Archive for May, 2017

May 30, 2017

#130) How not to offend people #2: Terry Frei

“I am very uncomfortable with a Japanese driver winning the Indianapolis 500 during Memorial Day Weekend,” tweeted sports writer Terry Frei. Hopefully Mr. Frei will ease his discomfort by purchasing some quality shoes that will feel good on his feet while he is standing in the unemployment line.

After the backlash hit, the former Denver Post sports writer tried to walk it back in a manner that made Al Campanis’s 1987 Nightline appearance look articulate. (The Post didn’t buy it). I leave it to better bloggers than myself to debate whether Frei’s words are simply those of a mouthy malcontent or are a dire warning about throngs of racists who now feel emboldened by the current political climate to say whatever is on their mind. I can’t say either whether Frei is innocently operating on a vintage 1956 set of social mores (like Amy Schumer’s grandma in her “Generations” sketch or the “Women in the Workplace” bit from “Family Guy”) or, like someone who overdoes it on Taco Tuesday and then finds themselves stuck in a public place with no restroom in sight, just had to let it loose right then and there, consequences be damned. I really can’t say. When the waffle iron at the Holiday Inn breakfast bar has a sign saying that the griddle must be opened before the batter is to be poured in, it’s hard to make assumptions about peoples’ intelligence.

What I do know is that Frei took the bar for offending people to a new low. Sometimes there can be an upside to offending people. You might get a laugh; your brazenness might be appreciated; you might become the president. But Frei got nothing out of his racist tweet other than not having to worry about showing up to work with a Memorial Day hangover.  His predecessor in this series, Sergio Garcia, made a joke – albeit a wholly unoriginal one – at the expense of a rather self-serious target, Tiger Woods. (Who knows, perhaps there are a few people in the deep south who still soil themselves laughing over black people/fried chicken jokes). Frei could have at least have riffed on the stereotype about Asians being bad drivers and drawn a few cheap laughs on his way out the door. Or perhaps he could have drawn inspiration from Lisa Lampanelli, who built a career on over-the-top racial/ist humor: “Hey, Asian guy! That black guy’s not laughing. Throw a star at him.”

Being a lover of Holocaust humor (what’s the difference between a Jew and a boy scout?) when I see the name Frei, I immediately think of “Arbeit Macht Frei” (“Work will make you free”) – the phrase that was often seen at the gates to the concentration camps and sometimes shows up in Auschwitz selfies. Well, let’s just say that sportswriter Terry of Denver is now frei of his arbeit.

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May 15, 2017

#129) Book review: “Kasher in the Rye” by Moshe Kasher

You couldn’t make someone like Moshe Kasher up if you tried. Long before he became  a standup comic, guest star on “The League” and “Drunk History”, a writer and Mr. Natasha Leggero, he was, to quote his own description of his memoir, “A white boy from Oakland who became a drug addict, criminal, mental patient and then turned 16.” Thankfully, he recovered and not only lived to tell the tale, but did so in a way that is both moving and humorous.

Not surprisingly, the Moshe Kasher of “Kasher in the Rye” is a Holden Caulfield for our times. Add to that the libido of Alex Portnoy, a David Sedaris-esque attraction to depraved characters and two divorced deaf parents on opposite sides of the country and you begin to get a sense of what to expect.

Whether Kasher was one of the few white students at an inner city Oakland school or the only resident of an orthodox Jewish community in Brooklyn who didn’t read Yiddish, he was an outsider. “Somewhere along the line, I figured the more I made people laugh, the less of a loser I would be,” he notes. He thrived in the role of class clown until his poor grades caused the school to decide that he had a learning disability. “A fat teacher/clinician combo meal of a woman approached me in class and pulled me aside with the private solemnity of an army officiant charged with delivering the heartbreaking condolences to the next of kin…’You learn differently than other students. Everyone learns differently and there’s nothing wrong with that. Some people learn better with their ears.’ As she talked, she pointed to her ears just in case I wasn’t aware of what an ear was.”

