Currently, probably Rick & Morty. In my youth, I was Looney Tunes over Hanna Barbera, especially Roadrunner, Yosemite Sam, and Marvin the Martian.
Tag Archives: Television
BOOKS: “Funny Stuff” ed. by Laura LaPlaca and Ryan Lintelman
Funny Stuff: How Comedy Shaped American History by Laura LaPlacaMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Publisher Site — Rutgers University Press
Release Date: May 12, 2026
As the subtitle suggests, this book explores the nexus between American History and comedy across many, varied media (i.e. writing, theater, standup, improv, radio, television, movies, etc.) It’s an interesting book, but I don’t know that it has the right title. Considering the title, a reader might expect a fuller coverage of American History, drawing on whatever humorous outlets existed at the time (e.g. op-eds and satirical articles.) This book is more of a history of comedic content in the US with a substantial discussion of how comedy addressed / participated in changing views on sex, race, and sexuality and with occasional mention of how comedy was involved in other social issues, such as changing views on free speech and expression. You’re not going to learn how comedic writers addressed Smoot-Hawley or the Sinking of the Maine. (i.e. The book leads with comedic content and leans the discussion toward societal influence [rarely toward policy influence.] It does not lead with historical events and draw on appropriate comedic content.)
The book covers a lot of the same ground as Kliph Nesteroff’s The Comedians, though with quite different emphases. Nesteroff focuses on the gritty underside of comedy and the oft unseen dark side of comedians, while this book focuses on comedy as a factor in changing views on race and sex [as well as on the changing technological outlets for comedy.] Funny Stuff does spend a little more time on pre-20th century America than does Nesteroff, but not much more. Both books are heavily weighted toward the late 20th century to present. To be fair, there is much more volume of comedic output in this period. (That said, there were artists I expected coverage of, e.g. Josh Billings, that weren’t included. That’s where the book seems more like a history of comedy and its varied outlets.)
If you’re interested in the development of comedy in America, and its influence on social issues — most extensively attitudes towards race — I’d recommend this book.
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PROMPT: TV Shows
Andy Griffith Show, Carol Burnett Show, Dick Van Dyke Show… wow, they were not creative with names in those days.
PROMPT: Rewatch
No TV series. Though there might be episodes of “Seinfeld” that I’ve seen that many times (but others I may have never seen at all.)
Re: Movies: “Kung Fu Hustle,” “The Matrix” (the first one,) and “Kung Fu Panda” (the first one.) Nothing else comes to mind, but there probably are some. (Back from the days when cable ran the same content over and over.)
Five times is a lot of times to watch the same thing. If it’s really good, it will be too mentally / emotionally draining to watch repeatedly. And if it’s too bad, it will be tedious to do so. It needs to be in the sweet spot of light, but incredibly entertaining.
PROMPT: Leisure Time
That’s trickier than it seems. I quite enjoy reading and many forms of bodily movement activities (e.g. swimming, yoga, taiji, qigong, exercise, etc.,) but I’d count them more as personal development activities than leisure activities. (Even something as seemingly non-purposeful as juggling.) I sometimes watch TV / movies, but I don’t know that I’d say I enjoy that so much as find it an opportunity to zone out.
PROMPT: Rewatched
Movies: The Matrix (1999), Kung Fu Hustle (2004), and – possibly – The Dark Knight (2008) and Inception (2010). [Really, I could watch any Christopher Nolan film more than once (and probably need to in order to fully get them.)]
TV Series: None. I can’t think of a series that I’ve watched more than once — except maybe in reruns as a kid, watching episodes out of sequence and on a hit or miss basis.
BOOKS: “The Comedians” by Kliph Nesteroff
The Comedians: Drunks, Thieves, Scoundrels, and the History of American Comedy by Kliph NesteroffMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Amazon.in Page
This book presents a fascinating history of standup comedy and the various ancillary activities that comedians have taken on to make ends meet, to advance their careers, and – in a surprising number of cases – to pay for drugs — e.g. from writing to radio and television performances to hosting interview shows. The book’s exploration runs from the days of Vuadville to today’s world of Twitter and podcasts.
The book reveals a great deal about which readers may be unaware. If you, like me, watched The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and wondered whether the mob was really that involved in the entertainment industry, turns out, they were. In fact, Nesteroff addresses the violence and threats experienced by comedians in a way that is much more explicit than in that TV show. There are tales of early insult comedians running afoul of wiseguys who were in the audience unbeknownst to the comedian. There is even a chapter devoted to the building of Las Vegas to meet certain needs of organized crime, as well as discussion of the mob’s decline (or, perhaps, legitimization) in the industry.
