Is there a more precise embodiment of the "comedy" aspects of our smirking prick HiDefecation culture than a flyspeck known as Jimmy Fallon? Not only does Fallon's material seem like something shat out by a bunch of luded dimwits (and lapped up by his equally luded, I guess, live audience), but Fallon's delivery and timing make the dead seem creative. And such Coolness! (This from a pimp for the crime combine known as Capital One Bank.) How the heck did this guy get his own late-night talk show? How the heck did real estate gangster Donald Trump get to be President of the United States? Both by being psychopathically ambitious Nowhere Men, I guess.
Could this, and the four-eyed tubby sidekick, be parody?
What makes Fallon even more sickening is that he and his gimmick occupy the same Midtown NBC studio space once occupied by the greatest talk show host of all time (and pretty much forgotten), Steve Allen.
Most great stuff from 1950s and early-60s television has been remastered and Blu-rayed. Not Allen's. At the moment, nothing of Steve Allen exists on DVD/Blu-ray or is planned for release, which must make pygmies such as Jimmy Fallon feel very safe.
Legend has it that one night in the late-50s, Allen passed out lemons to all members of his studio audience, then led the audience outside to launch an attack on a nearby fruit stand, run by a guy who'd been mean to Allen earlier that week -- an attack which today would give birth to 10,000 lawsuits and have Allen and his audience immediately arrested as a terrorist organization.
Steve Allen!
