What You Are Laughing At

Monday, May 23, 2005

Comforthing

So... James Wolcott wrote, in the most recent issue of Vanity Fair (the one with the stars of Dyspeptic Barmaids on it), about Stand-up Comedy being dead, and there being no edge left to it.

The blog-unfindable Lizzy first alerted my sector of the world to this article, so I fig'red it would be a good read. I found a copy of VF at the sto', but wasn't going to drop $4.50 when all I wanted was about 12 pages of the magazine. You know you're a maturing male when the articles are more interesting. I have an imagination, thank you, and whatever Teri Hatcher's doing to Marcia Cross with that Kitchen Aid mixer and a stomach pump whilst both don firefighter's overalls and little else, well, it idn't yer garsh dern bidnoose.

I miss my friend's blogs.

I found Wolcott's article on-line, and am preparing to read it as I type this. The first quote in the article is from Garry Shandling, saying how Johnny Carson, God rest his soul, was the first person Shandling ever craved the approval of. I can understand that. It has to get edgier for references, I hope. Garry Shandling?

Wolcott lives in Manhattan, and is a book, TV, movie, and general pop culture critic, while doubling duty as a moderate weirdouche. He has 3 cats, and appears to have written a poof-piece about a the dating scene in Manhattan that rips of Jane Austen, "The Catsitters." For the love of Street Jokes, the guy writes for VANITY FAIR. I sense that most of Britney's videos illicited a change in heart rate for Wolcott. I'll find out more after I read his stuff.

Review of reviewer to be released as soon as time, packing, and my being on hiatus allows.


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