My Debt to Jewish-American Humour

Danny Kaye, Jerry Lewis, and Phil Silvers (as Sgt. Bilko)

 

 

I.

 

Humour, said Freud, is a means of obtaining pleasure from life, no matter what. 

 

In other words, laughter is a way of overcoming suffering as well as an antidote to that all-too-human tendency to take ourselves seriously. 

  

That's why the most profound comedy is often rooted in misery and self-mockery (even self-hatred). And that's why the best humour in the world is Jewish in origin ...

 

 

II.

 

I'm certain that the tradition of humour in Judaism can be traced way back, but I'm a late 20th-century boy and so I'm mostly interested in the humour that developed amongst the Jewish community of the United States and shaped the worlds of film and television in the last seventy years, rather than the subtle theological satire expressed in the Talmud, for example.

 

Antisemitic conspiracy theorists often claim that the Jews are overrepresented in the world of banking and maybe that's true, maybe not [1]. But what cannot be denied is that a disproportionately high percentage of American comedians and comic actors have been Jewish [2].

Of course, Jews have significantly influenced and contributed to the development of the modern world in many fields - art, philosophy, science, politics, business, etc. But I'm particularly grateful for their role within the world of entertainment. 

 

For my childhood was made happier by Danny Kaye, Jerry Lewis, and Phil Silvers as Sgt. Bilko. And today, the comic genius of Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld continues to exert a huge influence over my understanding not only of what constitutes funny, but of how I view the world (ironically and with curbed enthusiasm).

 

 

 

Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David

 

  

 

Notes

 

[1] The idea that Jews are good with (and greedy for) money is one of the oldest antisemitic stereotypes. It's undeniable, however, that Jews are well-represented in finance and business. See the article on Jews and Finance on myjewishlearning.com which nicely puts things into historical and cultural context, explaining why this is so. 

 

[2] In 1978, Time magazine claimed that 80 per cent of professional comedians in America were Jewish, even though Jews only made up 3 per cent of the U.S. population at that time. Click here to read the article 'Behaviour: Analyzing Jewish Comics' (2 Oct 1978).    

 

 

When Jerry Seinfeld and Quentin Tarantino Met Lawrence Tierney ...

Lawrence Tierney as Elaine's father Alton Benes 

Seinfeld (S2/E3, 1991)

 

 

I. 

 

Twice recently, I have encountered a Lawrence Tierney look-alike on the 174 bus to Romford and have been tempted to start humming 'Master of the House' [1].

Of course, that would be silly, as he isn't the real Lawrence Tierney - i.e., the American actor best known for his portrayal of mobsters and tough guys in a career that spanned over fifty years and who died in 2002.

 

And even if it were the real Lawrence Tierney, miraculously resurrected and living in Essex, I doubt he'd appreciate me reminding him of his one-off appearance on Seinfeld which didn't end well ...

 

 

II. 

 

'The Jacket' is a very early episode of Seinfeld [2], but contains one of my favourite scenes, in which Jerry and George meet Elaine's father, played by Lawrence Tierney, in the lobby of his hotel and are made to squirm by the latter's gruff, no-nonsense manner while waiting for Elaine - who's late - to arrive.   

 

Tierney's magnificent performance as Alton Benes was praised by cast and crew alike. However, they were ill-prepared for his rather eccentric and intimidating on-set behavior, particularly when, during filming, it was discovered that Tierney had attempted to steal a butcher knife from the knife block in Jerry's apartment set.

 

Seinfeld decided to confront Tierney and, in a lighthearted manner, asked him what he had in his jacket pocket. Rather than try to lie or bluff his way out of the situation, Tierney pulled out the knife and jokingly re-enacted a scene from Psycho, holding the knife above his head and advancing towards Seinfeld with mock murderous intent.

 

Understandably, everyone was a little freaked out by this and so there were no further appearances on the show for Tierney, even though Alton Benes was intended to be a recurring character. Later, Julia Louis-Dreyfus (Elaine) would express her regret about this, but conceded that whilst Tierney was a wonderful actor, he was also a total nutjob [3].   

