Where The Rubber Meets The Road

If you’ve never seen South Park, you’re missing the only heir to the long-vacated throne of satire. Not since All In The Family and The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour has a show unflinchingly taken on a sleeping public and the completely ludicrous horseshit they allow to pass unchecked.

If you think South Park is just fart jokes and foulmouthed cartoon (third and)fourth graders, then you are not paying attention. Take the episode, “Christians Are Retarded” for example.

The main thrust of the episode revolves around new Disney teen music sensations, the Jonas Brothers, and the rise in teen stars wearing “purity rings” (meaningless symbols of a commitment to remaining a virgin that fail 80% of the time) and running their callow mouths about their overly developed sense of pride in their overly valued virginity. The South Park boys (Matt and Trey, not Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Eric) then let it rip when Mickey Mouse stops by to rough up the Jonas Brothers and explain (in his trademark high-pitched voice and “huh-ha” laugh) to them why their misguided desire to ditch the purity rings will not be tolerated:

“Oh, gosh, fellas. Let me explain this to you one more time. You have to wear the purity rings, because that’s how we can sell sex to little girls. See, if we make the posters with little girls reaching for your junk (Here a typical band poster shows the Jonas Brothers on stage with the aforementioned not-too-subtle hands reaching out from the crowd toward their gyrating hips), then you have to wear purity rings, or else Disney Company looks bad.”

Later, when the (cartoon character) South Park boys try to stop the madness before it claims their friend Kenny, Mickey blows his stack and rants to the boys and the Jonas Brothers:

“You think God is in control here?!? I am in control! I’ve been in control since the fifties, in case you haven’t noticed! You three faggots (Jonas Brothers) are going on stage, and you three faggots (Stan, Kyle, and Eric) aren’t going to stop me! Nobody is ruining this event! I have worked too long and too hard to have anybody to fuck this up! Where would you be without me, Jonas Brothers? Your music sucks and you know it! It’s because you make little girls’ gineys tickle. And when little girls’ gineys tickle, I make money. And that’s because little girls are fucking stupid! And the purity rings make it okay to do whatever I want! Even the Christians are too fucking stupid to figure out I’m selling sex to their daughters! I’ve made billions off of Christian ignorance for decades. And do you know why?!? Because Christians are re-tard-ed. They believe in a talking dead guy!”

While it’s important for kids to have positive role models, those role models should be their parents. If not, then something is wrong, and Disney is hardly the best choice for a replacement – and a heavy-handed, force-fed replacement at that. The cynical profiteering off religious fervor and just plain ignorance has long been a cardinal sin of organized religion. Companies like Disney are even worse, and for once, someone pointed it out. And that’s why South Park is still relevant.

Tragically – and far too often – humankind would rather assure mediocrity than risk greatness.

To do the title proper justice, you must say it aloud with the Keanu-Reeves-vapid-surfer-boy accent.

Many years ago, I studied martial arts, specifically American Kempo (Kenpo) Karate, a style derived from a style derived from the Kenpo Karate style, a synthesis of Chinese, Japanese, and Okinawan martial arts. The style I studied was less a “style” and more a hodgepodge of various martial arts, and though the instruction was superb, I quickly tired of the blended styles. (The place where I studied has since streamlined their approach, breaking off from the “chain” mentality and “belt factories/McDojos” of most American martial arts studios, ala Karate America.

For those of you that don’t know, “McDojos” are schools that teach little more than choreographed calisthenics, have dozens of levels (belts – some even make up new ones, like “camouflage belt”. This is true*.) and charge progressively more for each, advance students beyond their abilities to soak up more “testing” money, and generally keep this pattern up until the student either becomes part of the swindle, or wises up and finds a real school.

Anyway, back to blended styles, or “mixed martial arts”. Some argue that it’s wise to incorporate styles that play to the current style’s weaknesses, and some further argue that this is how martial arts evolved in the first place. I don’t care. I wanted a style that was pure – that is, no one had lumped several together in the last fifty years without enough shake-down time to streamline them. So, I found one.
In terms of it’s application in self-defense situations, martial arts (put simply) is the retraining of reflexes to have more appropriate reactions to threats. That is, rather than duck and cover, you instead block, parry, trap, and/or strike.
Of course, it’s much more than that. But a blended style incorporates movements from other styles, and those movements don’t always mesh. Hard and soft styles, linear and circular movements – the muscles remember these, and reflex moves them at a speed useful to self-defense. But when the muscles are made to move counter to the prescribed movement, reflex is slow or nonexistent. Put simply, if you have to think about it, it’s already too late.
Practitioners of blended styles have to work longer and harder to reap the benefits of the system, but “pure” or unified styles require less. It’s a matter of taste, and my tastes run toward the traditional when it comes to martial arts.

So, I joined a school that uses the Orville Redenbacher approach, and am hard at work unlearning what I have, and learning what I want. Also, shedding about thirty pounds, but that’s not the point.
The point is, however infinitesimal the amount, I know kung fu. My kung fu will be strong. I will be ready for a challenge. Your kung fu will not impress me. I will fight you for the honor of my master. All five hundred and twenty-three of you. One at a time. Let the cheesy special effects and corny cinematic noises begin!

*Note: I am totally ripping off Dave Barry, here.

Yes, it may be old news, but it should be required viewing for every student in the United States of America. If this doesn’t impress upon them the importance of education, nothing will:

There are a lot of aspects to comedy that are hidden to the public eye. Chief among them is the subtle dance between comic and booking agency.

For the uninformed: in comedy, “agency” means different things at different levels. At the level of the “development deal” comedian, who is on the cusp of breaking out with a movie or television show, or at any level above, an agent works in the conventional way. That is, they work to make their client the maximum amount of money in order to reap the maximum percentage.
However, for the rank-and-file comics who slug it out on the road, the agents represent the clubs. In some cases, agencies control territories, and any comic wishing to work it that part of the country is almost required to go through the agency that wields power there. The agents acquire new rooms, and the rooms pay the agency to stock the rooms with comics. Pay for comics is invariably worked out between agencies and clubs, with no input from comics. The only “choice” left to comics is whether or not to work for the agency.
Sort of.

The aforementioned dance is ritual of money and position. A comic who approaches an agency with a wide-open schedule and an accepting-all-work attitude is doomed from the start to be lowballed and stuck at one (very low) level for a very, very long time. The “dance” offers more risk, but much greater reward. The comic must present a casual and indifferent air toward the work itself, but an amiable and (somewhat) devoted face toward the agency who offers the work. A sort of, “I need you – I don’t need you” back-and-forth.

The agencies hold the power at the “road comic” level, and a comic must be very clever, careful, and precise in order to wring concessions from them. From the perspective of the agency, one headliner is (essentially) as good as another. To be sure, a “draw” (comic who’s name on the marquee alone fills the room) is more valuable than the average headliner, but in most cases, they are interchangeable, and – unfortunately for the comics – more than ample. Thus, each comic must make a case that they are better than the multitude of others, when the truth is more likely that they are no better or worse. Since agencies deal with hundreds – sometimes thousands – of headliners, this is a difficult case to make, and even more difficult to “prove”.

Steve Martin once said of reaching stardom as a comic, “Be so good they can’t ignore you.” When Martin first said this, it was true. During his rise as a comedian, it was true. But no longer.
There is no longer such a thing as “so good they can’t ignore you.” Yes, they can. And they will. If you let them.

Thus, the dance. A slow, painful, time-consuming, and emotionally draining dance. I hear the music every day.