Max: Python - A Scream of Consciousness
I have just had a fairly Monty Python intensive couple of weeks. First I picked up the new, feature packed Meaning of Life DVD set. Then I read The Pythons, the new group autobiography. I capped those off last night when Laura and I went to see Eric Idle's Greedy Bastard Tour up at the Touhill.
I have long been a fan of British comedy in general and Monty Python in particular. One of the few fond memories of my otherwise unmemorable adolescence was of Sunday nights when MTV showed The Young Ones, The British Comic Strip and Monty Python's Flying Circus. Red Dwarf and Black Adder soon joined my list of British faves, along with their Canadian colonials Kids in the Hall.
It is that sort of farcifal, absurdist comedy - the sort that regularly grinds sacred cows into some darn fine hamburger - that forms that basis of my sense of humor. Life is cruel, empty and meaningless. We are surrounded by stupid, petty, heartless people who have more say over our lives than we do. What can you do but laugh at it? It is that sort of humor that filled my long since aborted novel. It is can be found in most of my writing. I've even written a few scripts for a sketch comedy show that has yet to transform into anything but bits on my hard disk. I really want to do something with those scripts.
Its seems time has beaten Jericho down. It has been having the opposite effect on me. As time goes on, I am more desperate than ever to do something interesting with my life. As I watched the show last night, I felt a pang, a deep desire to be the one on the stage, the one with the legion of fans and a lifetime of achievement. The odds are it won't happen. More and more, I feel I need to try.
I have long been a fan of British comedy in general and Monty Python in particular. One of the few fond memories of my otherwise unmemorable adolescence was of Sunday nights when MTV showed The Young Ones, The British Comic Strip and Monty Python's Flying Circus. Red Dwarf and Black Adder soon joined my list of British faves, along with their Canadian colonials Kids in the Hall.
It is that sort of farcifal, absurdist comedy - the sort that regularly grinds sacred cows into some darn fine hamburger - that forms that basis of my sense of humor. Life is cruel, empty and meaningless. We are surrounded by stupid, petty, heartless people who have more say over our lives than we do. What can you do but laugh at it? It is that sort of humor that filled my long since aborted novel. It is can be found in most of my writing. I've even written a few scripts for a sketch comedy show that has yet to transform into anything but bits on my hard disk. I really want to do something with those scripts.
Its seems time has beaten Jericho down. It has been having the opposite effect on me. As time goes on, I am more desperate than ever to do something interesting with my life. As I watched the show last night, I felt a pang, a deep desire to be the one on the stage, the one with the legion of fans and a lifetime of achievement. The odds are it won't happen. More and more, I feel I need to try.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/08/2003 11:45:00 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home