One of the reasons I have tried to decouple my day to day thinking from politics — aside from how observably toxic it is — has to do with feeling like I am too old to know about some stuff. If you follow politics, inevitably a politician is going to try and appeal to voters by doing something “popular.” I am too old to care about popular things and would like to avoid learning what a Chappel Roan is, for example. From what I can gather, a Chappel Roan is another Lady Gaga but modified to be slightly more bisexual this time.
This is not possible when following politics. For the modern activist, it is important to have opinions on what a Chappel Roan is because whatever Chappel Roan is got asked about politics and gave an answer. Then a bunch of unfulfilled people analyzed the answer and talked about whether the answer was adequate to continue supporting a Chappel Roan.
This is not something I would like to spend time doing. I heard the “Hot to Go!” song in the car and it was catchy enough.
This week I learned what a Tony Hinchcliffe is. It’s like an Anthony Jeselnik but one that isn’t funny or handsome enough to be independent. Tony Hinchcliffe is an insult comic, which is what you call comedians that aren’t funny but still make jokes at places that require a 3-drink minimum. I learned what a Tony Hinchcliffe was because — surprise surprise — a politician in need of votes had it on stage at a rally. The forty year old man with Adderall face used his time to insult Puerto Rican people on behalf of Donald Trump. No word yet on whether Puerto Rican residents are aware of what a Tony Hinchcliffe is or if podcast comedy is especially popular on the island.
Now other politicians are talking about how the joke wasn’t funny, but other politicians are talking about how the joke is funny. I’d rather talk about why I have to hear about this shit at all. I first heard about “Kill Tony” when my older brother — an Austin resident — told me at the beach this summer that whoever does “Kill Tony” sucks. I didn’t look into it any further because it was evident from the name that my brother was correct. Now I gotta know more about it because the Trump guys are making the Tony guy famous, and it turns out this Tony Huffcliff is the Tony from Kill Tony.
Everything I just typed is objectively idiotic, but it’s the election cycle’s hottest story with two weeks to go. Insult comedy. Have you ever met a man over 30 that you respect that talks about the latest Roast? When the Tom Brady Roast went up on Netflix, I only knew about it because the lamest men I know would bring up the jokes. Did you hear the one about his marriage to Gisele? No. I did not. I have a mortgage and my children respect me. I can tell you’ve got other stuff going on, though.
Whenever someone points out that this stuff isn’t funny, the reaction is the same: lighten up, it’s just a joke! The idea communicated is that the person who is offended simply didn’t understand the joke. It never occurs to them that people are groaning not because they are insulted, but because the comedian in question doesn’t realize we’ve heard this one before.
Anyway. I’m very unhappy to have learned any of this, but with American democracy at stake, it was necessary. I could spend the rest of my days wishing nothing but terrible things for Tony Heathcliff, a person I didn’t know that I’d already heard of back when my brother said Kill Tony sucked. But instead I am going to go back to the world where Tony Heathcliff doesn’t exist. In that world, a friend of mine in Lalibela got into a tuktuk license class with some money I sent him. He doesn’t know what a Tony is either. It’s awesome.