 

I don't know if the latter description was fair, but it's certainly true that Tierney had a long history of violent and often drunken behaviour [4] and even managed to get himself fired from the set of Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs (1992) the following year, after he and the director came to blows [5].

 

 

Notes

 

[1] My reason for this is not because Tierney appeared in the musical Les Misérables, but because he appeared in an episode of Seinfeld in which George (Jason Alexander) repeatedly sings this song. It certainly is catchy: click here. 

 

[2] 'The Jacket' is the third episode of the second season and only the show's eighth episode overall. Directed by Tom Cherones, written by Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld, it aired on 6 Feb 1991. To watch a clip from the episode featuring the meeting between Jerry, George, and Lawrence Tierney as Alton Benes, click here. 

 

[3] See Inside Look: 'The Jacket' (Seinfeld season two DVD extra): click here.

 

[4] Tierney's numerous arrests for being drunk and disorderly and jail terms for assaults on civilians and police officers cast a dark shadow over his career as an actor. Between 1944 and 1951, for example, he was arrested over twelve times in Los Angeles and served several months behind bars.

 

[5] Tierney played crime boss Joe Cabbot in Tarantino's debut movie. During filming of Reservoir Dogs in July 1991, Tierney was arrested and jailed for firing a gun at his nephew in a drunken rage and had to be given special day release so that he could complete his scene. 

      After firing him, Tarantino described Tierney as a complete lunatic, thereby lending support to Julia Louis-Dreyfus's character assessment. Click here for a clip from the movie featuring Tierney in his role as Joe Cabbot assigning aliases to the members of his gang. Click here for a short video in which Tarantino reminisces about his experience of working with Tierney. Thanks to Thomas Bonneville for sending me the latter link.   

 

Explain to the Angels Who Norm Macdonald Is ...

Norm Macdonald (1959-2021)

AP Photo / Dan Steinberg (2008)

 

 

If I remember correctly, the first time I ever saw Norm Macdonald was on an episode of Jerry Seinfeld's Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.*

 

It was clear that whether doing an impression of Richard Nixon discussing the Watergate break-in, telling a story about an (imaginary) episode of Kojak involving Crocker and a murdered prostitute, or simply reacting to hot sauce on his food, he was a uniquely funny character. 

 

Equally clear from the many tributes paid by friends and fellow comics following his death earlier this week, is the fact that he was much loved as well as hugely admired. Of these, Bob Saget's video posted on YouTube is perhaps the most touching: click here.  

 

On a lighter note ... A frog goes into a bank to get a loan ... 

 

* See 'A Rusty Car in the Rain', episode 2 of season 9, (Jan 12, 2017). Available on Netflix or you can click here to watch (a mirror-image version of) the episode on dailymotion.com 

Notes on Mr. Peanut and Bertie Bassett

 

I.

As George once remarked to Jerry, when it comes to selecting a romantic partner you could do a lot worse than Mr. Peanut [1], the sophisticated and elegant figure - some might even call him a swell - who made a career with the American snack-food company Planters (a division of Kraft Heinz).

Although probably better known in the US than the UK, he is reportedly of British heritage and goes by the real name of Bartholomew Richard Fitzgerald-Smythe (Mr. Peanut merely being a nickname based on his striking resemblance to a peanut in its shell).    

With his top hat, monacle, and cane - not to mention white gloves and spats - Mr. Peanut has an iconic image, little changed since he first unveiled the look back in 1916 [2]. By the mid-1930s, Mr. Peanut was recognised wherever he went and his fame only increased when he later appeared in numerous TV commercials as an animated cartoon character.

More recently, he appeared as a stop motion figure in a real world setting. It wasn't until 2010, however, that Mr. Peanut was given his first lines to speak (though it's rumoured that the actor Robert Downey Jr. actually voiced the role and, in 2018, it was decided he should revert to being a strong silent type once more).   

Then, at the begining of this year, Planters took the extraordinary decision of killing the character off and replacing him with an infantile - supposedly cooler - incarnation called Baby Nut, who will reach out to the next generation.

The decision brought a (surprisingly) mixed reaction from fans, media commentators, and industry experts.  

II.

