The Idealism of Cynicism (or Vice-Versa)
President-elect Barack Obama: it's symbolic. And to I think, I put that guy there. I put him in the Senate. I donated $2 to his campaign. I catapulted him to the presidency with my one popular vote and 21 electoral votes.
People screamed for Hope, people sold hopeful T-shirts, and South Park did an Hope Diamond-stealing homage to Guy Ritchie the next day. In another not-oft-mentioned episode, there were a few black boys behind me in Grant Park shouting BIDEN, GO JOE, and JOE 2016 when the vice president-elect himself got onto stage after the speech.
So everyone's feeling good (that bastard Obama really can give a speech). It feels like it's time for change: is it time for a revolution, the Republican comedy revolution? The party in power is never the party with the most ammo for comedy. My blog and my craft were honed in these years of Bush. I began Improv in these eight years, and my writing productivity soared. I created the wise-cracking, sometimes Communist, mostly just-a-jerk character Eaglie only a few months after September 11th.
But I stood there and listened to the echoes of the cries of "Yes, We Can" and "Yes, We Did," the words of the Gettysburg Address, and, most moving of all, the crowds singing along to "The Star-Spangled Banner." I bobbed my head. I sang along.
This for me creates a conflict of my idealism and cynicism. It's like if the Cubs won the World Series: where do I go from here? What do I do? Where's my comedy? Is Obama really this awesome? Will he save us all?
Then I figure, nah. He's human, he might or might not screw up, but at least we still have greasy congressional halls, haywire circuit courts, and the entire state of California.
Rest assured, this is my job. Like any satirist (Chris Buckley to name one, The Daily Show cast to name some others), I love my job even when it kills me with inner conflict, the conflict piercing my heart: how do I turn the painful funny?
I do not doubt this my calling. President Obama will not be spared. And my friend and fellow blogger Pacman reminded me, don't forget Biden. Ah, thank God for Joe.
People screamed for Hope, people sold hopeful T-shirts, and South Park did an Hope Diamond-stealing homage to Guy Ritchie the next day. In another not-oft-mentioned episode, there were a few black boys behind me in Grant Park shouting BIDEN, GO JOE, and JOE 2016 when the vice president-elect himself got onto stage after the speech.
So everyone's feeling good (that bastard Obama really can give a speech). It feels like it's time for change: is it time for a revolution, the Republican comedy revolution? The party in power is never the party with the most ammo for comedy. My blog and my craft were honed in these years of Bush. I began Improv in these eight years, and my writing productivity soared. I created the wise-cracking, sometimes Communist, mostly just-a-jerk character Eaglie only a few months after September 11th.
But I stood there and listened to the echoes of the cries of "Yes, We Can" and "Yes, We Did," the words of the Gettysburg Address, and, most moving of all, the crowds singing along to "The Star-Spangled Banner." I bobbed my head. I sang along.
This for me creates a conflict of my idealism and cynicism. It's like if the Cubs won the World Series: where do I go from here? What do I do? Where's my comedy? Is Obama really this awesome? Will he save us all?
Then I figure, nah. He's human, he might or might not screw up, but at least we still have greasy congressional halls, haywire circuit courts, and the entire state of California.
Rest assured, this is my job. Like any satirist (Chris Buckley to name one, The Daily Show cast to name some others), I love my job even when it kills me with inner conflict, the conflict piercing my heart: how do I turn the painful funny?
I do not doubt this my calling. President Obama will not be spared. And my friend and fellow blogger Pacman reminded me, don't forget Biden. Ah, thank God for Joe.