Hello again...let the bitching commence

So yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve decided to group some random thoughts together, slap it on the internet and have the balls to call it an article, but here I am once again ( and before you get on you’re high horse may I also remind you here YOU are again.)
Why the absence, you ask? Well, despite reports of a roving band of wolves circling my desk and the wildly inaccurate theory that I had, in fact, grown up , the explanation is simple.
I’ve been pretty damn lazy.
It’s funny though what gets us motivated, what lights a fire under our asses and tells us yeah, stop dicking around and DO something. For me it was a visit from an old friend: Monty Python.
Tonight started the first of six parts of ‘Monty Python’s personal best’ on PBS (channel 13 here in the real world), which is really just a glorified clip show of archived Python moments. Eric Idle kicked it off tonight (bonus geek AND style points if you can name the wizzard Idle voiced in not one but two animated adventure games) with a collection of skits he wrote in his Python years.
It gave me a nice warm type of thrill to watch these skits again in much of the same manner that I first discovered them. See, back when I was about 8 or so a neighbor of mine (the same one who turned me onto the works of Terry Pratchett and Robert Asprin) directed me toward a non stop marathon of the entire run of Monte Python on channel 13 (remember that’s PBS… philistines.)
Well, of course I missed the point of almost every joke, laughed mainly at their accents and watched most closely for the next flash of bare breasts. It stuck with me though, and as I matured, so did my appreciation of the Python troupe and their particular brand of humor.

This is the point where I must warn you, this could possibly get very lengthy….grab a cup of coffee and settle in wont you?

Anyhow, after all these years I once again found myself watching the same skits that I’ve nearly memorized and it hit me like a wave of depression: there has been nothing remotely this good in terms of humor for most of my lifetime.

Case in point: one nearly forgotten skit International Philosophy had a team of classic German and Greek philosophers milling about on a soccer field. Cut away to a shot of The marathon for people with incontinence only to return to a shot of Nietzsche getting a yellow card from the ref, who happens to be Confucius. Piss jokes and philosophical humor, those 2 minutes had everything. The troupe really shines, however, when the humor is understated, delivered in the dry tone of Cleese or the expressive face of Palin. These were people who knew their humor, from outlandish to mundane, and reveled in it.
Compare that to something a bit more recent, something that seems to have, despite the limits of good taste, endeared itself to the public: Seinfeld.
Seinfeld lasted a staggering nine years on air, ending in one of the biggest television moments of our time. This, folks, was a show which was the antithesis of imagination. A collection of half jokes and dreary stories passed off as an authentic slice of NY. There is no wit, no humor to be found in these shows. There is no heart in the comedy of Seinfeld and it’s ilk.

And therein lies the problem in most mass entertainment. This hit me earlier in the day when I found myself listening to a song by Audioslave (“I am the highway”) only to realize that the new episode of American Idol was on tonight. American idol is the worst sort of pre-packaged form of music. Not one of those ‘talents’ feels any connection with their music. To them it’s not about the heart or the soul of the song. It’s about the form, it’s about flashing the smile and perming your hair just right so that middle America will text you into the next round.

And why the fuck do I know when American Idol is on?

We’ve come to accept this type of cookie cutter drudgery in most of our art forms. Don’t even get me started on movies. Now, not everything is doom and gloom, for some quality entertainment I will gladly point you in the direction of the phenomenal western Deadwood and any movie done by Robert Rodriguez.
The problem is, the general public is not embracing this level of care and craftsmanship (for example Firefly) at the rate it’s flocking to The OC.
When Big Mommas House 2 spends 2 weeks as America’s #1 movie I can’t help but ask myself: When will we see another Python?

Also, Broadway is now mining Adam Sandler movies for material. This is surely the first sign.

So do I have a point? Not really. But you’re still reading this, so I’ll leave you with this:

I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay,
I sleep all night and I work all day.

CHORUS: He's a lumberjack, and he's okay,
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

I cut down trees, I eat my lunch,
I go to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays I go shoppin'
And have buttered scones for tea.

Mounties: He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch,
He goes to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays 'e goes shoppin'
And has buttered scones for tea.

CHORUS

I cut down trees, I skip and jump,
I like to press wild flowers.
I put on women's clothing,
And hang around in bars.

Rest easy Grahm, rest easy.