I suppose the nearest we have to Mr. Peanut in the UK is Bertie Bassett ... A cheeky little chap who has been part of British popular culture since 1929 and whose body appears to be composed entirely of liquorice; but then it takes all sorts I suppose.

Like Mr. Peanut, Bertie carries a cane, but he lacks the former's dapper appearance and slightly rakish charm.

Nevertheless, Bertie does have an eye for the ladies and he marked his 80th birthday in 2009 by marrying Betty Bassett - the face of Red Liquorice Allsorts (but presumably no relation) - at the Mondelēz International factory in Sheffield, home to many iconic brands and the largest confectionary site in Europe, producing around 40,000 tonnes of sweets and crisps each year.  
  

Notes

[1] I'm referring to the episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The English Patient' [S8/E17], dir. Andy Ackerman, written by Steve Koren, which originally aired on March 13, 1997. Click here to watch the relevant scenes on YouTube.  

[2] When, in 2006, Planters mooted the idea of refreshing Mr. Peanut's look by giving him a bow tie or pocketwatch, the public made it clear online that they didn't want to see any changes.

Ghost Variations: Notes on the Madness of Robert Schumann

Robert Schumann (1810-1856) 

German Romantic composer, critic, and madman

In the season two episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The Jacket' [1], George has a catchy tune from Les Misérables stuck in his head which he can't stop singing: Master of the house, doling out the charm / Ready with a handshake and an open palm ...

Jerry warns him that the ninteenth century composer Robert Schumann went mad after just a single note earwormed its way into his mind and he involuntarily heard it playing over and over again. Obviously, George doesn't find this story very reassuring - Oh that I really needed to hear! - but is it true?

The short answer is yes: Schumann did go insane and have to be institutionalised; and he did hear a persistent A-note at the end of his life as well as other increasingly disturbing auditory hallucinations.

Thus it was, for example, that on one cold winter's night in February 1854, the composer leapt from his bed and began feverishly attempting to set down a melody that he believed at first was being dictated by the very angels of heaven. By morning, however, he was convinced that what he actually heard were the hideous cries of demonic beasts.

Whatever the true source of his inspiration [2], the melody became the basis of the six piano variations - known today as the Geistervariationen - that were the last thing he wrote before his final crack-up. They thus occupy a unique (and somewhat disturbing) place in his body of work - as, indeed, in the history of classical music. 

On 27 February, Schumann attempted suicide by throwing himself from a bridge into the Rhine. Rescued by a passing boat and taken home, he requested that he be admitted to an asylum for the insane. Here he remained until his death, aged 46, in the summer of 1856. During his confinement, although his friend Brahms had permission to visit, Schumann wasn't allowed to see his wife, Clara, until two days before his death.

The cause of his death - just like the cause of his madness [3] - is something that has been endlessly discussed ever since; was he schizophrenic or syphilitic? Did he have a bipolar disorder or were his neurological problems the result of a brain tumour of some kind? Was it pneumonia or mercury poisoning - mercury being a common treatment for syphilis at the time - which finally did him in?   

I suppose we'll never really know. But what we might do - and should do - is resist the urge of some commentators to regurgitate the romantic vomit and tired narratives regarding the genius and madness of artists ...

The view that creativity is rooted in or fatefully tied to madness is such bullshit. Artists may well think differently from most other people - that is to say, they may be neurologically divergent and able to experience the world from a wide array of queer perspectives (to delight in paradox, inconsistency, and even chaos), - but it's banal (and mistaken) to reduce this (or their heightened sensitivity) to mental illness.       

Ultimately, I return to Michel Foucault's conclusion in Madness and Civilization: the onset of madness marks the point at which creative work ends; a moment of abolition that dissolves the truth of the work of art [4].  

Notes

[1] Seinfeld, 'The Jacket' [S2/E3], dir. Tom Cherones, written by Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld, (first broadcast 6 February 1991). Click here to watch a clip from the episode on YouTube.

[2] Sadly, Schumann's mind had deteriorated to such a degree by this point, that he was unable to recognise that - far from being the work of angels, ghosts, or demons - the melody was in fact one of his own, written several months earlier.

