Revisiting Political Comedy: Self-Medication Through Old Jokes

At the end of 2017, I’m doing something for mental health that most people might not consider, because it’s honestly a system I’m not sure how I fell into. I don’t even know why I thought it would work. That thing is the process of starting to work with background video/audio from old political commentary/comedy shows. Mostly, the first two seasons of Last Week Tonight, and then some podcasts, and occasionally old Daily Shows or episodes of Samantha Bee’s program from the first season. My entertainment, and my relaxation, has been transitioned into finding humor and insight from before the Trump presidency.
I feel like I’ve spent all of 2017 trying to kick the feeling that we are in the bad timeline. There was a distinct belief I instilled in myself that by reading the post-mortem on the Clinton campaign in the book Shattered that I would somehow finally let my last primal shouts be released and I would be free of the chains of the 2016 election. Or at least I would let the final burst of anger screech from my plummeting soul. Well, that book did nothing to subside my anger. Nor did showing up for events. You know what absolutely didn’t help? Working a voting location the entire day of the election, in hopes my wife and I would later celebrate our contribution to the concept of Democracy.
This has been a wound without closure and I’ve started trying experimental medicine to get the hemorrhage from bleeding out.
With that in mind it is perhaps not a surprise that I would retreat to entertainment that focuses on the news that happened under a better president. And yeah, I understand that this seems like some kind of escapism or flat-out denial. Look, it’s not like I started writing 2015 on my checks and recycling newspapers. I’m not insane. (Insert some gif of Dwight from The Office into your brain at this moment.) Instead, it was just a nice reminder of what outrage culture used to look like, before every moment was on fire.
Jokingly, it’s a nice reminder to revisit a time when the most outrageous things we could shout about was bird dialysis or the gerrymandering of prisons. That’s a lot of what revisiting season one of Last Week Tonight is all about: We used to need to get angry about the space between structures. Whenever Obama comes up on the show, it’s not to assault him for destroying democracy, but rather to hammer him for small mistakes between the real fine print.
Still, that makes me feel good. It’s that same magic that draws you back to Leslie Knope: this nerding out over footnotes in legalese and realizing that that’s where the real battles get fought. And a return to the time where it was transgressive and rebellious to battle on the sublevel makes me feel better than remembering we’re in a period of fighting language on the bolded headline level.
For example, starting into Last Week Tonight from the beginning, like with any show, is initially an exercise in realizing how far it’s come in figuring out its own structure. The first season is plagued with side-segments that go nowhere but have their heart in the right place—usually the bits where Oliver has to interview smart people and they shit on him and he acts upset about it. Beyond that, most of the episodes (from the beginning) knew that they could fill an entire hour and therefore put their extended interviews and such online. Season 2.5 of the show is when the show started to shit on the 30 minute limitation and break out into forty minute plus episodes and it wasn’t until season 4 that it really pulls back into 30 minutes every week.
As a journey through time, the very first episode of the HBO weekly show opens with a series of jokes about Donald Sterling demanding his wife not take Instagram pictures with blacks, and puts that up against footage of Cliven Bundy, long before Bundy’s stance inspired some assholes to occupy a bird sanctuary. This is emblematic of everything that happens here: you see the first DNA strands of… no wait, the first sweater threads being pulled from the shit that will become The Shit in the years to come. It’s amazing to watch the focus fall onto the small pawn assholes that would serve as launching points for bigger, more awful death marches into The Sunken Place. It’s genuinely amazing to remember that this also began with Cliven Bundy, who could now perhaps hold political office. This was, of course, just after Chris Christie’s Bridgegate and folks still considered him A Contender.
The first episode then sinks its time into both the hyper-politicized Indian elections that became lost behind partisan shouting (foreshadowing) and then into James Clapper trying to explain that the NSA is not monitoring Americans (just before this would become The Biggest Issue). In what would be the least long-running bit on the show, Workplace Of The Week focused on NFL cheerleaders and their poor pay, lackluster coverage and hellish working conditions. I can see why this one died early. Not because it wasn’t progressive and aware, but because all of America has become the worst possible workplace.