Live from New York: It’s Friday Evening

Musings of an Anxious Millennial Writer #16: SNL, MSM, LOL, GTG

I wasn't really planning on writing about Saturday Night Live. Not never on this page, but at very least not right now. Here's the thing, when it comes to my own nostalgia, SNL plays a pretty big role. A huge one, if I'm being quite honest. It's one of the things that defined most of my life. My freshman year of high school coincided with the release of the hardcover Live from New York: An Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live, which I toted around with me like it was the bible. Because to me, it WAS. Except I didn't ever carry the actual bible around with me, despite my many years of Catholic school, but this I did. A girl in my homeroom even asked me if it was the Bible; I'm not sure how she missed the photos of Jon Lovitz and Gilda Radner on the cover. She then said "So, you're like reading that whole thing? You like to read, huh?" And yeah, I did, but that wasn't the point. I wasn't sitting and reading through it cover-to-cover, I was flipping to random segments and absorbing them, getting inspiration from whatever chapter I happened to land on, and learning more about the craft of writing sketch comedy. It would be hard for any 14-year-old girl to understand, but SNL was in my blood.

I didn't just find Saturday Night Live funny, it had imprinted on my sense of self and formed so much of who I was at a formative time in my life (that likely did not garner me any "cool" points, of which I was already at a severe deficit). At some point a few years earlier in junior high, I started carrying around a small, fuzzy leopard notebook in which I would write the funniest, most absurd thoughts I had (and would force many of my friends to do the same), in an effort to replicate “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey.” Eventually, one of my "friends" at the time would get frustrated by the constant scribbling and critiquing of funny ideas, and take it upon herself to toss the notebook in the trash when I wasn't looking. She would, in adulthood, turn out to not only be a raging bitch, but a full-fledged nazi, too. She probably likes SNL a lot now.

Ok, I jumped way too far ahead there (and far too into the deep end), but there had to be a reason why this is the topic I've chosen to talk about this time. Surely, it couldn't be because of just a fond recollection of my memories of the nearly 50-year-old television program. 

If you’ve been keeping up, you probably know that Shane Gillis hosted SNL last week. Shane Gillis, for those who don't know (of which I'd probably be one too since I'm woefully behind on current comedy, mostly because of guys like Shane Gillis), but in 2019 he was fired from SNL the day of his casting announcement after some racist comments he made on a podcast surfaced. It wasn't deep in his past, and he was never really remorseful, and—as cancel culture so often does—it sidelined him for just enough time to make people "discover" him based on their shared views (even if those aren’t technically a part of his comedy routine), and then launched him far further into celebrity, garnering a Netflix series green-light and allowing him a chance to host Saturday Night Live, instead of just continuing to be a bit player on the show, as he likely would have been had said racist comments not surfaced.

Of course, my Twitter feed was flooded with folks on both sides of the debate, pro-Shane and anti-Shane, sharing their feelings on the decision to have him host. And, as it did when Donald Trump hosted many moons ago, a goal was achieved: it meant people were actually talking about Saturday Night Live.  

I, like many lapsed SNL fans, have not actively watched the show in real-time in many years. I realize this means I'm probably not the person who should vocalize my opinions on it, but alas, here I am. Because you can’t stop me, it’s my exercise in free speech. At some point in late high school/early college, my affinity for the show waned, due in large part to Jimmy Fallon's presence on it. Then, as it is with many, I stopped watching because, at 11:30 PM on a Saturday, I was more likely to be found touching grass rather than watching basic cable ("touching grass," in this sense, being an allegory for consuming a frosty beverage or, presently, likely snuggled away under my comforter for a long winter's nap). I didn't "move on" from SNL out of any sort of comedic superiority or even an act of protest, I just have better things to do (or not do) on a Saturday night.

I think the last few times I made a real, concerted effort to tune in live was when Chris Rock hosted for the first time, with Prince as the musical guest. This happened again when Eddie Murphy hosted for the first time since the '80s. I enjoyed both, but not enough to keep me coming back week after week. 

That also meant that I was definitely not going to tune in, even out of "morbid curiosity" for Shane's hosting gig, just as I wouldn't for Donald's turn on the stage, nor Elon's. Shane might not deserve to hold space with the latter two, but the folks who rush to his defense do so in the same manner they run, swords high, to die on the hills of their rich white “martyrs,” acting as paragons of the First Amendment. 

