Kramer’s Blunder
The good news for comedian and actor Michael Richards is that he’s getting plenty of free publicity. He just scored the cover of next month’s Career Suicide magazine.
Richards has spent a week apologizing for his racist tirade at The Laugh Factory in Hollywood. It won’t do him any good. Richards didn’t use the N word in a comedy bit, or in character, or in any context that could possibly be defended as artistic freedom. He used it as a weapon to assault nightclub customers.
That hasn’t stopped a lineup of dignitaries from rushing to peddle forgiveness for a price.
Attorney Gloria Allred wants Richards to meet with a retired judge who will decide the appropriate financial compensation for the nightclub customers.
Rev. Jesse Jackson blamed Richards’ outburst on the entertainment industry’s “cultural isolation” and wants compensation for the black community in the form of more sitcom roles and executive producer jobs.
Richards’ newly hired crisis manager said the actor has begun psychiatric therapy. That’s not going to help his career, either, unless he wants to start going out for the Woody Allen roles.
The problem for Richards is that there’s no protection from the truth in a comedy club. A comedian cannot lie to a crowd about his real thoughts and feelings. And an audience cannot lie about what it finds funny.
Only the truth is funny.
That makes comedy a dangerous business for people who hide their prejudices or hatred just below the surface. There is no filter to protect a performer when he stands before an audience and opens his mind to their scrutiny.
Hollywood comedy clubs are both workshops and nightclubs, a dual purpose that carries with it a certain tension. For comics, the stage time is an opportunity to create and develop comedy bits in front of a live audience. For the audience, the cover charge they paid to get in entitles them to see a comedy show, and they are not patient with material that isn’t working.
In other words, heckling goes with the territory. Now you know why nightclubs prohibit recording devices.
Richards may have been out of practice as a stand-up after years of success as an actor on “Seinfeld.” Or he may have been angry that a large group was being seated while he was on stage. Or he may have been frustrated that his concentration was disrupted by a heckler.
History is full of comeback stories, and who knows, Richards could someday be one of them. At least he had the decency not to blame his racist rant on alcohol. The Distilled Spirits Council might even sponsor his next sitcom. They’re just that grateful.
Argus Hamilton
Host-comedian,
Comedy Store, Hollywood
Christmas in Prose
Once again at Christmas we find our young men and women still in Iraq,
Although in November the ballots urged it was time to bring them back,
In the season of peace and goodwill even in the climatic struggles of the past,
Men have put down rifles and for a few hours tried to allow the king of peace to last,
From soccer in Flanders Field in 1914 to Christmas Day at the Battle of the Bulge,
The human spirit locked in mortal combat has always tried to indulge,
In a safe harbor where each side for only a moment stops firing shells,
But rather Christmas carols in each other’s language with imagined tinkling of bells,
O Christmas Tree met with O’Tannenbaum, Silent Night with Stille Nacht,
For only a few hours the prince of peace, the Martian winds to block,
Today this may not be a case of the crescent against the cross,
But each day more GIs too soon depart and more civilians suffer a fatal loss,
No one would view this as another belated crusade,
Only shock at how quickly a land could descend into the dark, dark shade.
The cradle of civilization, now the cradle of the dark forces of the night,
Iraqis exploding against Americans, Sunnis against Shiites
The myth of Muslim against Muslim will never again surface and occur,
When did the winds blowing render the Mecca dreams impure?
In a time of worldly chaos, how can you ever think to cope?
When in the desert streets, the humanity strands is like an unraveling rope,
First has to be an appreciation and gratitude for our thin khaki line,
That on this Christmas keeps us safe as civilization on Baghdad’s streets unwind,
Be it in prayer for their safety or in the gifts of Operation Gratitude,
Keep and maintain the spirit of peace as a lasting attitude,
Second, we cannot control distant shores, misguided emotions to direct,
Only that within and here we can properly and decisively deflect
The hatred or disgust due to one’s standing, graces, race or creed,
Or the ability to keep walking by when one hears the cry of true need,
We may shop until exhaustion on Black Friday but that is but a brief detour,
We are strong because after all is said, the wrapped gifts are not the lure,
Only the gift of peace, which sadly many beyond our shores will reject
And with a hatred borne of unknown Martian winds try to infect,
Can we in this Christmas season remain the city of lights on a troubled hill?
A beacon for all humanity seeking warmth more than ever from the Martian chill,
A linkage to that small child in a stable planting humanity’s great, lasting seed?
It is the gift of peace to give, more so now, it is the gift all of us truly need.
Yes, if we reach out, give, family, friends and fellow mankind to embrace,
No matter the chaotic winds, seek and find shelter in the Christmas grace.
Michael Ridley
Newport Beach
