Monday, 20 November 2006 09:08 pm
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deckardcanineTo me, the two best things about living in D.C. are the easy access to museums and the easy access to special events. In the last two weekends, my family and I have taken advantage of both.
First we saw a Library of Congress exhibit called Cartoon America. Much as I love the subject, I didn't get much out of the measly 100 drawings (only about 3 of them credited to women) and 3-minute animation montage that I didn't already know. Okay, some stuff. The presence of some realistic book illustrations and a piece of notebook-paper abstract erotica did get me wondering where "cartooning" ends. A handful of editorials interestingly predated the 20th century. Richard Thompson (whom I know for the crude "Richard's Poor Almanac" and "Cul-de-Sac") turns out to have done refined surreal caricatures in the late '80s. A jumbo Sunday "Popeye" shows Wimpy waxing expertly poetic about a skull in the desert. All these appear in a building decorated like an antique Roman chapel-turned-museum.
The next Saturday morning, we partook in the Fannie Mae Help-the-Homeless Walkathon. I was reminded how lovely monumental Washington can be, particularly without running cars nearby. We cut it a little short due to my mom recovering from foot surgery, but there was just as much money contributed that way. The shirt I got is too big even after washing; maybe I'll give that to someone homeless as well.
I wonder if it's mere coincidence that the Walkathon fell on the same day as Comic Relief 2006. As it happens, I cut out about halfway thru that as well, mainly because I wanted to go home to bed soon. In some ways, the show hadn't changed since 1998: Robin jokes about his genitalia more than anything else; Billy makes a good partner for him; and poor Whoopi can barely get a word in edgewise, let alone hold her own for comedy (is she there mainly for diversity?). The show retained its proportions of host standup, guest standup, prize advertisement, and serious looks at the homeless. It may be unsuitable for sensitive viewers -- especially Republicans who don't like to hear their leaders dissed.
I thought that this one might be a little better because of the more specific theme of New Orleans. That did help to make the serious parts more interesting to me, but the show as a whole was, as my dad put it, disjointed. Given Billy's and Robin's Academy Award Show records, it wasn't surprising that they had a big, memorable opening sequence followed by a struggle for filler in the next three hours. Louie Anderson's footage, tailing on a particularly clumsy bit of host improv, was no better than I anticipated. The Radiators were there as promised, but they played about ten seconds total by way of introducing people; other musicians were scarce as well.
Not helping was the fact that we no longer have HBO, so we watched on TBS. The bleeping wouldn't bother me much if they didn't hold it so long you couldn't get the gist of the sentence. Anyway, when half the comedy is about sex and nearly everyone says uncensored vulgarities and blasphemies like "Holy s***," it seems silly to bleep "Shut the f*** up."
Nevertheless, there were laughs to be had. Ray Romano revved us up as the first individual comedian. Rosie O'Donnell demonstrated her ongoing worth. Stephen Colbert met my high expectations against the straight lines from Jon Stewart. I made sure to leave after an especially good joke; if only I could remember the name of the guy who delivered it. My folks say I didn't miss much after that.
First we saw a Library of Congress exhibit called Cartoon America. Much as I love the subject, I didn't get much out of the measly 100 drawings (only about 3 of them credited to women) and 3-minute animation montage that I didn't already know. Okay, some stuff. The presence of some realistic book illustrations and a piece of notebook-paper abstract erotica did get me wondering where "cartooning" ends. A handful of editorials interestingly predated the 20th century. Richard Thompson (whom I know for the crude "Richard's Poor Almanac" and "Cul-de-Sac") turns out to have done refined surreal caricatures in the late '80s. A jumbo Sunday "Popeye" shows Wimpy waxing expertly poetic about a skull in the desert. All these appear in a building decorated like an antique Roman chapel-turned-museum.
The next Saturday morning, we partook in the Fannie Mae Help-the-Homeless Walkathon. I was reminded how lovely monumental Washington can be, particularly without running cars nearby. We cut it a little short due to my mom recovering from foot surgery, but there was just as much money contributed that way. The shirt I got is too big even after washing; maybe I'll give that to someone homeless as well.
I wonder if it's mere coincidence that the Walkathon fell on the same day as Comic Relief 2006. As it happens, I cut out about halfway thru that as well, mainly because I wanted to go home to bed soon. In some ways, the show hadn't changed since 1998: Robin jokes about his genitalia more than anything else; Billy makes a good partner for him; and poor Whoopi can barely get a word in edgewise, let alone hold her own for comedy (is she there mainly for diversity?). The show retained its proportions of host standup, guest standup, prize advertisement, and serious looks at the homeless. It may be unsuitable for sensitive viewers -- especially Republicans who don't like to hear their leaders dissed.
I thought that this one might be a little better because of the more specific theme of New Orleans. That did help to make the serious parts more interesting to me, but the show as a whole was, as my dad put it, disjointed. Given Billy's and Robin's Academy Award Show records, it wasn't surprising that they had a big, memorable opening sequence followed by a struggle for filler in the next three hours. Louie Anderson's footage, tailing on a particularly clumsy bit of host improv, was no better than I anticipated. The Radiators were there as promised, but they played about ten seconds total by way of introducing people; other musicians were scarce as well.
Not helping was the fact that we no longer have HBO, so we watched on TBS. The bleeping wouldn't bother me much if they didn't hold it so long you couldn't get the gist of the sentence. Anyway, when half the comedy is about sex and nearly everyone says uncensored vulgarities and blasphemies like "Holy s***," it seems silly to bleep "Shut the f*** up."
Nevertheless, there were laughs to be had. Ray Romano revved us up as the first individual comedian. Rosie O'Donnell demonstrated her ongoing worth. Stephen Colbert met my high expectations against the straight lines from Jon Stewart. I made sure to leave after an especially good joke; if only I could remember the name of the guy who delivered it. My folks say I didn't miss much after that.