Predictably enough, shit got a little too auto-bioey for me and I made myself uncomfortable. Let's backpedal a little on that, OK? Here, read this funny comic strip:
(K. Beaton, click to enlarge)*
I actually do treat comedy as art, by which I guess I just mean I think of it that way. I mean, Andy Kaufman? Are you kidding me? But I'm talking about the more "regular" stand-up, too. Like last night I watched the first two episodes of Louie, Louis C.K.'s new show—and maybe I was a little out of it, but I thought the show was excellent.† Part of what I like about that guy is that his stand-up transcends yuks, but what's key is that it transcends them through them; does that make any sense? I mean, you can transcend something by leaving it behind, or you can use it as your spaceship and never set foot outside of it but take it somewhere amazing. I think that's true of Sarah Silverman, too: I'm a big champion of Sarah Silverman as Very Good.‡
Last night I also went to see this thing at the Silent—I don't know this sort of thing is common or not, but either way it's awesome—where they screened television pilots that hadn't been picked up. So I got to see H.U.D., a secret-agent comedy starring Steve Carrell (before he "popped") and written by David Zucker and Seinfeld and SNL's Steve Koren; North Hollywood, the Judd Apatow struggling-actor comedy starring Jason Segel, Kevin Hart, Amy Poehler, January Jones, and Judge Reinhold as himself; and Ben Stiller's legendary Heat Vision & Jack, which you need to look up immediately, a Knight Rider-ish comedy starring Jack Black as an astronaut who has become the smartest man alive as the result of "inappropriate" levels of solar radiation and is being pursued by the evil, superhuman NASA agent Ron Silver (as himself) while solving mysteries with the help of a motorcycle with the brain of his former roommate (voiced by Owen Wilson)—I mean, holy shit. Heat Vision & Jack was my favorite, North Hollywood was pretty great, and H.U.D. had some brilliant moments (like when Steve Carrell's character thinks the Swiss are the bad guys, his partner reminds him that they're neutral, and he says, "Neutral like a fox").
As for January Jones—listen, January, I'd love to go out with you for a while, but you've got to understand that in the end I'm going to marry Lizzy Caplan. You're beautiful and adorable and amazing, but we just don't have the same connection I have with Lizzy. You can't control these things, babe. I wish you all the best.
P.S. The Internet is evil. Everybody smash your computers.
* I wish I could find a postable image of the fantastic Daniel Clowes Eightball comic about the judgmental artist—I mean, I haven't looked very hard. If I ever get a scanner again, I'll put it up (and Headfoot will become like 100 times more interesting). Here, though, at least, is a panel from Clowes' [huh?—yes, but my own rule is euphony] amazing thing about how sports are almost all homoerotic.
† A much better realization of the guy's amazing stand-up than the HBO series Lucky Louie (which I liked more than some people did—the first episode was pretty amazing).
‡ What am I, the Tao of Pooh all of a sudden?