i used to have nightmares about how voldemort has no nose and yet paul ryan’s lack of spine is someh

Last week, Paul Ryan, a veritable comedy genius, delivered the keynote address at the annual Al Smith charity dinner, a “spirited” performance that prompted The Washington Post to remark (in a tone of total, excited, confused delight) “Paul Ryan’s got jokes about President Trump!” This is good news for Ryan, whose approval rating sits about midway between that of gas station sushi and the third installment of The Santa Claus movie series. After pitching a few softballs about Wisconsin and Chuck Schumer, Ryan notably took aim at the Notorious(ly terrible at being laughed at) DJT.

I have never been particularly good at writing roast-eqsue zingers like the ones delivered at the dinner, so I recognize the stone-throwing nature of this exercise. As I never much cared for my glass house anyway (so many fingerprint smudges!), I can say that I don’t find Paul Ryan’s performance at the Al Smith dinner funny. I don’t see it as endearing or humanizing, and I don’t think it was “all in good fun,” as the Post described it the morning after the event. Rather, I believe that it is fucking bullshit that Paul Ryan only has the courage to be honest when he is joking.

I am certainly not saying that joking cannot been used to show politics in its most honest form. John Oliver and Samantha Bee make a living (and make millions laugh) by making the crazy comical. With that, I think comedy is a really powerful tool for calling out Trump’s bullshit for what it is—total, utter, stinky, smelly bullshit. In a time where the president is actively trying to discredit the news, the gut media response is to take what Trump says seriously in order to be taken seriously by the public. The problem with this is that there isn’t much room for journalists to call the president on his bluff. Good comedy can help the public distinguish the bullshit from the stuff we should actually be paying attention to.

And it’s not that the left should have a monopoly on comedy (even though we’re historically, undeniably better at it). If Tomi Lauren wants to pitch a sitcom about a bunch of racists who forgot that their exes were coming to town and need to plan a fake party to impress them, she has every right to do so (though the idea of Mitch McConnell doing standup lies somewhere between watching Donald Trump attempt tweeze his back moles and Ted Cruz eating boogers on the scale of horrifically uncomfortable things to witness).

I think the thing that is so deeply unsettling about Paul Ryan joking about Russian interference in the election and Donald Trump’s inability to tweet without inspiring composers everywhere to start writing music for the Ken Burns WWIII documentary (coming to PBS in 2021!) is that it proves that he is far more self-aware than anyone gave him credit for. He recognizes that the man he works with is ridiculous, and that the things he says are ridiculous, and yet, back on Capitol Hill, he stands behind that ridiculousness.

It’s not funny to joke about Steve Bannon not believing in science when Ryan praised Trump for making moves against the Paris climate deal.

It’s not cute to remark that “the president will tweet: '300,000 at Al Smith dinner cheer mention of my name” when Ryan actively defends the president’s attacks on the free press and fake news.

It’s not a knee-slap moment to mention “bad-cop Bob Mueller” and defend Trump’s firing of Comey because the president is “new at this.” Do you know who else was “new at this?” EVERY OTHER PRESIDENT EVER.

It’s not amusing to divulge “which tweets I will have to pretend I didn’t see later on,” when Ryan refuses to challenge 95% of those tweets.

And it’s not making anyone feel any better to laugh off how “some of [Trump’s] comments are offensive” when he let him off with a slap on the wrist for not condemning the tiki-torch bearing girl scouts that walked through Charlottesville, selling Thin Mints and also some good old fashioned white supremacy.

Comedy is a healthy, productive tool in politics when it helps the public heal, when it aids viewers in recognizing nonsense when they see it, and when it is used to eventually effect productive change. The Al Smith dinner, in lending humanity to Ryan, essentially rewarded him for being unable to speak up against bullshit when it actually matters. I don’t give a shit if you understand why it is so troubling that Trump knowingly deceives the public. Instead of exploiting that knowledge in the name of positive media coverage and a few laughs, do something about it.

Laughter is good medicine, but there is unfortunately no prescription for growing a fucking spine.

#bullshit #ugh #paulryan