i finally figured out why comedy is better than art... and it's pretty dumb and obvious. comedy is all about content. that's it. it's completely intellectual. you're weird looking so what (actually, amy sedaris is pretty fucking gorgeous, not that she ever takes advantage of that, which works even more to my point), you have a weird voice, fuck it, you're a repellent human being use it. formalism doesn't exist in comedy. you don't even have to talk as long as you can communicate in some basic way, (there's no escaping semiotics) you're golden. if you can use it well. the one rule for comedy is to be funny. that's the entire game. just a bit of cleverness that hasn't been seen before. you cant get on stage, fine, you can write produce whatever. its all one game for these cats.
all you need to do is watch the commentary for anchoman to relalize that the director is easily as funny as will, and the reason why the film works is because they are playing that game together.
but that's the thing.
like what does art have?
the closest thing that you can get to laughter is the formalist's ohhh and ahhh. and that's total crap and bound up in some weird social myth about the artist as socally inspiring genius anyway; not due to some hocus pocus aethestectic experience.
i guess this thing is all about the back stories for this crap so here's the second half first for this one.
last spring, a couple weeks after i made it i was wearing this shirt at a party in baltimore. and these two girls roll up on me and start reading me the riot act. so i'm reasonably shit-canned at this point and the short version of the story is that i start lecturing them on the history of feminism and i inform them in no uncertain terms that just because they are girls who went to college that does not give them the right to run around invoking feminism as the default reason to back-up whatever they want. because of course they were gonna meet up with someone someday who knew the rhetoric better than they did, and in fact today was that day. so while i'm talking circles around them, (really don't know the history of feminism all that well but the johnny walker wisdom was runnin' high) one of them keeps interrupting me. so being the nice guy that i am, i say, "shut up, bitch, i'm tryin' to talk." needless to say that upped the ante a bit in the whole interaction, she demanded an apology, which i in no uncertain terms informed her was not going to be forthcoming. and she continued to demand said apology regularly from me for the rest of the night, up to and including the point where she was blowing me i a stairwell.
and i think that's where i will end that part of the story.
