Hell to the Chief

The press is still mumbling about Steven Colbert’s performance last Saturday. I use the word mumbling because it’s almost like they want to discuss it, but quietly so no one sees them. It’s hysterical to watch as the cheer or jeer him and then change the subject quickly. They are dieing to talk about it, and yet it’s almost like they are not allowed. Poor media, still so scared to get fired to do the job they were hired to do. I wonder how much of my integrity I’d give up for a paycheck like they get. Would I get into my car with the expensive insignia wonder and if I owned it, or it owned me. I don’t think I’ll ever know, and I’m a bit thankful for that. Not too much, I was still raised to be a consumer whore. And How!

Well, in any case, I’ll talk about it. That was the most uncomfortable twenty minutes I have seen since Andy Kaufman did his wrestling matches. It was like telling stories about how your grandmother had peed herself last Christmas and didn’t know it, then seeing her standing in the doorway as you get to the punch line. Except what he did was no accident. It was clever, it was biting, it was hysterical, it was true, and it was just damn mean. I love Colbert, I love his work, and I agreed with every thing he said. I’m damn glad it was said and that he heard, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was mean and it lowered him in my eyes.

Perhaps the only way to stop a bully is to punch in the face and make him cry in front of everyone. Still, it takes his dignity, and it makes you no better then him. If you like what Colbert did, you should thank him. Thank him because I think he just gave up a lot of respect to show us something. He showed us that it’s not the least bit funny, because it’s true.