[3] I'm taking Schumann's mental health issues - evident from a young age - as a given here, but, interestingly, there are critics such as John Worthen who vigorously challenge this idea. For Worthen the composer's tragic deterioration was rooted in a physical condition (syphilis) and was not a form of madness per se. See: Schumann: Life and Death of a Musician (Yale University Press, 2007).

[4] Michel Foucault, Madness and Civilization trans. Richard Howard, (Vintage Books, 1988), p. 287.

Philosophical Reflections on Self-Partnering

Emma Watson
Photo: Action Press / Rex / Shutterstock

As members of the Hollywood set are amongst the most self-absorbed, self-obsessed, and self-indulgent individuals in the world, it came as no surprise to hear Emma Watson speak in an interview with Vogue about self-partnering [click here to read online].

Of course, such a single-positive proposition is really nothing very new: we could trace out a long and fascinating history of self-partnering from Narcissus to Jerry Seinfeld; "Now I know what I've been looking for all these years - myself. I've been waiting for me to come along. And now I've swept myself off my feet!"*

And although some people seem to react with hostility to the idea, there's really nothing to get angry or judgemental about. In fact, I would encourage people to be happy for Ms Watson - particularly as she seems to be so content with the arrangement.

Ultimately, self-partnering is better than sitting around moping like Bridget Jones, or complaining about not having met your soulmate - that special someone who will complete you as a human being (as if Aristophanes's amorous fantasy was anything other than that).**

I also agree with Foucault that care for others shouldn't be put before the care of oneself; that the latter is ethically prior due to the fact that the relationship with oneself is ontologically prior. ***    

The only problem comes when you grow tired of the arrangement and seek a conscious uncoupling; i.e., a releasing of oneself from oneself  - 'cos breaking up is hard to do (comma, comma, down dooby doo down down).  

Notes

*Dialogue from Seinfeld, 'The Invitations', (S7/E22, 1999), written by Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld, episode dir. Andy Ackerman. Click here to watch a clip on YouTube.

** Plato, The Symposium, ed. M. C. Howatson and Frisbee C. C. Sheffield, trans. M. C. Howatson, (Cambridge University Press, 2008).

*** Michel Foucault, 'The Ethics of the Concern for Self as a Practice of Freedom', in The Essential Works of Michel Foucault 1: Ethics: Subjectivity and Truth, ed. Paul Rabinow, trans. Robert Hurley and Others, (The New Press, 1997).

Readers who enjoyed this post will probably find an earlier one on sologamy also of interest: click here.

Existence is Elusive 2: Further Reflections on The Artificial Silk Girl

Penguin Books (2019)

When I put on my make-up, the pretty little mask's not me

'Cause that's the way a girl should be in a consumer society.

I. Artificial Silk

Artificial silk - which is really just a nice-sounding name for rayon (or viscose, as it is more commonly known in Europe) - was first developed from cellulose fibre at the end of the 19th century.

When, in the '30s, America gave the world nylon, soon even real silk stockings were outmoded and heavy cotton or woollen dresses replaced by garments made of more affordable and easier to clean synthetic materials. These mass produced clothes, sold in the new department stores that sprang up in big cities around the world, including Berlin, enabled even working-class girls like Doris, the protagonist and narrator of Das Kunstseidene Mädchen, to look good and follow fashion.  

In other words, artificial silk was a wonder product that furthered female emancipation and the creation of a consumer society.*

II. The Artificial Silk Girl

(i) A Girl Called Doris ...

I like Irmgard Keun's second novel - a follow up to Gilgi (1931) - for many reasons, not least of all because it contains elements central to my own concerns as a writer; such as fashion and sexual politics. But I'm also very fond of its 18-year-old narrator, Doris, with her rosy complexion, permed hair, love of tinned sardines, and seven rusty safety pins attached to her underwear providing a form of punk chastity.

Doris is a promiscuous tragi-comic heroine in the same mould as Lorelei, the young flapper who narrates Anita Loos's Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1925) and the divinely decadent figure of Fräulein Sally Bowles, who first appeared in a short novel by Christopher Isherwood in 1937.

