Apologies. My lungs have been shut down by the flu for the past week and a half, so my brain has been starved of the precious oxygen needed to spark new entries. So much for the comeback.
Apart from auditioning for Indiana Jones and the Temple of Phlegm, I’ve spent the last couple of weeks coughing through seasons 1-3 of Seinfeld on DVD, thanks to a timely loan from a friend. It was like stepping through a portal to Planet Channel Ten, with repeats every night at seven o’clock; for eight disks I was back in a time when Kramer was the king of anti-cool and Costanza was court jester of cringe. God, what a great shocough cough cough cough cough cough.
Sorry. At the same time I started reading a huge book lent to me by another friend about the American comedy institution Saturday Night Live, which told its story through interviews with cast members, hosts, writers and producers. Outside the U.S. we only see its by-products: The Blues Brothers, Wayne’s World, and just about every North American comedian working in movies today. I thought they bred them on a maple farm in Ontario, but no, they’ve all come through SNL: Dan Aykroyd, Eddie Murphy, Mike Myers, Dana Carvey, Phil Hartman, Will Ferrell, cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough.
Um... the link being Larry David and Julia Louis-Dreyfus cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH.
Okay, I’ll get back to you.
5 April 2005