People never cease to surprise. Every once in a while, here and there, somebody will open their mouth in my direction and proceed to spill out a gem of pure retardedry. After the initial dumbfounded reaction passes, I may grow inspired. Next thing you know, thanks to an absurd statement made by an otherwise harmless fella with a little water on the brain, I have a column on my hands. Finally, societal stupidity works for me, rather than against.

It should be noted, the offender in question is a friend, outside of comedy, and he has an exceptional I.Q. He’s accountable. No excuses. Anyway, I’m running some material by him- nothing too obscure, easily accessible stuff. His critique was inexcusable. He said the writing was great and all but if I want to sell it to the general public I should dumb it down. Mind you, he’s an outsider to comedy, not a Last Comic Standing judge. His demeanor was sincere. He was serious. I had given him too much credit as a human being.

For years, he would relentlessly mock, antagonize and bitch about every stupid person he came into contact with. Now he’s suggesting that I, not unlike Pam Anderson, spread the disease. No dice, dick face. You can’t complain about frustrating idiocy in everyday life then encourage someone else to plant seeds of ignorance and water the existing crop. Get yourself another patsy. I have too much…(not money, what’s the other thing)…integrity. I was sort of irked by his belligerence, but it got me thinking. I wonder what the future will be like if the number of comics that were in it for the right reasons- like being uncompromisingly funny while sticking to their true style- what if these righteous misfits became outnumbered by the type of comic that would take such tainted advice? Let’s just call it what it is, badvice.

As I am well aware, dumb people are inescapable. They’re at work, school, shows, practically everywhere. The only place you won’t find them are places that are tricky to track on the map. If they can get to your town via a straight line, they’re a comin’. However, the optimist in me needs to believe that a slight majority of society is, at the very least, semi-intelligent and equipped with common sense. My faith in that sentiment sometimes becomes shaken.

I’m not gloating, here. Believe me, I’ve had my moments. I think it might of have had something to do with falling out of a moving vehicle when I was two, or maybe it has something to do with the same thing happening when I was five. I’m not pointing any fingers here, Mom. It was the Eighties, before all that car seat hysteria dictated policy. Point is, I’m somewhat intelligent but I do some really stupid shit. Like the time I accidentally sprayed myself in the face with black spray paint or the time I (not)accidentally sprayed myself with the pepper spray that happened to be dangling from my Mom’s keychain, hanging from the unattended ignition. Perhaps it was insensitive of me to refer to the weapon as anti-rape spray. I deserved to burn. Burn I did. Then I ran into a room where my Dad was with about a dozen of his buddies; blithering and panicking like someone that had just tripped off of the mini-bus, crying about my self-inflicted eye melting. The pride he must of felt. I’ve had plenty of Ralph Wiggum moments. I consider myself smart and stupid. Which is why I can be un-biased when I say that smart is better. It’s the kind of World I want to live in.

The alternative scares the herpes out of me. Don’t judge, just imagine the hijinx we’ll be in for once Fox News and Wal-Mart and MTV and American Idol and America’s Got Talons officially take over. The smart people will have to band together in barricaded safe-houses, listening to Radiohead and playing Scrabble until it’s safe to go outside again. It will be a much simpler time. Pesky shoe tying will be a thing of the past! No more stick shifts!! One utensil for EVERYTHING!!! “This many” will become an official unit of currency measure. The streets will be littered with the aloof, as they walk their leashed children to McDonald’s for a sausage sammich. While we’re at it, no more Jeopardy. Think you’re better than me, huh? Bye-bye, Trebek. You’ve shared your final Final Jeopardy clue.

It’s a reality that can very well be right around the corner. While I’m sure that me and most of the comics I enjoy and respect will not succumb with compromise, I can’t say the same for other comics I know personally or some of the mainstream acts that hack it up in return for a handsome living. For the sake of example, I’ll give names but I must alter their identity. Sob Baget and Ben Bailey (I flipped Bailey’s initials, too, in case you were wondering). Saget has a decent brain. It gets plenty of rest, 90% of the time Bob’s on camera. His contribution to America’s Funniest Home Videos caused me intense, crippling depression when I was but a boy. How rude (? like little Michelle used to say in that other show Saget shat on). Playing the game, subscribing to the “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”” mentality has made Robert substantially wealthy. Nauseously wealthy. Excuse me…(dry heaves of bitter jealousy ensue for many exaggerated minutes)- he has cashed in considerably, but at what price? You part from your precious money at death, greatness lasts forever. Nostradamus is still a pretty great guy, even if he can’t spell Hitler.

Speaking of Hitler, Cash Cab’s Ben Bailey makes no effort to hide the fact that he isn’t the lisping, autistic sounding dingus that he personifies in his stand-up act. More people know him from the Discovery Channel, so they know he’s sharp. Then he goes on stage and his split personality, which happens to have an unhardened soft spot, takes hold. I think he’s playing both sides for all he can get. Put on a good show to get the nerds at Discovery in his favor during the day, dumb it down at dusk for lazy crowds, go home, yell at the dog as a venting mechanism, cry in the shower, go to sleep, get up the next day and repeat. That’s how Ben Bailey must roll.

Other than this spiel, my friends comment had little effect on me. If anything, it had an adverse effect. I’m going to ignore the temptation to have an automatic success of a set by feeding dimmer crowds my easier material. I’m going to joke about the Gold Standard and Corporate Welfare in Crenshaw. Not to imply that the Shaw is slow. Please don’t shoot me.

As far as my material writing is concerned, I’m never going to be afraid to articulate my point of view or to make a joke a little longer in order to make it better. Fuck whoever’s impotent attention span I’m failing to placate. Fuck it with a spoon, whatever that means. It’s sad that “alternative” usually serves as code for “smart”. Why should smart have to settle for being the alternative? Obviously, that contradicts our Nation’s intentions, seeing how we have an educational system and all.

There are signs of hope. Rock group The Scorpions are releasing a “Goodbye” album, with a promised band-wide suicide to follow. Thanks, guys. I think what I get from the 30% of the smartly funny comics and regular folk I encounter conquers the other 70%, comprised mainly of Jackassholes. Which is comforting. If you experience similar frustrations, then build a wall of interesting people around you and pretend that the rest of the planet is okay. There’s only so much you can do to help the comfortably numb. In the immortal words of Franky the mute, “let the clowns hang themselves with silly string”.