I’m not a White House correspondent, but I sometimes play one, watching television. And so I checked out Stephen Colbert’s performance at the correspondents’ dinner via the thousands of web-streaming sites hosting it these last few days, and guess what? I thought it was pretty funny. Not stop-stop-my-sides-are-hurting funny, but you know — chuckle-worthy. Now I’m checking out Act II — the reaction. Which is pretty typical. It wasn’t complete, however, until someone wrote the inevitable “I didn’t laugh because I was offended, I didn’t laugh because it wasn’t funny” piece:
Safely delivered all in the stentorian, arrogant voice of Mr. Colbert’s late-night Bill O’Reilly knockoff persona, the material came off as shrill and airless, with little time or space left for jokes to sink in and seduce the listener before the next round of hectoring began.
Who knew White House correspondents were such practiced critics of comedy? “Shrill and airless.” I’ll have to keep that one in my pocket.
Good column in the Freep yesterday, about the contemporary phenomenon of the urban funeral:
Two weeks ago, my son and I were caught in a mile-long traffic jam in Detroit. Young people were hanging out of Cadillac Escalade windows cheering wildly, speakers blaring. Was it a parade? A spring celebration in Palmer Park? No, it wasn’t a party or a picnic. It was the funeral procession of rapper Proof, born Deshaun Holton. …”Young people just don’t have the respect for death that their elders had,” (a funeral director) said. “I’ve even heard of there being shootings at funerals — they shoot up the casket, too.”
One more reason the police beat is the best one at the paper.
Oops, almost forgot to add this: Go ahead, lick that doorknob, or everything you wanted to know about germs. Thanks, Reuters!