However, I also think we can see something of Doris in the character of Macabéa, in Clarice Lispector's brilliant novel, A Hora de Estrela (1977), which, like The Artificial Silk Girl, is a tale of crushed innocence and anonymous misery (although, to be fair, it's also a far more philosophically-informed work).

(ii) Venus im Peltz ...

Whilst described as an artificial silk girl,** Doris is actually a young woman who values the authenticity of natural materials; ermine, for example, is a sacred word in her vocabulary - one that gives her goosebumps just to think of it. At some point she steals a fur coat and it becomes the great love of her life:

"Such sweet, soft fur. So fine and gray and shy, I felt like kissing it, that's how much I loved it. It spoke comfort to me, a guardian angel, protection from heaven. It was genuine squirrel." [40]

If, initially, she intended merely to borrow the coat (albeit without permission of the owner), she knew deep down that she'd never return it: "The fur coat was attached to my skin like a magnet and they loved each other, and you don't give up what you love, once you have it." [40-41] Later, wandering the streets at five in the morning, disappointed and disgusted by an old flame, Doris thinks to herself:

"I look so elegant in that fur. It's like an unusual man who makes me beautiful through his love for me. I'm sure it used to belong to a fat lady with a lot of money - unfairly. It smells from cheques and Deutsche bank. But my skin is stronger. It smells of me now [...] The coat wants me and I want it. We have each other." [42] 

This, one might suggest, goes beyond a fur fetish towards a genuine example of objectum sexuality. Amusingly, she even gives her beloved coat a Christmas present; "a waft of lavender perfume" [91], and, at the end of the book, when she is considering returning the coat to its rightful owner, she composes a letter in which she writes:

"'Dear Madam:

Once I stole your fur coat. Naturally, you will be mad at me. Did you love it a lot? I'll have you know, I love it a lot. There were times where it lifted me up and made me a high-society woman and [...] the beginning of a star. and then there were times when I loved it just because it's soft and feels like a human being all over my skin. And it's gentle and kind. [...] And I can tell you that a thousand fur coats could rain down on me [...] but I would never love another coat the same way I loved this one." [129]

 

Those familiar with the novel will recall that it was her initial concern that the police might be after her on account of the stolen coat that made Doris decide to flee her hometown and catch an overnight train to Berlin, determined to become a movie star:

"And then everything I do will be right - I'll never have to be careful about what I do or say [...] I can just be drunk - nothing can happen to me anymore, no loss, no disdain, because I'm a star." [30]

(iii) Du bist verrückt mein Kind, du musst nach Berlin

At first, Doris loves the excitement of the Big City; the people, the U-Bahn, the enormous neon signs, etc. Not that she's happy exactly - or wants to be happy. She wants, rather, to become rich and famous and happy people are content with what they have and who they are and don't care about these things. "Only if you're unhappy do you get ahead." [54]  

This pessimistic philosophy is perhaps best expressed in the following paragraph, which could easily have been lifted from An Illicit Lover's Discourse: 

"If a young woman from money marries an old man because of money and nothing else and makes love to him for hours and has this pious look on her face, she's called a German mother and a decent woman. If a young woman without money sleeps with a man with no money because he has smooth skin and she likes him, she's a whore and a bitch." [56]

Sadly, things - as they have a habit of doing - take a turn for the worse. And soon Doris's misery is compounded by poverty and hunger and she is obliged to increasingly trade on her looks, shall we say, accepting the precarious patronage of sugar daddies. But still she retains her dreams of stardom and devotion to the city: "My life is Berlin and I'm Berlin." [60]

Her descriptions of the city to Herr Brenner - an old blind man who likes to hold her feet with reverence and stroke her silky legs and to whom she's extraordinarily kind - are really very beautiful and astonishingly observant. She wants him to experience and to love her Berlin as she knows and loves it.

He tells her: "'The city isn't good and the city isn't happy and the city is sick, but you are good'" [79] and I think that's probably true.

(iv)  Wir sind alle Prostituierte / Jeder hat seinen Preis

Actually, this remark made by Herr Brenner reminds me of a story that Norm MacDonald tells Jerry Seinfeld in an episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, about the naivety of Det. Crocker in an early episode of Kojak (the CBS series from the 1970s starring Telly Savalas).   

