The Light Was On

Norm Macdonald made me laugh a lot over the years, though I didn’t always feel good about myself afterward. Some of his bits were senselessly cruel, and he wasn’t above making you giggle by repeatedly miming himself giving a shoe salesman a blowjob.

But since he died I’ve watched the notorious “Moth Joke” many times, and I never get tired of it. The punchline isn’t what gets me, though the punchline is perfect; it’s watching him get there that’s the point. Like “The Aristocrats,” the joke is really just a framework that allows for endless improvisation. Legend has it that Conan suddenly needed to fill the last segment on his show, and so Norm tailored his delivery to fit on the spot.

My favorite part is his smirk as he toys with the audience. He knows that the premise was set up in the first seven words and that the punchline is going to kill no matter what he does; his only goal is to stretch things out long enough that you forget where he started. And so even the stumbles, awkward pauses, and intentional butchering of Russian names serve a larger purpose.

This, my friends, is how you tell a joke.


Play On, Mr. Music

We’ve lost a lot of legends this year: Charlie Watts, Ed Asner, Toots Hibbert, Bunny Wailer, The Gift of Gab, Biz Markie, and Shock G, just off the top of my head. And Michael K. Williams, fucking Omar, and now Norm, it never ends….

But no departure has mattered to me as much as that of Lee “Scratch” Perry, whom I truly believed to be immortal. In 2011 he told GQ:

I create immortality — never grow old, never get cold, never tired, never weary. I am my music. My music refuse to die, my music refuse to be an adult, my music will be a baby for all the time.

How could you not believe him? All the evidence seemed to back him up.

One of Scratch’s defining characteristics was an insane productivity, especially during the Black Ark period (1975–1979), when he had the tapes rolling day and night. Robert Palmer (yes that Robert Palmer, Power Station Robert Palmer, “Addicted to Love” Robert Palmer, but also, lest we forget, “Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley” Robert Palmer), who recorded at the Black Ark, described the atmosphere this way: