Let’s have some fun. Bonus article below, channeling a certain pundit. If you enjoy it, spread the wealth. If you don’t, share your pain.
New Rule: you can’t treat me like this. Stop making eyes at other topical comedians, and learn to appreciate Vitamin B. I dish out the truth you’re not ready to hear. And it really, really hurts when you don’t listen.
Look at the data: in 2019, when the world was sane, Real Time’s season premiere pulled a 0.34 in the cool demographic. I deserved more, but I respected your space. This year, you cowards gave me a 0.06 when I put Cornell West and Kellyanne Conway at the same table. That’s not fair. We were good together. Why cancel fourteen years of love?
Don’t deny it. Numbers, unlike millzoomial weasel words, never lie. Besides, I see what you write online. “Pompous.” “Out of touch.” “Human Nyquil.” “Pompous.” “Sexual antimatter.” “Midwit Emperor.” “Impossibly, logic-defyingly pompous.” It’s all public, and it all hurts.
You’ll miss me. There’s only one kind of real, unconditional love: the bond between a jester-philosopher and his wisdom-starved audience. Dogs? Newlyweds? The rubes at Mass? None of them have what we had. Show me a mother and newborn child with a desk bit this evergreen. I’ll wait.
Remember Religulous? I took on every faith, and won. Who else risked immolation for your attention? Some dropouts in red trucks? Well, they don’t care about xir pronouns either. X The sooner you get over yourselves, the faster we can get back to me. It’s not like another host would ever want you.
Sorry, too much. I only yell because I care. I want us to work again. Please don’t switch to Showtime.
I don’t know when this happened. When the smiles in the front row died. When guests started texting Colbert mid-episode. When the years behind me outnumbered the years ahead. None of it makes sense, except all of it being your fault.
You’ll get old too. How do you want to be treated? Should kids censor your “shrill porcine squeal” over a few migraines? Should dogs clawing off their own ears to stop the pain overshadow your ideas? Or should voices of every pitch be heard? Debate makes society stronger, and nobody’s making you keep shatterable glass by the television.
I think we can all agree: it’s gone too far. It being time. I’m the liberal guy, but I don’t see why Kronos needs all his rights before the other titans discuss it. Let’s pump the brakes on temporality, and give provocateurs a minute to catch up to the edge. I just wrote my first decent Vine joke, and I know I can catch up to TikTok before it dies too.
Or we can work something else out. I’m reasonable. In fact, that’s my entire schtick. Here’s a compromise: let’s simply pretend I’m on the pulse. When I crib a joke from Candace Owens, you can laugh along. Think about whatever tripe you laugh at to enhance the effect. The audience plants try, but their clapter is missing that special something.
At least call me again. In the 00’s, I couldn’t change my number quickly enough. There was a fresh stalker or bomb threat every week. That showed me you cared. Yesterday, I got a misdial from a reporter looking for Desus Nice. I spent fifteen minutes pretending to be Mero.
If nothing else, we should stay together for the country. Great empires need thinkers. In Rome, Cicero contemplated the ideal composition of government. In America, I contemplate the ideal number of pronouns. I could dumb it down like Cicero, but I trust my audience. I just need them to trust me back. Preferably for an hour, on Friday nights.
But it’s not just about the show. I respect you, and want to earn your ear back. We can still build an island of sanity in an era of extremes. Unless you don’t have a Nielsen box. Then you can enjoy your trough.
Love (me please),
Bill Maher, Provocateur
I hope you found some endorphins in there. It’s nice having a home for these pieces, I feel a little freer to take wide swings. Those swings tend to replace six out of eight hours of sleep, but I think the results are worthwhile.
Catch you Wednesday for the usual update. If you’re not subscribed to the usual update, you can jump in here:
This motherfucker...
Not sure when his brain turned into split pea soup, but when he forgot about the pandemic-induced stock market crash, and Krystal Ball ethered him on his own show, they should've (finally) pulled the plug (i.e., in addition to all the other times they should've pulled the plug).
https://twitter.com/davenewworld_2/status/1538558618722877445
BTW if you see your "definitions" from Everything Abridged showing up on Twitter, that's my fault for telling friends. One enjoyed them so much she got carried away. At least she gives you credit.