Investigating the murder of several prostitutes, Crocker interviews the mother of one of the dead girls and reports back to Kojak that, actually, she wasn't on the game - she was a good, good girl. Kojak, however, who's seen and heard it all, is cynically dismissive: "She was a good girl. Mama's apple pie. The Fourth of July - she was a hooker!" 

And, despite her protestations otherwise, that's really what Doris was - a good-time girl with a talent for storytelling and cooking her own goose. She remains defiantly proud of the fact that - despite everything - she's not a normal girl living a regular life: "Compared to that, a whore's life is more interesting." [120]

Ultimately, those men, including the ultra-annoying Ernst, who would oblige her to seek respectable paid employment and strip her of her beloved fur coat - which has such soft hair and been through so much with her - can go fuck themselves.

And if she turns into a whore like the girl Hulla, wearing "cheap, tight-fitting wool jumpers that emphasize her body shape in a vulgar way" [80], well, as the song says, we are all prostitutes ... And perhaps glamorous stardom - just like bourgeois decency - isn't all it's cracked up to be (or even all that different).

Notes

* Unfortunately, the history of artificial silk production is also a disturbing tale of toxic materials, environmental abuses, and economics trumping health and safety concerns; many workers involved in the industry suffered serious illness as a result of contact with this innovative and highly lucrative product. See: Paul David Blanc: Fake Silk: The Lethal History of Viscose Rayon, (Yale University Press, 2016).

** As a matter of fact, Doris is not a fan of artificial silk and advises against wearing it on dates with men as it wrinkles too quickly: "'Only pure silk, I say ...'" [72]

Read: Irmgard Keun, The Artificial Silk Girl, trans. Kathie von Ankum (Penguin Books, 2019). 

Play: X-Ray Spex, 'Art-I-Ficial', from the album Germfree Adolescents (EMI, 1978). The Pop Group, 'We Are All Prostitutes', (Rough Trade, 1979). 

Watch: Jerry Seinfeld and Norm Macdonald, 'A Rusty Car in the Rain', Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, Season 9, Episode 2 (2017): click here for the Kojak scene. 

Readers interested in the first part of this post in which I discuss the life of Irmgard Keun, should click here.

He Took It Out: Thoughts on the Case of Louis CK

Elaine's date with Phil Totola takes an unexpected turn

I. He Took It Out 

 

When asked by a friend to comment on recent cases of sexual misconduct involving male celebrities, including that of the comedian Louis CK who admitted to masturbating (or asking to masturbate) in front of various women on several occasions, I have to admit that my first thought was of a famous scene in an episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The Stand-In' (S5/E16).

In the episode, written by Larry David, Jerry sets Elaine up on a date with one of his friends, Phil Totola, who, at the end of the evening, instead of simply accepting a goodnight kiss, indecently exposes himself. The next day, Elaine - played by Julia Louis-Dreyfus with perfect comic timing and delivery - tells Jerry what happened: "He took it out." 

Jerry is perplexed and somewhat disbelieving: "How can this be?" Kramer, however, after his initial shock reaction, offers a possible explanation (and justification): "Maybe it needed some air." Whilst for George, told by Jerry of the incident later at the coffee shop, it's a moment of revelation: "Wow! I spend so much time trying to get their clothes off, I never thought of taking mine off." 

No one - including Elaine - thinks of the incident as a form of sexual assault or harassment; it's inappropriate and unexpected behaviour, but it's not criminal, or worth getting particularly upset over. She isn't thinking of reporting the incident to the police and she's not going to require counselling. Ms Benes has no idea of herself as being a victim and she's not going to start an internet campaign, because such a thing would have been #inconceivable in 1994, a very different time and a very different world, to the one we live in today ...          

II. The Case of Louis CK

In November 2017, five women told The New York Times that Louis CK was guilty of gross acts of sexual misconduct. In a statement released 24-hours after the story broke, the comedian admitted that the allegations were true and he apologised at length to all parties concerned. 

