My crime against comedy

If you’re what are known as a “comedy nerd” such as me, you have to have some kind of knowledge of the classics. If you need a comparison, a comedian not knowing at least a few minutes of George Carlin material is like a guitarist who’s never heard of Jimi Hendrix.

Which is why I feel this particular post may rub a few of the hundreds upon thousands of people that read this blog, the nerds in particular. But, before you grab the pitchforks and torches, allow me to elaborate upon what may seem like comedic sacrilege in the next sentence.

I don’t find Bill Hicks very funny.

Deep breaths. Count to ten. Put down the steak knife.

If you don’t know who he is, you probably don’t read this blog, and you probably don’t read much at all, because you’re dumb. But, for the sake of helping out stupid people, Bill Hicks is one of those names that is always in the conversation when people are talking about comedy gods.  The other names that are typically thrown around are typically some combination of Richard Pryor, George Carlin, and some other wild cards like Jerry Seinfeld or Bob Saget (not).

Back to the point, I don’t mean to marginalize Bill Hicks’ accomplishments or his status as a legend in standup comedy. Bill Hicks is as deserving as anyone to be a part of that conversation.

But, when watching him perform I go on long stretches without laughing. His humor is poetic and smart, his stage presence is incredible. But it doesn’t make me laugh.

This was all brought on when I watched the documentary about him called “American: The Bill Hicks Story.” I watched it from beginning to end, enjoying every second. No one has ever been able to express rage and remain as articulate and eloquent as Hicks. He commanded your respect when he was on stage because he was always the smartest guy in the room. And that really was the story of Hicks’ career.

His writing was so brilliant that crowds didn’t quite get the point. Is he trying to make me laugh? Is he trying to preach? Is he just screaming because he’s an alcoholic?

In other words, he was smarter than his crowds. Or, at the very least, he was smarter than most of his American crowds, as had more mainstream success on the other side of the pond.

My favorite joke of Hicks’ is his bit people have come to call “It’s just a ride.” In it, Hicks talks about life as a roller coaster ride, and how people seem to forget that that’s all life is, a ride. He goes on to say that there are times that people that “come back to us” to remind us that life is just a ride, and then “we kill those people.”

Now, when he says this, I don’t laugh. Not outwardly anyway. At best, this joke gets a grin. But, the way he delivers that line, and the way he delivers the whole bit makes something in your soul say “right on.”

That’s really what Bill Hicks is to me. I see Bill Hicks as a comedian the same way I see Mark Twain as a “humorist.” Profundity through comedy, prophecy with a smirk.

So, while I don’t necessarily get the deep belly laughs that I do from some of today’s greats, such as Louis CK, I absolutely enjoy every moment of Bill Hicks’ comedy. He brought an overarching message to a performance like no one ever has.

Listening to Bill Hicks perform is like listening to a Pink Floyd album, you don’t skip tracks, it was composed to be heard from beginning to end.

And while I may have some comedy purist knocking down my door any minute to tell me how young and naïve I am, I hope you understand what I mean when I say that I find many, many comics to be funnier than Bill Hicks, but few are better.