People weren’t funny before I arrived on the scene. They would laugh, but it was usually out of respect or confusion. A nervous tic or an anatomical reflex. By bringing live comedy to network television for late night programming, I changed the world. Messianic feelings began seeping into my delicate Canadian psyche before that very first show. It was a time of mass apathy in the country. People needed me more than they will ever know. It was a Promethean accomplishment. But even he just stole fire. It didn’t include TV, advertising, electricity and any digital content.
Some people say I invented modern comedy. It’s flattering. I usually blush and accept their praise. Because it’s true. Did jokes exist before my arrival? Possibly. There were attempts, I’ll admit that. Abbot and Costello. Charlie Chaplin. Buster Keaton. The Three Stooges. The Marx Brothers. Bugs Bunny. Jack Benny. Your Show of Shows. The Colgate Comedy Hour. But these were different somehow. What I changed was finding a joke, one joke, then beating it into the ground for fifty years. That’s commitment. None of the individuals above are still at it, except for the cartoon rabbit.
What’s great about live comedy and to some extent improv itself, is that people don’t have to be in awe of the humor. It’s the act we admire. The process. The audience understands and appreciates how hard it is to make a show like ours. That gives us cover and a pass. It’s all out there. I never liked Apocalypse Now, then I watched the documentary Francis’s wife made about the three-year ordeal making the film in the Philippines. Now it’s my favorite film. You can’t imagine the deprivations, albeit self-inflicted ones, they had to overcome just to complete a movie.
It's old hat to say no one wants to know how the sausage is made. My whole career disproves that theory. Look at it. People need to know how the sausage is made. They crave it. They want to see and understand. Only then can they laugh.
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