Sometimes comedy illuminates hard truths with a pointed urgency that other means can’t quite achieve. Sometimes comedy is just funny. This series of posts is mostly about the former instances, but the latter is valuable, too.
The Sunday New York Times that landed on my doorstep yesterday included a nice surprise on the front of the business section. In the space usually reserved for a disheartening trend pieces that unwittingly exposed the unchecked cruelty of modern capitalism or a dreadfully boring profile of puffy CEO there sat a story about the ongoing resistance to female comic voices in the realm of television, despite the colossal need for content. The article took a reasonably broad view of the state of the industry, but it fully won my affection by expending a significant number of column inches on the endless hustling of Riki Lindhome and Kate Micucci, known together as Garfunkel and Oates.
Among the many pleasures I derived from the article, it called my attention to the most recent Garfunkel and Oates song, which someone escaped my attention when it debuted last November. Employing their usual deft songwriting, the duo aim their satire at the cries of persecution issued by mewling males in response to earnest, long-delayed attempts at redressing inequities in society. They level their feminist ire with thrilled ingenuity and, as a bonus, manage to slip in a deft and rare successful instance of rhyming the word “orange.” The song contains feats aplenty.
Also, the web presence of the Gray Lady now includes a hyperlink to “The Loophole,” as brilliant and filthy of a comedic song as I’ve ever encounter. I think the construction of that particular information superhighway on-ramp is absolutely delightful.