Despite this public confession and heartfelt expression of regret, a predictable storm of moral outrage and feminist fury followed, seriously damaging his reputation and threatening to permanently derail his career (which was largely built upon his willingness to joke about taboo subjects, including masturbation, for which he clearly has a particular penchant).

Asked to comment on the case of his friend Louis CK, Jerry Seinfeld amusingly seemed just as perplexed as when his fictional self heard about Phil Totola: How can this be? For him, such aberrant sexual behaviour doesn't even make sense; he can't understand why a man would want to strip naked and masturbate in front of a woman - even though, within the pornographic imagination, CFNM is a well-established (if somewhat niche) genre. 

Naturally, the media has also called upon various psychologists and therapists to help explain Louis CK's behaviour ...

III. Reflections on Male Sexuality

According to the experts, such behaviour is not simply exhibitionism; masturbating in front of another person without their consent is far more complex than erotic display. Ultimately, they say, it's not even about gaining sexual pleasure so much as it's about exercising power and control and should be seen, therefore, as a form of aggression; specifically, a form of violence against women.

Well, maybe ... but maybe not.

One might alternatively suggest that rather than see this as a sort of high-end form of gunning intended to embarrass, humiliate, or terrify women, maybe we can view it as a joyful and innocent expression of male libido once the latter has been freed from all the usual constraints placed upon it due to the privileged position enjoyed by these very successful and talented men.

Push comes to shove, I tend to agree with the poet and cultural critic Simon Solomon, who calls for a new narrative "if only to break this dangerous and disturbing cycle of women publicly recounting tales of fleeting sexual encounters months - or even years - after the alleged incidents took place, and of men accused of conduct deemed to be improper being obliged to enter therapy where they're taught to feel ashamed of their actions, desires, and fantasies."

The attempt to demonise and pathologise male sexuality is, Solomon continues, "not only detrimental to the psychic health and physical well-being of men, but it has negative consequences also for those women who love them." For as Marcuse points out, the continual repression of man's instinctual life and the frustration of his most active forces - what Nietzsche terms the taming of man - ultimately has the effect of weakening the latter and thus ensuring their becoming-reactive.

As William Blake wrote: He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence ...

Notes

Click here to watch a clip from the Seinfeld episode discussed above.

Click here to watch Jerry Seinfeld asked by Dana Weiss for his view of the Louis CK case. 

The lines attributed to Simon Solomon are paraphrased (with the author's permission) from an email sent on 2 March, 2018. 

See: William Blake, 'Proverbs from Hell', The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1790-93). 

For a follow-up post to this one, with further thoughts on male sexual display etc., click here.

Haters Back Off! I Love Miranda Sings

What's not to love about the brilliant comic character and internet sensation created, performed, and marketed with genius, by Colleen Ballinger? Miranda Sings is the perfect postmodern clown; the ugly-beautiful face of all that's bad - but, paradoxically, all that's good - about contemporary popular culture. 

In fact, the Miranda Sings YouTube channel is social media satire at its finest and funniest and fully deserving of its 300 million views and 3 million subscribers (or, as Miranda would call them, her Mirfandas). 

Her guest starring role on a recent episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee in full Miranda mode alongside a bemused and amused Jerry Seinfeld - followed by an appearance on The Tonight Show playing Pictionary - confirms that Ballinger has the respect and admiration of those in her profession who know great comic acting when they see it. 

Miranda's unique (and uniquely irritating) voice and her madly inventive use (and misuse) of language have to be heard to be believed. Likewise, her insane facial expressions, awkward body postures, and idiosyncratic twerking style just have to be seen (though the latter might still not be believed even after being seen).

Singer, model, actress, dancer - and magician! - again, I can only ask: what's not to love and recommend all readers check out her videos, or, if you get the chance, go see Ballinger performing as Miranda live in concert. 

Links: 

You can find Miranda by going to her website: mirandasings.com ... Or you can watch any of the hundreds of videos posted on her YouTube channel: youtube.com/user/mirandasings08 

To watch Miranda with Jerry Seinfeld on Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee click: here  ... Or to see Miranda on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, click here.