Saturday Night Live hasn’t issued a statement on why they brought Shane back to host. And they don’t have to. They’re just a sketch comedy show and he’s just a comedian; could I make it any more obvious? I think folks want an explanation to get angry over, there’s an assumption that all basic cable shows are left-leaning, likely from years of Fox News yelling at everyone all the time that anything that isn’t them is far left of the dial. And maybe there’s some truth to that, but it's in the least radical of senses, as right-wingers get their tightie-whities in a bunch over footage of Seth Meyers eating ice cream with Joe Biden, trying to present him as a man of the people, while he casually riffs on the possibility of a ceasefire in ongoing American-funded ethnic cleansing. SNL being a vanguard of “both sidism” gives the masses what they want; right-wing vindication, left-wing outrage, and “middle of the road” smugness.

Here’s the thing, though. SNL doesn't have to be a source of political progress, it never really was. Their attempts at political humor were always on the most surface of levels—Bill's a horn dog, George is an idiot, Donny boy's got orange hair and duck lips. To get offended by any of the political humor is to have the thinnest of skins imaginable. It's the MSM's wet dream—distill political jabs into the most baseline understanding of human beings, and ignore any of the actual political or human rights issues at play. It lets folks like Alec Baldwin continue to be a voice for the “radical” left when he’s not otherwise occupied by shooting people on set. 

At some point in my teenage years, consumed by reruns of Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn and early morning tune-ins to The Opie and Anthony Show, I took a trip into the darkest depths of Cringe Humor, interacting on the message boards, and watching Rich Vos comedy specials. I learned from fans and comedians of this ilk alike that it was easy to be unfunny—all you had to do was be a liberal or a woman. Being funny meant being "taboo," taking jabs at those who might not have the means to defend themselves; punching down was what made you cool. To me, a socially inept young woman, it meant that laughing at others might lift my social cred. It didn’t. It didn’t get me any dudes, either. But, it did give me a reason to laugh at myself first and foremost, for better or for worse. 

Over time, this type of comedy would stop working for me. There are only so many times you can hear variations on the same anti-fat, anti-disabled, racist, and otherwise offensive jokes before it just becomes white (emphasis on the white) noise. The punches hurt more than the punchlines, and you’re left wondering if you’re laughing because it’s funny, or because not laughing would make you the butt of the joke. 

There’s an excellent case study on what makes a joke acceptable or too taboo, as demonstrated in one of my favorite episodes of The Chris Gethard Show. It’s a masterclass on how you can be edgy without punching down. Gethard himself, along with several other comedians over the years, have also demonstrated how someone can be real, honest, raw, tender, AND make you laugh; comedy need not be ugly or nasty to be funny. Once you also realize that you can be just as "offensive" and edgy in your comedy while punching up against the oppressors, you start to understand the pervasive function of comedy: to challenge the systems that kept people down for so long. Comedy, like punk rock, can be a powerful tool in the fight against the proletariat. It's taboo in the most pure sense of the word—it challenges the mainstream. And there’s nothing more mainstream than electoral politics. 

And that’s the thing, the self-proclaimed white male minority so often wants to believe they’re NOT the mainstream. That they needed a “voice for the voiceless” to yell on their already-vocal-with-minimal-repercussions behalf. They gained (or rather, maintained) not only a majority voice in politics, but the fucking presidency; making racist, homophobic, ableist jokes became not just the norm, but the "approved" thing to do. You cannot be a vanguard and also hold the highest political power, but Trump did a good job of letting people feel their rights were getting taken away while echoing their awful sentiments from the highest seat of power. Because what the folks who have historically benefitted the most really want, is to be the victim, even if it’s only by their own perception. And sure, they can still consider themselves victims of the “woke mob,” but what they can’t do is call themselves is cool. You can't be cool and like the president, you’re just a mark.

But, ultimately, the main function of comedy is to be fucking funny. And guys like Shane Gillis just aren't. It's razy lacism at its best, people only laugh because they feel like they'll be yelled at for liking it, anti-woke mobsters can have wet dreams at the thought of getting to be considered the victims they so badly want to be, while liberals can point all their efforts at some shlub like Gillis, giggling at his use of the r-word in private while yelling at non-white, disabled voters for refusing to vote blue no matter who. Ultimately, Gillis will be fine even if his monologue flopped, but the comedians who take issues with his bullshit will be under tireless taunts from his fans. Because defending a middling comedian is the only form of an organized movement they can ever get behind. 

Comedy doesn't have to be challenging. It just needs to be funny. For a long time, SNL hasn't been either. It’s just comfort food because, at the end of the day, change is scary. But, for me, it was always at its best when it was my comfort food. And that means when it’s at its most dumb, absurd, and irreverent. 

That said, the Please Don't Destroy guys are funny. 

And, of course, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. A list of some of my favorite SNL moments: