Blog Post Two: Comedy following Tragedy

            Comedy allows people to approach—socially—topics of discomfort; that is its purpose.  A comedian on stage will riff on anything from sex to race—these two happening to be amongst the most commonly prodded subjects.  But if it’s not uncomfortable, if it doesn’t flick that switch in your head (the one that gets you squirming in your seat), doesn’t ramp up your heart rate, then it’s probably not funny material.  Comedy Central’s Tosh.O is as entertaining and hilarious as it is because of its unfailing devotion to the arbitrary and the unpleasant.  That’s right, they should be grouped together because that show—which, for those of you who haven’t seen it before, is essentially one comedian, Daniel Tosh, ranting in front of a green screen on which internet video clips are shown—is  a massive accumulation of really random, eccentric, and often repulsive things.  So, we laugh.  Comedy doesn’t necessarily have to be viewed as making fun of something, in the negative sense; it could be viewed as a form of acknowledgment, a way of keeping something in people’s heads, keeping them thinking. Comedy as an homage.  However, there is a question of whether some subjects are just plain off limits.  There are a few events in American history that, as someone mentioned in class, Americans simply seem to steer clear from.  These taboo subjects, which would include Pearl Harbor and 9/11, are repressed to the public eye, short of anything memorial-related.  There isn’t a complete absence of comedy, but anything geared towards an historical event of any significant emotional and physical destruction for the American, is viewed as ill-conceived, and with the worst intentions.  This humor is shunned.  Time is obviously a major issue concerning the considered appropriateness of said comedy.  Yet, interestingly, Americans still tend to avoid joking around about some particular things, even after substantial time has elapsed.  Years is one thing, but decades? 

            The Boondocks episode we watched in class poked a little fun at, as Chris Rose calls it, “the Thing.”  That-which-must-not-be-named—feels like being plopped down in a Potter story.  But the principal is there: this person, this storm, this “Thing” is so traumatic for the people intimately involved with the disaster, that it hurts to hear it spoken aloud.   The cartoon is clever about the way it approaches this particular borderline unmentionable subject in the sense that it is very serious when it shows the imitation depictions of the storm.  It toys around with the aftermath, and the people involved.  The assortment of stereo-type based characters manages to give the ole Stephen Colbert “wag of the finger” to the New Orleans citizens that Rose calls out in disgrace, in 1 Dead in Attic.  For example, the character that basically goes around committing aggravated larceny inside of the home that he has been welcomed into, is a strong metaphor for the figurative raping of New Orleans from the inside-out, by its own citizens. This is the reason why the episode of The Boondocks works: it isn’t in poor taste.  It highlights real issues and calls out the people who committed any of the insidious, ridiculous crimes against community in the wake of the disaster.  Plus, as a general rule, shows that give the cutest character the voice of racism typically tend to be well-intentioned.