”



You're right, Jon--I do find the complex rationales of George Meyer the person, more interesting than an editing snafu at The New Yorker, but that's because I'm cynical about the magazine business in general, and that magazine in particular.



For his part, Ed very charitably replied:

“I assume they're oversights. I certainly hope they aren't evidence of a secret New Yorker agenda, or something spooky like that. In the case of the Meyer Profile, maybe the writer, David Owen, who is a good friend of his subject -- he was Meyer's roommate at Harvard and was a contributor to [Meyer's short-lived and extremely influential magazine] Army Man -- was afraid of embarrassing Meyer...Maybe one of you can get Owen on the horn and ask him.”



Ah, Ed, you overestimate my Rolodex. David Owen can buy and sell nobodies like me. I’ve spoken with him—not about this—and while he was very nice, he’d have to be positively Christ-like not to get pissed at me for bugging him about it. It's only comedy. But as to The New Yorker’s agenda, Jon replied:



“Well, there's no SECRET New Yorker agenda. Instead, there's a non-secret NYer agenda -- they're trying to make money, and the people who work there are trying to keep on the good side of Si Newhouse. Think of it this way: the New Yorker has customers, and it has a product. Because of the way they price subscriptions (way, way, way below the cost of producing the magazine) their main customers are their advertisers, and their main product is their readers. And like any business, they tend not to do things that will piss off their largest customers. One thing advertisers don't really love is indepth discussions of whether or not advertising is a global force of destruction and the morality of making your living off it, so you tend not to find too much of that in the NYer. Writers and editors also tend not to do things that might make their billionaire boss angry. Is Newhouse friends with fellow billionaire Warren Buffet? Well, if I'm an editor or writer and I'm not 100%, completely sure, I probably won't run an article with nasty cracks about Buffet. Much better to be safe than sorry. This agenda plays itself out in subtle ways, ways that I suspect aren't always conscious...”



Yes (MG again), and that's why we as readers can't let institutions, even good ones like The New Yorker--which even in my most anti-Shouts and Murmurs rages, I consider to be vastly more positive than negative--rest on their laurels. Please, no more profiles of Thurber, or discussions of John O'Hara by John Updike. Self-criticism is useful, self-praise is not, but self-absorption is the most useless thing of all.



Continuing this thought in another email, Jon wrote: “I know Ian Frazier a little bit. Right after I'd gotten out of college I had a conversation with him where he said (in reference to the NYer specifically) 'institutions will always, always fail you.' He said the only institution that he really liked was the New York Public Library.”



I’d just like to interject that I think Ian Frazier is one hell of a writer, and a real mensch. Buy his books and send him positive mental energies. It's worth also noting that he said this to Jon during the Tina Brown regime, during which he was somewhat estranged from the magazine. Anyway, Jon continued, “At the time I didn't really understand what he meant. In fact, it sort of upset me. After all, I wanted to be scooped up by these institutions.



But now I think Ian Frazier was completely right. It's just the nature of institutions, whether they're magazines or countries. You're very lucky to get one generation of great people, and even luckier to get two.



Look at the New Yorker:

1st generation: Harold Ross (I highly recommend the biography Genius in Disguise if

you haven't read it.)

2nd generation: William Shawn

Later generation: Tina Brown



Or America:

1st generation: Thomas Jefferson

2nd generation: James Madison

Later generation: George W. Bush



That's why, when you meet the Buddha, you must kill him. And then cook

and eat his entrails."



And on that note, I'm going to lunch.

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My pal Dave Hanson, ex-Executive Editor of National Lampoon, has just published his first novel. It's called "Last Leg," and I remember reading an early, funny draft, so I bet it's just great. Check it out at iUniverse.



Viva la print-on-demand revolucion!

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(Folks, the following is in response to some questions written to me by my friend Ed Page, who works for the humor site The Big Jewel. I thought other people might think they were interesting--or at least food for thought--so I asked Ed if I could post them here.)



