Something the wonderful but (it’s said) terribly cranky Albert Brooks failed to mention in his otherwise downright clairvoyant novel '2030' is that, by then, everyone in the United States and Canada and much of northern Mexico will be a comedian. Not in that harried substitute teacher "I see everybody’s a comedian here" way, but in the working, struggling, publishing and flapping their arms professional Comedian with a capital ‘C’ way.
Already we can see this creeping reality on our futuristic flat screen TVs, where ‘Late Night’ keeps getting later with more and more talk, panel and sketch shows fronted by—yes—comedians. Comedians whose guests, sidekicks and producers are other comedians. As is tradition the band members (where the production budget allows for a band) are expected to be, if not hilarious, at least droll and given to pulling funny expressions and dropping well-timed rimshots. Even the audience members, god bless them, better be able to hold their own with a mic pushed into their face and a national audience gawking at them and they usually do because guess what? A significant portion of that audience is likely composed of comedians.
This observation is easy to make by one such as myself, aware as I am that I’m part of the problem.
I don’t think of myself as a comedian, certainly not with that capital ‘C’. Comedy is hard work and a harder life, and as a person born in the final years of the Eisenhower administration I have no delusions of late life fame nor desire to sleep in flea bitten motels while running my ass across the nation for pennies on the dollar. But like any Armchair Activist clicking their way to love, peace and understanding one $10 donation at a time, I can tell jokes on twitter. I can make ‘em laff or fall flat from the relative comfort of home and take my applause in the form of little gold stars and retweets and the social/professional status of those somehow impressed enough to follow me.
And there’s no line for the bathroom.
One of the first things I learned, genuinely learned after twittering-up those long years ago was just how many funny people are out there. Dammit. I’m sure many if not most of you reading this were and always saw yourself as the funniest kid in class. The most hilarious girl at the office. The featured if unpaid comic at dinner parties and holiday gatherings and water coolers everywhere. Well sorry. It doesn’t take much time on the timeline to find out you are no special snowflake.
As in all things, as good as you are there’s always someone better. Someone whose genius trumps your mere competence. Worse, however, are those multitudes who “think” they’re funny; those whose delirium dreams of being a wit are supported and enabled by masses of acolytes eager to please, for some unknowable reason, these barstool Borats. But there’s no accounting for taste, what’s funny is as subjective as what’s sexy, and as H.L. Mencken famously put it, “No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public.”
Consider, for example, that Jeff Foxworthy’s net worth as reported by Forbes is $100 million and Louis CK didn’t even make the 50 Top Paid Comedians list in 2013. No disrespect intended to Mr. Foxworthy, either. He’s a damn sight funnier than a lot of people on twitter with 60k, even 200k followers. And I’m not talking about celebrities, I’m comparing apples to apples. These are people who, like myself, are “twitter natives” (an alarming if accurate coinage defining those whose creativity is only, or at least primarily, expressed on that site). Several of these “twitter famous” individuals deserve their…uh…success. And I’m proud to know many of them. But most others rate those kind of numbers as much as Call of Duty gamers are entitled to the Medal of Honor.
But I (sort of) digress. Back to 2030. Or even 2020.
Everybody’s a comedian. They all do stand up. They always appear for Open Mic Night, They’re all in local Improv groups with names like “The Songbirds” and “Unnatural Acts”. They all submit packets to shows and they all have and nurture a twitter account, which leads to a website, which offers $5 downloads of their live album which was recorded in their cousin’s finished basement. And we STILL don’t have flying cars.
These comedians are also your doctor. Your boss. Your barista and barber and tax attorney. They’re your father and daughter and mail carrier and mechanic and the only one making money from comedy is the guy doing the headshots.
They are everywhere.
They are us.
Now it’s fair to point out, as you are probably about to, that this has happened before. With publishing. And music. A few years back one musician who I’m too lazy to Google at the moment said something like "The only way bands can make money anymore is by selling t shirts." Of course that problem was solved when bands starting working directly for ad agencies.
These, my comedian/writer/musician/artist friends, are the wages of the internet. Democracy has met creativity, and it better have a day job.
That’s my time folks. Tip your waiter.
He’s a comedian.