Another discovery that was interesting to me was how wild some of the early comedians were, both in their stage and in their personal lives. There were a number of names that were familiar to me from re-runs of highly censored network television programs. I’d wrongly assumed that these individuals were as bland and wholesome as their on-air personas. Buddy Hackett is a prime example of someone who wasn’t at all what I expected.
It’s remarkable to see how many ups and down standup comedy has had in its relatively short life span — cycles of boom and bust.
If you’re interested in standup comedy and how comedy has progressed as a form of entertainment in America, I’d highly recommend this book.
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BOOKS: “Anthony Bourdain and Philosophy” ed. by Scott Calef
Anthony Bourdain and Philosophy by Calef ScottMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Amazon.in Page
Release Date: December 26, 2023
These pop philosophy books that examine philosophical ideas through the lens of a particular pop culture personality or entity have become, well, popular. It’s not hard to see why; it’s an easy way to take your medicine, your medicine being to learn philosophical concepts. And, let’s face it, scholarly philosophical books are often nigh unreadable, being laden with jargon and having a tendency to get so lost in the minutiae of razor fine points that they display no relevance to the human experience. I am not immune to the appeal of such books, though when I see a book like “Miranda Sings and Philosophy” I figure I can take a hard pass. But this one caught my eye because Anthony Bourdain did live a life shaped by his own particular philosophy, and an intriguing one at that.
Like most of these books, this is a collection of essays written by different authors. As such, the quality and relevance of the included chapters does vary somewhat.
The book is divided into four parts. The first part looks at the subject of the work for which Bourdain was best known — i.e. at the intersection of food and travel. In these four chapters, authors explore the aesthetics of food and questions like: Do “expert” views on food matter? What is disgusting? And what role does culture play in the culinary experience?
The second part is entitled, “life,” and these five chapters look at Bourdain, the man. That is, they shift away from his work, and look at Bourdain as a martial arts student, a storyteller, and -generally – as a person. These chapters also offer insight into his epistemological perspective — i.e. how he viewed (and engaged in) the pursuit of truth, as well as touching upon his philosophical views more broadly.
The third part takes another turn to examine Bourdain’s addiction and his death by suicide. The chapters present broader philosophical frameworks on suicide and freedom, as a means to put Bourdain’s experience in perspective.
The final part is really kind of a grab-bag of subjects that don’t fit neatly into the other sections. Probably not coincidentally, this is where most of the book’s rough spots are located. It sometimes seems that Bourdain’s philosophy is not so much the subject anymore, and some authors convey their ideas more clearly and effectively than others. This is not, by any means, to say that any of the chapters are completely stinkers, nor to say that all of the chapters are defective. Chapter 13 [which, BTW, I think could have found a spot in Part II] does an interesting job in clarifying Bourdain’s approach to ethics, no easy task as it can seem like an odd mix of spiteful nihilistic impulses and compassionate humility (and it certainly evolved over time.) But even Chapters 14 and 15, which are not only the least flattering discussions of Bourdain but also the most didactic, have something to offer. The first lays out the scandal involving Bourdain’s girlfriend who was a MeToo leader but who also paid off a young actor who accused her of statutory rape, a pay-off made by Bourdain and which seems to be a factor in his suicide. Chapter 15 offers examples of what the author believed Bourdain did right and wrong in discussing the historical context of the places he visited that had been colonized. Ch. 16 was a discussion of the ethics of engaging in luxuriant fine dining in a world with starving people. I thought this chapter would stay the course set by the previous two, but it did shift back into academic objectivity by producing a more complete discussion of competing viewpoints. The penultimate chapter goes more niche than the others, but is a fascinating look at the ethics of AI generated voicework for the “Roadrunner” documentary — i.e. using AI to make it sound like Bourdain said things that he wrote in emails or books but never said [at least not into a recording device.] The last chapter involves climate change and episodes Bourdain did in Madagascar and Bhutan. This was both one of the longer chapters and definitely the most muddled. It remains unclear to me exactly what the author was trying to say, exactly. It’s perfectly readable, and yet unclear.
All in all, I enjoyed this book (as much as one can “enjoy” a book that is about a deceased beloved figure,) and thought it offered some excellent food for thought.
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PROMPT: Cartoon
As a kid, I would definitely say I was more Looney Tunes than Hanna Barbera. I particularly liked “The Road Runner Show” and episodes with Yosemite Sam. Probably because the violence seemed more authentic and characters like Marvin the Martian and Yosemite Sam were salable as murderous psychopaths. I watched Hanna Barbera, but it always seemed like softball by comparison.
Today, I would have to say Rick and Morty.