You asked why Doug Kenney, co-founder of National Lampoon, is interesting. Well, he's interesting to ME for a number of reasons: the first is that I share a lot of his background--Midwestern bourgeois, to be incredibly blunt about it--and so his outlook has always resonated with me more than say, Henry Beard's [Henry being the other founder of NatLamp.--MG]. That's not to denigrate Beard, you understand; the Lampoon probably would've folded in 1971 if it weren't for Henry, and I think Henry, as much as Michael O'Donoghue or Doug is responsible for the incredible breadth and precision of the magazine. That's what made NatLamp special, as much as the individual pieces/writers, which is why I disagree with Henry's later statement that "all of our old NatLamp pieces should've been books." I see where he's coming from in a commercial, post-Peter Workman, humor-books-as-quickie-gifts way, but have to disagree artistically--and perhaps it wouldn't've even worked commercially. Parodies are just now re-emerging from their early-80s glut (thank God, says the author of Barry Trotter).



Along with him being a middle-class Midwesterner (he was from Ohio, I'm from Missouri/Illinois), Doug also dealt with the mindbending experience of coming from that to the Ivy Leagues, and while that was doubtless harder and weirder in 1964 than in 1987, I do sense that outsiderness in his stuff, too. I think that's what makes Doug's stuff so accessible, even now. He's not the smartest guy in the room like Henry (though he was damned smart) or the bitchiest like MO'D (though I'm sure Doug could be a shit) but an extremely smart version of a regular person.



Strictly artistically, Doug's interesting because, in the words of Henry Beard, "I was the last of a certain breed, and Doug was the first of the new breed." Which I take to mean that Henry was the last of the print-centric, Thurber/Perelman/NYer wits, and Doug the first of this multi-media, outrageous, Hollywood-philic Harvard boys. And of course, Doug had an uncanny sense of his generation--nostalgia was in the air from about 1969 on (Trudeau was doing it at the Yale Record, fascinating to see his take, along with NatLamp's a few years later) but Doug was the most successful of them all at commodifying and universalizing it--in the Yearbook parody, and Animal House.



So, in my eyes at least, Doug was the first, and best, of the kind of comedy writer that's very thick on the ground these days: the over-intelligent eternal adolescent. Which brings me to The Simpsons' legendary George Meyer, whom you compared to Doug. In my opinion, I think there are vast differences between the two (neither of whom I have met, I'm just shooting from the hip as if they were, say, Katz's Delicatessan pastrami versus the Carnegie Deli's brand)--no Kenney, and Meyer would be Ian Frazier, writing exquisite humor occasionally for the New Yorker and wonderful novels--no small career, but in my opinion Kenney was a trailblazer in a way that Meyer might've been (I dunno, I wonder if he would've been accessible enough), but for no failing of his own, didn't have to be. Kenney started NatLamp; created Animal House; then died. NatLamp begat SNL; SNL begat the Harvard Lampoon comedy mafia. Meyer went from Harvard to SNL to Letterman to The Simpsons--once he got on the path, it was clear where he'd go. Once again, no reflection on Meyer's ability, but he walks a path blazed by others.



You mentioned that Dennis Perrin (author of Mr. Mike, a biography of Michael O'Donoghue) found my comment about the perceived incongruity of Meyer's hating advertising and using his talent to deliver eyeballs to it, a bit unfair. That may be so, but it's only because I think so highly of comedy writing in general and Meyer in particular that I hold him to such a high standard of "mindfulness." I won't quote Dennis, because I haven't asked his permission to do so, but I think it's fair to say that Dennis told you, essentially: that's a lot of money to walk away from just 'cause you don't like advertising, and furthermore, what would be the point? Ads would still exist, and you wouldn't have that sweet gig at The Simpsons.



Well, see, now, this is where I expose myself as a freak. First of all, people are always calling George Meyer a genius. He may well be--and whether he is or not, it's certainly not his fault that people lay that label on him--but in my opinion I don't think doing something any college grad could learn to do (write TV comedy), even if you do it fantastically well, makes somebody a genius. It may make you really smart, or really driven, or really funny, all of which Meyer obviously is, but it doesn't make you a genius in my book. Comic geniuses transform what comedy is, and The Simpsons, pace everybody's love of the show, really doesn't do that. The genius of The Simpsons is the form:   a sitcom that uses the freedom of cartoons. Meyer does beautiful work within that form, but in my opinion he's no more a genius than, say, Larry Gelbart. Which means, Meyer's probably the best comedy writer of his generation..but not a transforming genius. Geniuses, in comedy or anything else, are rarely in perfect tune with their times--Spike Milligan, for example; or Peter Cook, or Lenny Bruce. None of them was pliable enough for TV, which should tell you something. And none of them were ever quite content, which should tell you another. The people that show biz celebrates are infrequently genius-caliber. They're usually very brilliant and somewhat pliable. Genius is surprising, unruly, difficult--that's what makes it genius and not simply incredible skill.



