THERE GOES JOHNNY

THERE GOES JOHNNY

I don’t know what I can say about the passing of Johnny Carson that hasn’t been said already – and it’s only twenty-four hours since he drifted away from us. I was so taken aback when I heard of Mr. Carson’s death, as I’m sure many people were. I felt genuinely sad, as if someone in my own extended family had passed away. Then I realized I didn’t know the man at all – had never met him once in my entire life.

There is a myriad of things I don’t know and will never know about the late-night television guru. I can’t help but wonder, though – from the mundane, like – What was his favorite color? – To the profound, like – What made him tick? Of course, Johnny made it clear that he really didn’t want me (or anybody else outside of his immediate circle) to know any of that stuff. Moreover, he would probably have politely told me it was none of my business. He was right, of course.

Mr. Carson started hosting the “Tonight Show” just about the time I was old enough to stay up late once in a while without my parents’ knowing it. I would surreptitiously turn on the old black and white and let the grainy images and the slightly naughty jokes wash over me. This was my initiation into the fun aspect of being a grown-up. Johnny Carson seemed to imply that nothing was to be taken too seriously. We could safely make fun of just about anything. Yet he always managed to side step the most sensitive and vulnerable underbelly of the American psyche. He earned the title of “gentleman”.

In an odd way, he made me feel safe. This is a tall order in the wee small hours after we have been assaulted with a full day’s worth of troubles, both in our personal world and in the larger world. As a matter of fact, the “Tonight Show” followed on the very heels of the local news. We needed it badly as an antidote to all that violence and catastrophe. We still do.

The trouble is – Johnny’s gone. For the past twelve years we could all hope that maybe, somehow, he would return to us. It’s not that those other guys aren’t good – They are. But they’re different. Where Johnny’s message seemed to be, “The glass is half full. The world is messy and funny, but don’t worry, folks. We’ll get through it.” The message today seems to be, “The glass is half empty. The world is falling apart. You might as well laugh before the glass is totally drained”. Both will make you laugh, but only one will make you feel better for it.

Maybe Johnny left when he did because he sensed the sea change coming. Maybe he felt that the world would no longer be a place of easy laughter. Or maybe he left because he was simply tired. Thirty years is a long time to hold up the world.

We’ve missed you for twelve years, Mr. Carson. Now all we can do is thank you, and wish you God speed.

© 2005, Robin Munson

MORE BORCHING ABOUT TV

MORE BORCHING ABOUT TV

I will confess to you that I am a TV junkie. And when I say, “junkie”, I mean that in every sense of the word. The stuff on TV is, in fact, junk.

I grew up on TV. Stop me if I’ve told this one before – I mean I cut my teeth on “I Love Lucy”, “Jack Benny”, “George Burns and Gracie Allen”, “Sergeant Bilco”, “The Life of Riley”, “The Honeymooners”, “I Married Joan”, “September Bride”, “Your Show of Shows”. Later on there were the likes of “The Danny Thomas Show”, “That Girl”, “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, “M.A.S.H.”, “Bob Newhart”, “All In The Family”, and “Bill Cosby”. Do you get a pattern here? My favorite shows were always comedy. Situation comedy, mostly, but always – comedy. I loved to laugh. Doesn’t everyone?

Well, apparently not. At least, not anymore.

I don’t know what has happened to TV. Somewhere between my thirties and my fifties, either we, as a nation, lost our sense of humor, or the best joke writers died off, or someone changed the rules of comedy on me, or – I just don’t know. Frankly, I’m stumped.

Of course, all of this did not happen overnight. Up until (was it last year?) we had “Frasier” and “Friends”. Admittedly, both of those had gotten a little bit tired by the end of their run, but both of them had at least a few years of being truly witty, fun to watch, and even touching. But it seems to me that there was a cut-off point in 2000. The change seems to parallel the change in Washington. In the ‘90s we had Bill Clinton – liberal, it’s true, but also casual in his manner, brilliant in his speech, human, perhaps all-too-human in his foibles, a combination of the “down-home” Arkansas country boy and the Rhodes scholar. Bill Clinton could laugh at himself, and we could laugh with him. Then we had George Bush. A conservative, it’s true, but also rigid in manner, fumbling in speech, and seemingly unwilling or unable to be comfortable with his own human foibles, a combination of the “good ol’ boy” from Texas and the effete privileged-class mediocre Yalie. He’s just not funny. (I’m sorry – Is my political slip showing? I try to be “fair and balanced”, but I know I utterly fail).

Well, it seems to me that the political change in climate has produced a change in the entertainment climate. In the last few nights we’ve been flipping the channels, desperately seeking some form of amusement that at least would not annoy us. What have we found? Endless news analysis of the battle in Fallujah. Reruns of “Fresh Prince of Bel-air”. People pricing their antiques. Morbidly obese men and women trying to lose weight. Graphic shots of throat surgery – this is served up as light fare. Murders. Cops. More murders. More cops. Scantily clad women singing badly. Hollywood gossip. And a surprising frequency of appearances by Osama Bin Laden, of all people. (Why do we keep giving this man press?!)

What this country needs is a good, healthy, belly laugh. As a matter of fact, we need lots of them to make up for the laughs we haven’t been getting in the past four years. And I don’t mean the kind of laughs that can only be had at someone else’s expense (the kind that are created by shows about “Bloopers” and video clips of people getting kicked in the butt). I mean the kind of laughs that remind us all how truly human we are. The kind of laughs that remind us that, to paraphrase Rick in Casablanca, the troubles of a few hundred million little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this world.

If the current crop of TV shows is “reality”, then give me delusional fantasy any day. Better yet, give me a good book. The trouble is – I’m a TV junkie, so I’ll probably keep watching and hoping that one day it will be the “good old days” again.

Does anyone know if there is a 12-step group for TV addicts out there anywhere?

© 2004, Robin Munson