An email reply some might find interesting...

(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.)