So for me, one of the ways I tell Meyer's not a Milligan/Cook/Bruce-level genius is by his apparent ability to do his art (if you'll allow me that word) in the service of something he says he despises. In his email, Dennis compares Meyer to other Hollywood writers, saying that he's not as craven as that. Well, I should hope not! But all that says is, within the world of writers absolutely addled by large amounts of money (and God bless them for getting it!), Meyer is smart enough to understand that money isn't everything. Obviously, he's right.



I told you I was going to expose myself as a freak, so here goes: particularly with people of incredible talent, which George Meyer obviously has, it is reasonable to ask: will you lead? Leading is what makes a genius--and geniuses often can't HELP but lead, whether or not they'd be comfortable doing it. Spike Milligan couldn't HELP but break new ground--and suffered for it. The other question that occurs to me regarding all this, and one that we mere mortals can relate to a little better--and by mortals I mean both people who do not operate at Meyer or Kenney's level, or get paid like they do/did--how much is enough? What price do you put on your integrity? I haven't got that answer for anybody but myself, and I'm sure the price changes given the circumstances of somebody's life, and my answer will not be yours, or George Meyer's or Doug Kenney's. But the question cannot be avoided. What's the Biblical quote, "What does it profiteth a man if he gain the world but lose his very soul?" By recognizing advertising as the desire-causing evil that it is, George Meyer strikes me as somebody wise enough to ask himself that other question, "How much is my integrity worth?"



Kenney couldn't answer it. That's why he jumped off a cliff. He was young and rich, and people thought that meant he didn't need help or direction--or that he was powerful enough to thwart anybody who might've tried to help. He lost his way, and it's a goddamn shame, because everything I know about him makes me think that the person in there was so much more worthwhile than the "comic genius" or the budding mogul. $30 million (or something) by age 34 wasn't enough for Kenney; perhaps he felt he'd already sold his integrity, and too cheaply. I hope George Meyer--for his sake--has a happier ending, but the question cannot be avoided, or bought off; none of us can live divided against ourselves for long.



Your other email offers an interesting insight into the nature of fandom, something that I occasionally glimpse in my own life: you don't want George Meyer to ever stop cranking out the jokes, regardless of what that means for him personally. A fan's interest is in the next laugh--but the creator's interest has to be different, their own obsessions, development, and perhaps sanity. Especially if somebody's a genius. I love The Simpsons, but if another really funny season of that show, means that George Meyer jumps off a cliff in Hawaii, I'll take the happiness of the man over the happiness of the fans. I guess I must not be that huge a fan of The Simpsons! :-)



(Thus endeth the sermon. Apologies to anybody who found this boring or presumptuous; I use such examinations of people to determine my own course in Life, not to prescribe theirs.)

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I never realized how much I liked George Plimpton, until I read this obituary in The New York Times.

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...by friend Mollie Wilson is here.

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Slowly but surely, friends of mine enter the blogosphere and other parts of the Web: Kate's ex-Jellyvision colleague Jason Meyer has a lovely blog up and running called Five O'Clock Rock. And the humor site The Big Jewel has pieces by Michael Pershan and Mollie Wilson.



Having talented and amusing friends is one of Life's great joys, don't you think?

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In a collection of letters, former President Ronald Reagan claimed he felt sex was "tinged with evil." Puts a whole new spin on "Evil Empire," doesn't it?



The article's here.

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The Onion recently ran this interview with P.J. O'Rourke, timed (I suppose) to the recent rerelease of the National Lampoon High School Yearbook Parody, which PJ co-edited with Doug Kenney back in 1974.



While we're on the subject, and sorry to fulfill everybody's expectations by saying so ("Ahh, nobody knows how to do print humor anymore..." gripe gripe gripe), but the Yearbook repackaging is a huge botch. The original is selling for $100 a pop on eBay; all you had to do was reprint it exactly, maybe with a little introduction, or a little behind-the-scenes, or whatever. Or, even better, put it in hardcover (the original was on magazine-type paper stocks, and perfect-bound) but make it look like a genuine hardcover yearbook. But instead, they put it in hardcover, and fucked around with the design. The original was a masterpiece of form following the joke; the reprint looks like your standard 'yuk-yuk-yuk' humor book, done by people who either don't care or aren't very smart. And while we're on the topic: It speaks volumes--about the timidity of publishers, and perhaps the oversensitiveness of readers--that you can't show a bare ass on a cover anymore. That was a great, punchy joke, and the cheerleader's bare ass was the punchline. A joke without a punchline is worthless and confusing--and that decision suggests that whoever was behind this clearly didn't understand what they were doing. So Wal-Mart won't stock it; that's publicity, Franken-style. The book could immediately raise the issue of how uptight the once rascally Baby Boomers have gotten--that's a bad thing?



