A Critical Analysis
"Comedy, in many ways, is the essence of life. For without humor, without joy, there can be no true happiness.
-Robert Frost
Part I
Comedy. It's been around for literally dozens of years. In all it's forms, it's essence is essentially to selfless give another a brief moment of happiness that they wouldn't have otherwise had. Because of this, comedy may be one of the noblest art forms in human history, in that while many art forms require a visual, tactile, or otherwise physical representation, comedy can be malleable enough to bent to whatever format may be deemed necessary. For instance, to make a person sitting next to you laugh, you could, for instance, make a funny face, tickle them, or tell them a good joke. The end result is the same. They look at you funny and move to another seat.
However, there is one art form that rises above all others. It encompasses not only the visual, but the physical, and if executed properly, even perhaps the aural.
That's right, I'm talking about the watching a man get kicked in the balls.
Dating back to approximately 30,000 B.C., watching one man kick another in the potatoes is a guaranteed laugh. Around 37 A.D., this core behavior was named, by Emperor Tiberius, "testicleas crushicus". Ironically, Tiberius was killed due to repeated blows to his cojones from his successor, Caligula. In an interesting side note, Caligula actually named his own balls "Romulus" and "Remus".
However, it wasn't until 1966, (not long after his appearance in "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum") that Buster Keaton, going by the pseudonym "Buster the Magnificent", appeared only once at the Aurora Ampitheater in Aurora, Illinois. A visibly intoxicated Keaton proceeded to ask "Who wantsta do a bit with Uncle Buster?" to a confused and hostile crowd. He proceeded to get a 12-year old boy on stage, and paid the boy a dollar to kick him as hard as he could in the croth. The boy was obviously shaken, and cried for the next 37 minutes while kicking a completely silent, stone-faced Keaton in his wedding tackle. However, the crowd loved it.
Since that fateful day, many have come close to creating the ultimate realization of the "nut-buster". Honorable mention must go to Mr. Bob Saget, who, with his "America's Funniest Home Videos", singlehandedly jammed the idea of smashing a baseball bat into your neighbor's nards down a gleeful public's throat. And to be sure, the public swallowed.
Part II
Which brings us to the real meat and potatoes of this discussion. For the past 19 hours, I have been replaying 3 minutes of video footage over and over. My girlfriend has left me, calling what I was doing "a little gay". Maybe it is, but I feel that this piece of footage is the penultimate realization of the train of events that was begun those many centuries ago, when one neanderthal looked at another, and bashed his berries with a blunt club.
For two seasons, a television program and live comedy show existed. It was called "Anything After 10". It played in the back of a video store to a rapturous crowd, surging with the same kind of energy that coursed through Thomas Edison's lab assistants or that swirled around William Zabka on the set of The Karate Kid. The air was electric, as was the comedy. And the popcorn machine.
One evening, at around 11:17, a sketch began. The setup is witty, but requires only a brief explanation. Robert Frost has died, and it is revealed that his brother, who is quite insane, has been writing all his poetry in exchange for being allowed to kick Robert in the balls on his birthday. Oh yeah, and Robert Frost may have been a pedophile who fucked John M.F. Kennedy.
And then it begins...
Cue R.E.M.'s masterpiece "Bad Day", and we see Robert Frost. Played with comedic genius second only to Richard Jeni, Ben Moore's performance is laced with a certain sadness, a glint in his eye that you only see in performers like Ed Harris in "Pollock", or perhaps hardcore pornography.
Playing opposite him is the manic glee of Rian Anderson. Fully encompassing the drive and nearly out of control focus that only manic auteurs such as David Lynch, Luis Bunuel, or Elayne Boozler possess.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Anderson (who I shall from here on refer to as "Frost") sneaks up and bashes Moore (who I'll refer to as "Frost") hard with his size 11's, right in the twig and berries. So it begins...
I've been playing this tape back over and over and over and over. As far as I can tell, it's perfect, simply becuase it follows and exemplifies all the rules. The first is that variety is crucial. While 100 of the same kick would still be hilarious, you need a change, something unexpected, to really push the limits. For instance, when a man walks out from a pizzaria to give Frost a slice of pizza, Frost thanks him, and then the pizza boy kicks Frost in the Christmas Ornaments. We then see the other Frost give the boy a dollar. The second rule is that you need the kicker to have a reaction, which Frost does with manic glee. Thirdly, you have to kick them hard, otherwise it doesn't hurt as much, and isn't as funny.
Locations change, timing differs, but one thing remains. I love watching Frost get kicked in the nuts. I mean, really love it. I haven't bathed in almost a day. I've eaten only toejam and Andy Capp's Hot Fries, despite the fact that the fridge is about 15 feet away. I started out a teetotaler, and now I'm lit to the gills on paint fumes and malt liquor. I feel like Martin Sheen in the early scenes of "Apocolypse Now". I have killed the cat. I have no reason to do this, but I have killed the cat and eaten it so that I may have it's life force for my own.
Help me. Help me stop this. It's perfect, like the geometry of a snowflake that gets you addicted to opium. This is what the beauty of perfect testicular-pain based comedy can do to a man. I am a burnt out husk of what I once was. Like Icarus, I've flown too high with this "Ringu" of ball busters. And flying too close to the sun can not only give you severe melanoma, it can make you feel like you've been kicked in the balls.
Oh, and check out "Anything After 10". It's really funny, and you can rent it for Plan 9 Video in Bloomington.