Calimocho: On the Politics of Wine and Cola

 Andy Warhol: Coca-Cola (3), 1962

Probably the most powerful argument for choosing a cool can of Coke over a fine glass of wine remains that made by Andy Warhol and it's primarily a cultural-political argument tied to American consumerism, rather than one concerning taste (in either sense of the word) or sobriety:

"What's great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest. You can be watching TV and see Coca-Cola, and you can know that the President drinks Coke, Liz Taylor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke, too. A Coke is a Coke and no amount of money can get you a better Coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the President knows it, the bum knows it, and you know it."   

- The Philosophy of Andy Warhol, (Harcourt, 1975)

This is undeniably true and one senses something of this same patriotism and ironic egalitarianism of the market place - one might almost call it Coca-Cola communism - born of a New World dislike for Old World snobbery, in George Costanza's equally robust defence of Pepsi.

Reminded by Elaine that it's customary for guests to bring a bottle of wine to a dinner party, George informs her that he doesn't even drink wine - he drinks Pepsi. When Elaine scornfully tells him that he can't bring Pepsi to a gathering of grown-ups, George snorts: "You telling me that wine is better than Pepsi? Huh, no way wine is better than Pepsi."

Even Jerry's attempt to intervene by telling his outraged friend that the fabric of society is very complex and that one has to conform to all manner of customs and conventions, fails to placate George on this point. Later, in the car driving to the party, George asks: "What are we Europeans with the Beaujolais and the Chardonnay ...?" 

Still, none of this serves to explain Jeremy's discomfort at ordering a bottle of Barolo when on a date in an episode of Peep Show. He's obviously put off by the price (£45), but does he really think that wine is less delicious than hot chocolate or Coke? If so, this simply makes him juvenile rather than American does it not?    

Notes:

See Seinfeld, 'The Dinner Party', episode 13, season 5 (1994) and Peep Show, 'Burgling', episode 1, series 5 (2008). 

The Trial of the New York Four

Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer with their lawyer, Jackie Chiles,
in 'The Finale' (S9 E23/24). Originally broadcast May 14, 1998.

Everyone loves a good trial and one might almost be tempted to bookend Western civilization between the trial of Socrates in 399 BC and the Seinfeld trial almost two and a half thousand years later in 1998.

In the former case, an Athenian gadfly is accused of impiety and instilling the younger generation with a morally nihilistic and disrespectful attitude via his uniquely provocative mixture of irony, sophistry and dialectics. Found guilty, he is sentenced to death, which he willingly accepts by drinking the hemlock provided. 

In the latter case, which is my main concern here, an American smart alec and professional comedian is - along with his three friends - accused of contravening article 223-7 of the Latham Massachusetts Penal Code; i.e. the so-called Good Samaritan Law, which requires citizens to actively help or assist anyone in danger as long as it is reasonable for them to do so. 

Also found guilty, Jerry Seinfeld, Elaine Benes, George Costanza, and Kosmo Kramer are given a year in jail in order that they might reflect upon the manner in which they have conducted themselves in relation to society. In passing sentence, Judge Vandelay speaks of the "callous indifference and utter disregard for everything that is good and decent" that the four have repeatedly demonstrated. In this he echoes the sentiments of the prosecuting district attorney, who, in his opening statement, told the jury that the defendants not only ignored but mocked the victim of a violent crime and that they each had a long history of vain, greedy, selfish, and immature behaviour which often resulted in the abuse and deception of others.

To many fans of the show, this caused an uncomfortable moment; their own guilt and complicity ruthlessly exposed by the writer Larry David. They doubtless didn't want or anticipate a happy ending - but this was brutal. And many have not forgiven him to this day. However, the fact is Socrates was not falsely accused and convicted and neither were the New York Four. And, with a magnificently cynical form of stoicism and noble indifference, they accepted their prison sentence just as the ancient philosopher accepted death: no tears, no complaints, no appeals. 

And still - above all else - no hugging, no learning. 

Thus it is that the greatest TV show ends with its protagonists behind bars and still trapped in the magic circle of their own solipsism as Jerry lectures George once more and for all eternity on how the position of the second button literally makes or breaks a shirt.