The thing about National Lampoon after 1975 wasn't that it deteriorated. There was plenty of funny stuff in it for decades. It's that whoever was in charge lacked the intellectual rigor to do it right, or get people who would, and let them do their thing. Even the blurred and asinine Lampoon made some money, but they could've made so much more. It's like trading store coupons in for their cash value.



Not much to say about the interview; I found it interesting that PJ didn't mention Doug Kenney's name once--s'pose he's tired of all the "genius" talk, and after 25 years who could blame him? Whatever else one thinks of PJ's stuff, he survived where Doug didn't. There's no small value in that.



It seems that Michael O'Donoghue, and not Kenney, is the name that's remembered by young comedy writers today. That's somewhat predictable, since Kenney never entered the TV racket, and the current point of reference and coin of the realm; O'Donoghue benefits from the reflected glory of early SNL. And also his Dark Prince persona appeals to a certain callow type of aspirant--he's a simple character, or appears to be, while Kenney ain't. I've been told that O'Donoghue was creatively out of gas by the time he left Lampoon (mid-74); whether that's true or not, there was certainly a kind of calcification that had set in. Anyway...this is like looking at old baseball cards...

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Folks, I'm flying back to Chicago today after an exhausting two and a half weeks here on the East Coast. I'll be updating the blog regularly starting Monday or so...

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Still in New Haven, tormenting the Humorists of Tomorrow, eating my body weight in hamburgers at Louis' Lunch...and enduring what my wife called "the oppressive sullenness" of everybody here who's not affiliated with Yale.



I'll be the first to own up: Yalies can be annoying, and sharing a city with them must be a trial; but the crackle of dislike is incredible. I'm not talking New York standoffishness--which, btw, can nearly always be melted with a genuine smile--but something more constant, queerly impersonal and at the same time very personal. They don't like you BECAUSE you're here. Even when you're buying stuff from them. Perhaps especially because you're buying stuff from them, hence have money to spend. It's puzzling, and uncomfortable, and encourages Yale's moat-and-padlock mindset.



Fewer and fewer Yalies are simply members of the Lucky Sperm Club--hi, W!--and more and more of them, in fact, are members of the same economic class as the guy working at the Dunkin Donuts on Chapel Street. Yet when somebody works their ass off to get a real chance to move on up, George Jefferson style, this cuts them no slack. I'm certainly not blaming anybody in this; it's too prevalent not to be the fruit of large forces nobody is controlling. But it's a freaking shame. A recent article described our current Clintonism vs. Neocon battle as beginning at Yale in the late Sixties, and I wouldn't be surprised if the unrelenting negativity in New Haven didn't help polarize that from the beginning. If you're rich and perceive people hating you for it, then you become dead to any sense of larger responsibility. If you're not rich and perceive people hating you anyway, you become desperate to prove what a man/woman of the people you are, whether that's a false pose or not. Sounds like a description of both sides to me.



Surprisingly, no sign of labor difficulties--no strikes, no picketing, nothing. Yale is in the middle of one of its periodic, hyper-nasty labor disputes--which may be some of the reason for said sullenness. Anyway, I hope they work it out soon; as always the people in the middle--the students and the strikers--are suffering while the bigwigs palaver.

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Sorry about the silence--like any of you noticed, you all lead scintillating lives, I'm sure (much more scintillating than mine, at least). I've been in New York, squiring my wife around to various hoity-toity restaurants, whose chefs have--good-naturedly--considered my many food allergies a challenge. Actually the reason I've been out East is to promote Barry Trotter and the Unnecessary Sequel, which is out now in the US and United Kingdom, and selling like hotcakes!



This very moment, I'm sitting in the dorm room of a young Yalie friend of mine; I'm once again haunting New Haven, helping the students reach ever greater heights at The Yale Record college humor magazine. Gotta run, but I'll check in soon!

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