Lingo

Any true student of the human condition watches a lot of Game Show Network. My roommate and I, some evenings, decompress from our awful, salt-mine days by taking in "Lingo," which serves, at the very least, as proof that Chuck Woolery is probably a robot. I think he could actually host the show in his sleep, and I'm not entirely convince that he isn't. Chuck might, in fact, be a creature willed into existence by our collective conscience for the sole purpose of hosting game shows. He doesn't age.

More important, however: I'm pretty sure that "Lingo" is the gayest gameshow on television. As in, at least half the contestants are gay. They're either gay couples, two gay friends, or a gay guy with his best female friend who secretly wishes he was straight. Watch it and tell me if I'm wrong. Either the producers do all their contestant recruiting in gay-friendly L.A. neighborhoods ... or gay subculture has made a conscious decision to take over "Lingo." But why? Because they love irony? Because they love kitsch? Because they love Chuck? Was it pressure from the religious right that led to the end of "Lingo"?

I need answers.

By the way, they have another new version of "The Newlywed Game," but judging from commercials, I think they left out the best part: the euphemism "Makin' Whoopee." Next time you are in the throes of passion (with a partner), do me a favor: yell out "WHOOPEE!" Then e-mail me afterwards to let me know what happened next.

I need answers.

It's Harder Than It Looks

When people find out I am a comedian from D.C., they always ask if (or assume that) I do political jokes. I don't, because it's not something I generally laugh about, and also, because it's a lot harder that it looks.

A few people are raking Wanda Sykes over the coals for her gig at the White House Press Correspondents Dinner. I actually saw her set live -- the night before, when she stopped in for a practice run at the D.C. Improv. In a comedy club setting (you know, where you would find comedians), most of the jokes went over just fine, and nothing made the crowd uncomfortably silent or hostile. I'll put it this way: I'm a Republican, I can be sort of pissy about it, and I still wasn't offended by anything.

But swap out a comedy club audience for a bunch of reporters, politicians and super-hyper-sensitive people in the public eye, and you get the awkwardness. Political comedy (or even just jokes about politics) is almost IMPOSSIBLE to do to a broad audience -- if you want to make everyone happy, you have to be so bland that it's not really worth writing the joke. But if you say what you think, you're basically going to lose huge swaths of the crowd. That's why, if you watch something like, oh, a Margaret Cho show, it's more of a rally -- no casual observers, just likeminded people -- and therefore a complete puzzlement to anyone not sharing those views.

Plus, if you're smart enough to write a joke about a political subject, then you're also smart enough to know why your point of view might be wrong ... which sort of kills a lot of internal logic of your joke. Anything beyond "Bush is dumb" or "Clinton is horny," and the limb you're on starts creaking. Etc. etc. and so forth.

Basically, it's REALLY HARD to do well. And so the greatest mystery, to me, is why event planners have no concept of what they're signing up for. The White House Correspondent's Dinner had Steven Colbert a few years back, you may recall, and then quite a few people were horrified when he ... acted like Steven Colbert. Same deal this year with Wanda Sykes. These people aren't unknown commodities. A comedian hired for a gig has some professional obligation to bend toward the demands of the event, but at the same time, if you want someone to mow your lawn, do you pick they guy with the lawnmower, or the dude holding two samurai swords?

OK, bad example. Of course you'd pick the sword guy. But you catch my drift.

Tags: TV