And I wrote that Robert Frost quote that started the article, so fuck you.
-Robert Frost
Part I
Comedy. It's been around for literally dozens of years. In all it's forms, it's essence is essentially to selfless give another a brief moment of happiness that they wouldn't have otherwise had. Because of this, comedy may be one of the noblest art forms in human history, in that while many art forms require a visual, tactile, or otherwise physical representation, comedy can be malleable enough to bent to whatever format may be deemed necessary. For instance, to make a person sitting next to you laugh, you could, for instance, make a funny face, tickle them, or tell them a good joke. The end result is the same. They look at you funny and move to another seat.
However, there is one art form that rises above all others. It encompasses not only the visual, but the physical, and if executed properly, even perhaps the aural.
That's right, I'm talking about the watching a man get kicked in the balls.
Dating back to approximately 30,000 B.C., watching one man kick another in the potatoes is a guaranteed laugh. Around 37 A.D., this core behavior was named, by Emperor Tiberius, "testicleas crushicus". Ironically, Tiberius was killed due to repeated blows to his cojones from his successor, Caligula. In an interesting side note, Caligula actually named his own balls "Romulus" and "Remus".
However, it wasn't until 1966, (not long after his appearance in "A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum") that Buster Keaton, going by the pseudonym "Buster the Magnificent", appeared only once at the Aurora Ampitheater in Aurora, Illinois. A visibly intoxicated Keaton proceeded to ask "Who wantsta do a bit with Uncle Buster?" to a confused and hostile crowd. He proceeded to get a 12-year old boy on stage, and paid the boy a dollar to kick him as hard as he could in the croth. The boy was obviously shaken, and cried for the next 37 minutes while kicking a completely silent, stone-faced Keaton in his wedding tackle. However, the crowd loved it.
Since that fateful day, many have come close to creating the ultimate realization of the "nut-buster". Honorable mention must go to Mr. Bob Saget, who, with his "America's Funniest Home Videos", singlehandedly jammed the idea of smashing a baseball bat into your neighbor's nards down a gleeful public's throat. And to be sure, the public swallowed.
Part II
Which brings us to the real meat and potatoes of this discussion. For the past 19 hours, I have been replaying 3 minutes of video footage over and over. My girlfriend has left me, calling what I was doing "a little gay". Maybe it is, but I feel that this piece of footage is the penultimate realization of the train of events that was begun those many centuries ago, when one neanderthal looked at another, and bashed his berries with a blunt club.
For two seasons, a television program and live comedy show existed. It was called "Anything After 10". It played in the back of a video store to a rapturous crowd, surging with the same kind of energy that coursed through Thomas Edison's lab assistants or that swirled around William Zabka on the set of The Karate Kid. The air was electric, as was the comedy. And the popcorn machine.
One evening, at around 11:17, a sketch began. The setup is witty, but requires only a brief explanation. Robert Frost has died, and it is revealed that his brother, who is quite insane, has been writing all his poetry in exchange for being allowed to kick Robert in the balls on his birthday. Oh yeah, and Robert Frost may have been a pedophile who fucked John M.F. Kennedy.
And then it begins...
Cue R.E.M.'s masterpiece "Bad Day", and we see Robert Frost. Played with comedic genius second only to Richard Jeni, Ben Moore's performance is laced with a certain sadness, a glint in his eye that you only see in performers like Ed Harris in "Pollock", or perhaps hardcore pornography.
Playing opposite him is the manic glee of Rian Anderson. Fully encompassing the drive and nearly out of control focus that only manic auteurs such as David Lynch, Luis Bunuel, or Elayne Boozler possess.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Anderson (who I shall from here on refer to as "Frost") sneaks up and bashes Moore (who I'll refer to as "Frost") hard with his size 11's, right in the twig and berries. So it begins...
I've been playing this tape back over and over and over and over. As far as I can tell, it's perfect, simply becuase it follows and exemplifies all the rules. The first is that variety is crucial. While 100 of the same kick would still be hilarious, you need a change, something unexpected, to really push the limits. For instance, when a man walks out from a pizzaria to give Frost a slice of pizza, Frost thanks him, and then the pizza boy kicks Frost in the Christmas Ornaments. We then see the other Frost give the boy a dollar. The second rule is that you need the kicker to have a reaction, which Frost does with manic glee. Thirdly, you have to kick them hard, otherwise it doesn't hurt as much, and isn't as funny.
Locations change, timing differs, but one thing remains. I love watching Frost get kicked in the nuts. I mean, really love it. I haven't bathed in almost a day. I've eaten only toejam and Andy Capp's Hot Fries, despite the fact that the fridge is about 15 feet away. I started out a teetotaler, and now I'm lit to the gills on paint fumes and malt liquor. I feel like Martin Sheen in the early scenes of "Apocolypse Now". I have killed the cat. I have no reason to do this, but I have killed the cat and eaten it so that I may have it's life force for my own.
Help me. Help me stop this. It's perfect, like the geometry of a snowflake that gets you addicted to opium. This is what the beauty of perfect testicular-pain based comedy can do to a man. I am a burnt out husk of what I once was. Like Icarus, I've flown too high with this "Ringu" of ball busters. And flying too close to the sun can not only give you severe melanoma, it can make you feel like you've been kicked in the balls.
Oh, and check out "Anything After 10". It's really funny, and you can rent it for Plan 9 Video in Bloomington.
And I wrote that Robert Frost quote that started the article, so fuck you.