But with YouTube, the jokes are nicely cropped for modern tastes–there are no overlong pauses for applause, or laughter, often no pauses at all–and they come as fast as one can click. Divorced from the alien, humorless pauses between jokes, we can better appreciate the unimaginably perfect comic timing of Jack Benny, who knew when to pause during a joke as well as anybody ever has. That kid he’s with would be relatively popular, eventually.

Here’s Benny with Groucho Marx, in a parody that would seem right at home in Mad TV if it were shrill, obvious, and not funny at all. We–I, at least–don’t often think about parody being a major form in the Distant Past, but that’s probably just because most of it has dated so severely; who’s going to understand a joke about Deal or No Deal fifty years from now? (I realize, of course, I’m being ridiculous; Howie Mandel’s biographers will surely give us a proper frame of reference.)

Finally, here’s a clip of an appearance on the Bob Hope show that didn’t quite go as scripted. Benny wasn’t known for his ad-libbing–as he once said to Fred Allen, “You wouldn’t dare insult me like that if my writers were here!” But I’d imagine that, after inhabiting a character for twenty years, thinking on its feet wasn’t such a hard issue.

The most amazing thing about this is he isn’t breaking the fourth wall like everyone’s favorite joke killer, Jimmy Fallon, who would break character delivering a eulogy. He’s breaking character as his character, the parsimonious, pompous twit he even seemed to play while being interviewed.

On an unrelated note, anybody who doubts the lasting influence of Jack Benny’s portrayal of The Jack Benny need only watch John Krasinski’s portrayal of Jim Halpert on the Office. All the eyebrow raises and confused looks and do-you-believe-this doubletakes are classic Jack Benny, and I’m pretty sure I recall Jim doing the hand-to-face thing referenced in the Johnny Carson clip at least once. If John Krasinski is aware of the connection, he is, in fact, the coolest person on earth.

For purposes of this blog entry, I’d like to talk about the first rock band to be allowed by the Soviet gov’t into mainstream culture: браво (… Bravo.)

Consider the milieu: three or four years before this, rock bands were forced to stay underground. The Soviet government considered this subversive stuff, and by non-god it wasn’t going to get out and corrupt the youth.

But a few years later, the landscape had changed. This formerly terrifying musical force was to be allowed into the rapidly-reforming culture. Among the most popular of these early bands was браво, led by young frontwoman Zanna Aguzarova. Founded in 1983 and arrested once for playing their music, when rock was allowed to blossom in Russia they immediately became one of the scene’s biggest hits.

What was this subversive entity that had, just a few short years before, been worthy of arrest? It was… uh, early 90s No Doubt?:

They would later run into some hard times–the lead singer left the band, tried unsuccessfully to become an American pop star, and had some drug problems–but I love that clip because they’re so optimistic about things finally turning around, and being able to play the kind of music they loved. On that note, here’s what was apparently one of the first music videos to ever appear on Russian television. Ladies and gentleman, presenting Bravo with “the Leningrad Rock and Roll”:

Awesome? Awesome.

Hey! How were you doing? I couldn’t help but notice that “Centerfold” by the J. Geils Band was in our Purchased Music playlist today. It wasn’t there yesterday, as far as I can tell, so I think I’ve addressed this correctly.

Anyway, I understand that we kind of like this song. It’s got a catchy chorus, to be sure; I can easily imagine us singing this song on the highway, as loudly as possible. We would also sing that synth part–I’m fairly sure it’s a synth part–at the beginning. And the “na na nas”–inspired.

At the same time, I’m worried it lacks the staying power or the relatability we usually strive for in a purchased song. It fails to shine a light on the human condition, or make us feel good about some tramp, like “Song for the Dumped” did, or even to impress people browsing our shared music. We’ve had lots of crushes, sure, on lots of homegrown homeroom angels, but few of them were Playboy material, and fewer still have that sort of inclination. I mean, we went to a Christian school; most of them are already married, with several kids. We would be homewreckers.

And let’s be honest–we can barely ask them out now. Imagine if one of them were a famous model! Would we really ask them to take off their clothes in a motel room? Talk to the me that was terrified about positioning his right arm during our prom photo, if you have any questions about that.

I’m sorry for singling you out. Looking at earlier purchased songs–the second single off that Superdrag album, the All-American Rejects video where the guy’s face keeps changing, that Nickelback song that they played at the Cardinals game when Jim Edmonds was up to bat–well, it’s apparent that mistakes have been made. And they’ll be made again. I just hope that, in the future, you keep our talks in mind. It’s hard being me after midnight, when the inhibitions disappear and one-touch purchasing is on, but I know you’ve got the ability! Keep at it.

Warm regards,
Dan Moore, during the afternoon of January 3, 2007

P.S. There is a plate with something on it at the foot of the bed, is this ours? Please write back ASAP.

Some obvious problems on a second read, but I liked it. And it took about a half an hour, editing and all, so not a big time outlay.

James Brown is going out the same way he came in—with a flourish.
Funeral plans for the Godfather of Soul, who died on Christmas Day of congestive heart failure at age 73, have been finalized. At the same time, as tributes from fans and fellow musicians around the world continue to pour in, Spike Lee has announced he’ll direct a biopic based on Brown’s life.

Of course, James Brown is going out the same way everyone goes out–dying. Other people are going in their own way, now that he is dead and hereby immune from criticism. Let’s see, we’ve got Spike Lee, looking for some mainstream recognition; whoever plays the lead, looking for a guaranteed Oscar nod; the studio, looking for some reverent dollars.

And the nation’s fascination with biopics continues. Why? Why are we so obsessed with someone playing Ray Charles, or Ali, or Bobby Darin? Why can’t characters fabricated from whole cloth get the same kind of recognition?

It’s because if their lives were represented the same way James Brown’s will be, we wouldn’t buy it. Rocky Balboa is pulling in disappointing revenue, because people don’t believe a made-up sixty-year old boxer could do what he does in the movie. Not without real character flaws, real horrible events, which are not fun to watch on screen.

Those won’t be in The Godfather of Soul either, no doubt; we won’t see the wifebeating, or assaulting a police officer. We’ll see his rise from obscurity, and his fame, and maybe, to give the movie some arc, his fall from grace in the 70s before he makes a grand comeback with “Living in America.” It’ll be just as false and unreal as Rocky, but since he’s a real person people will understand. It happened, right? So how can it hit a wrong note.

The same is true in books, now; James Frey is verbally abused by Oprah, and the publisher rushes in to give people refunds and heartfelt apologies. The book isn’t any different. But people aren’t willing to relate to people who don’t exist any more. Forget about Jay Gatsby–we want our romances processed, sure, but we want to be able to watch the person who loved and lost come on TV and talk about it. We want real, and we’re willing to let people be fake for it.