Stop me if you’ve heard this one. A decade ago the urban cabaret proprietor realized he could provide cheap, attractive entertainment—no sets, no music, small cast—just by booking three or four stand-up comedians. And so was born that newest and most seductive leftist Agitprop outlet: the comedy club. About young comedians this much can be said with assurance: They’re bright, they’ll work for horse dandruff, and a funny thing happened on their way to the club—they all found liberalism. For each Chappaquiddick joke you’ll hear, oh, five dozen about Republican malfeasance. That which has been made fun of can more easily be destroyed. Laughter—even laughter drawn from a reluctant audience—implies assent. Given enough time it can demoralize. No one likes to be associated with an absurdity.
I hit the New York club circuit last month. There is no more vivid index of a public figure’s popular image than his status as useful laughingstock. Mid 1989 the joke meter stood so:
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