Spectator Life

Here we go again. Every year, with the inevitability of death, taxes and political regicide, the BBC’s Eurovision coverage reminds viewers that most pop music produced in European countries is of a terrible standard, and that the UK’s banal offering is never going to inspire any patriotic fervor. This year, British hopes are pinned on an electropop act called Look Mum No Computer, with a truly terrible sub-Depeche Mode song called "Eins Zwei Drei" that contains the lyrics "Counting in English doesn’t cut the mustard / So sick of munching roly-poly with custard." Don’t call me Cassandra, but I suspect that Look Mum No Computer (real name: Sam Battle) will be receiving rather fewer than drei punkte from many of the international judges.

“Whitney Cummings, it is time for you to roast the year,” Andy Cohen said Tuesday night, an invitation he would perhaps go on to regret. Cohen and Anderson Cooper let Cummings loose on 2024 as part of CNN's New Year's Eve coverage. Cummings quickly breezed through a laundry list of controversial and touchy jokes in four or so minutes on live TV. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-IL-p-fKS08&ab_channel=WhitneyCummings She addressed “our” wistful obsession with murderers (the Menendez brothers, Gypsy Rose Blanchard, Luigi Mangione), the increased sale of baby oil, Hunter Biden's laptop, white supremacy in relation to Ariana Grande, cryptocurrency as "astrology for men" and the drones in New Jersey that the government surely knows about...

Every time Bill Maher goes viral for being a "non-woke" liberal, the conservative pundit class is eager to remind readers that Maher is not one of them. It’s a pedantic and pointless exercise, because Maher has never claimed to be.  Case in point, earlier this month, National Review published another piece in a long trilogy of tired conservative columns bitching about Maher acting as some sort of “leftist agent” because he “has always made his bed with the mainstream.” “As entertainment,” wrote culture critic Armond White, “Real Time has a limited audience of HBO subscribers, yet its clips serve as a crutch for conservative TV programs — those outlets too feckless to generate their own talking points but that are always following the lead of left-wing media.

The news that comedian Shane Gillis is walking back into 30 Rock to host Saturday Night Live this month isn’t just a great moment for comedy or a testament to how much America loves a comeback story. It’s also a definitive moment in the history of cancel culture — a live representation on national television of how much the media’s power to achieve personal destruction has diminished. Gillis was by no means a famous comedian when he was chosen for the SNL cast five years ago, but the media (aided by some jealous comics) did successfully make him infamous within the space of a week. The story is familiar to everyone by now, but rather than hang his head and walk away from comedy, Gillis battled back by being really, really outrageously funny.

The Toad's Morale, Sam Tallent's stand-up comedy special, gives you the answer to the question: what if a genius-level writer decided to devote himself thoroughly to writing jokes on the subjects of sex, death and bodily fluids? Distributed on comedian Shane Gillis's YouTube channel — another giant phenomenon and also in the top tier of best podcast guests who could also play offensive tackles — Tallent's special showcases his capability for timing and rhythm. His jokes have a tempo that seems natural and relaxed in the moment, but is clearly intentional, effortless on the surface but disguising the skill of the construction under a thick layer of blue.  https://youtu.be/0eIUA1jfEk0?

With all the focus on Russell Brand, it’s easy to forget that another comedian made headlines — for all the wrong reasons — last week. Two days before the world came crashing down on Brand, the New Yorker’s Clare Malone wrote a devastating piece on Hasan Minhaj.  Minhaj, according to the brilliant expose, has a history of fabricating narratives. What’s particularly disturbing is that his tall tales all appear to have a unifying theme: race. More specifically, racism directed towards him, an Asian American and Muslim American, and his loved ones. Much of the New Yorker piece focuses on Minhaj’s 2022 Netflix standup special, The King’s Jester, which was marketed as a biographical account of his formative years.