The Humor of Yesteryear

I am concerned. Concerned for the traditions of humor in America. While I would normally refer to myself as embracing progress in many areas — medicine, education, transportation, infrastructure, architecture — humor, especially humor in art, is something that I feel is decidedly worth remaining “old-fashioned” about.

I’ll probably sound much older than I actually am by saying this (hint: I was a child of the 1980s, so I am nowhere near ready for the nursing home), but I honestly squirm at a significant portion of what’s considered “funny” in the 21st century. The focus on sexual references (not so subtle ones at that), making light of someone else’s misfortune (again, not very politely), and ripping to shreds others’ religious and political views (definitely not subtly or with an ounce of tact) really doesn’t strike me as laughable fodder.

I grow nostalgic for the days of satire, light-hearted parody, and when everybody got sarcasm without needing it explained. I hold sentiment for the days when I actually recognized the comedians on TV. I long for Dave Barry inventing crazy names for rock bands, Erma Bombeck giving us new ways to insult telemarketers, and people automatically breaking into the refrain, “Hello, Muddah, hello, Faddah,” when the words “summer camp” are mentioned.

I miss switching on Saturday night “entertainment” and finding the guy who always fell off his piano bench. I miss old British comedies (honestly, I don’t even know what’s on BBC and Channel 4 anymore).

I miss reading a book and feeling like it really was funny. Don’t get me wrong, there are books published in the last five years that have had me rolling on the floor. Absolutely. (Thank God.)

But there are also many more that leave me scratching my head. Same goes for a lot of movies and TV shows. Am I really a “stick in the mud”? Am I simply “falling behind the times”? (Do people even use that phrase anymore? Great, did I just set this argument in stone?!)

Or, am I merely among a growing group of people under 50 (in some cases, under 30) who are aware of a declining sense of decency in society? And rightly bothered by it?

I don’t find “reality” TV at all entertaining. I don’t get a bunch of the memes or hashtags floating around, because I’ve never seen the show, watched the viral video, or checked out the podcast. When my options are to waste an hour of my life watching some fame-chasing clod make a fool of themselves, or to indulge in a repeat of Masterpiece Theater, guess which I choose?

One of the few new programs I do like is an Australian/New Zealand production called 800 Words. It’s a realistic, genuinely humorous, serious when it needs to be, and poignant at the right moments not-quite-drama/not-outright-comedy about a widower who moves his teenage children to the middle of nowhere. It’s very modern (they have wi-fi and up-to-date slang and culture), but it’s sweet, and not fraught with political agendas, nor too heavy-handed on the less-fun things.

Apparently we now need to turn to the literal far-flung corners of the globe for decent, acceptable, enjoyable programming. Honestly, I don’t think I have a problem with that.

Well, I kind of do — because I worry about what’s becoming of my native land. And about how much space will be left in Britain and Australia for my children, when they grow frustrated and decide to emigrate.

Like I did. And maybe I will again.

In the meantime, I’ll pray for a lot of what’s currently trending to quickly become a footnote to history.