Embarrassed by having to go to “the retarded portable”, Kasher sought recognition by the other school misfits. “I breathed a deep sigh of relief when they took me in. These were the first people in my life who weren’t asking me what was wrong with me. They didn’t give a fuck.” Kasher felt a similar relief the first time he got high: “Before I got high, I had no idea that’s what had been wrong the whole time. It wasn’t that I had deaf parents…that I was fat and retarded or crazy, angry, Jewish or anything else. I just needed to get high…parents and shrinks never tell you that you will forget all the reasons you had to hate yourself. They don’t tell you that shit because then everyone will want to get high.”

The constant search for that high caused Kasher to lie, steal and fight his way to rock bottom, described in a way that is both disturbing and insightful. “Temptation stacked against prudence….temptation conquers. That’s how it should work. How it actually does work is much scarier…when the thought to take a hit, hit, I simply forgot I was planning on quitting. I just forgot…no struggle. How are you supposed to combat that?”

Yet Kasher manages to infuse the story of his downward spiral with a wealth of humor, however dark it may be. “Cisco was for real men. Cisco was my favorite. A lethal sort of synthetic bum wine, it was made out of a combination of distilled Now and Laters, Ajax, and broken dreams. People called it Liquid Crack. I called it dinner.” En route to running up a phone sex bill in the thousands of dollars: “I ejaculated to both Trinidad and Tobago. I brought rivers of cum to drought-addled islands. I e-JAH-culated onto Rastafarian marijuana fields.” On his enrollment in an alternative high school: “Literally, the entire student body…with one notable, adorable, Jewish exception, was straight up retarded…some were just mildly retarded…with enough smarts to make you wonder, ‘Is he or isn’t he?’ and then you’d see them picking their nose in front of a cute girl and you’d think, ‘Ahhh! Of course!'”

“Kasher in the Rye” shares with its namesake the idea that even the most pain-in-the-ass,  unsympathetic adolescent male is still human, with emotions, wants and needs. Is it the responsibility of society, family and school to accommodate them or is it up to the individual? Kasher leaves the question open-ended, focusing on what worked for him, declining to speculate about what might work for others. One could argue that this book’s very existence, along with the reclaimed life of its author, shows that investing in troubled youth can pay off, no matter how long the odds may seem.

May 12, 2017

#128) Autopsy of an unfollow #4: Hey, “You Had One Job” – You had one job!

It’s time for another cautionary tale of a social media outlet that met a fate worse than death: the dreaded Unfollow!

Sometimes we need a humorous reminder that our life isn’t so bad and that we’re not the only ones who are idiots. A Facebook page called “You Had One Job” provided me with such reminders – until recently.

For a while, I’d enjoyed having my constant feed of kid pics and political fights broken up by the occasional picture of an intersection with “SOTP” painted in big white letters, cans of peaches labeled “TOMATOES” and the like. But “You Had One Job” stopped doing its one job.

As of the moment of my unfollowing, the last five posts on “You Had One Job” were:

  1. “25+ Crazy Tattoos That Will Twist your Mind”*
  2. “15 Hilarious Love Notes That Illustrate The Modern Relationship”
  3. “What If Guys Acted Like Girls On Instagram?”
  4. “Mom Sews Incredibly Accurate Costumes For Her Daughter To Wear At Disneyland”
  5. “Domestic Bliss: Mother Of Two Takes Darkly Humorous Family Photos

For me, it’s not so much that my desperate craving for photos of handicapped access railings going the opposite way of the staircase has been going more and more unfulfilled by “YHOJ” as it is that I’ve long been over-saturated by the type of content the site is sharing instead. I don’t want to see clever parenting. I want to see Storm Troopers coffee mugs in Paw Patrol packaging.

Would the novelty of “You Had One Job” worn off anyway? Possibly, but alas, I shall never know. The lesson: sometimes it’s better to be a one-trick pony, however niche that trick may be, than to become just another generic face in the social media crowd.

* Don’t even get me started on upstyle.