[vinman]

An article by Jim Norton.

Quote:

I always feel a more intense sense of loss when a fellow alcoholic or addict commits suicide. Possibly because I have thought about it obsessively for years, and slit my wrists on multiple occasions until being forced into rehab and getting sober a year later at the age of 18.
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No one will ever know exactly what Robin Williams was thinking and feeling when he made the decision to end his pain the way he did. But I do know he wasn’t seeing himself the way the rest of us saw him.
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I first met Robin in 1998 when he came into the Comedy Cellar in New York City to do a guest spot. Comedians tend to be impossible to impress and love to stress how we’re impossible to impress when bigger, far more famous comedians come in to perform sets.

But on this particular night, I noticed that none of the regulars were leaving when we were done. We were all finding excuses to hang around. None of us wanted to admit it, but Robin Williams was coming in, and we were genuinely excited.

Now, any other group of performers would have proudly stood outside with streamers and a welcome banner, but comedians are jaded asses who would rather sit in the back of the room with our hearts pounding as we fold our arms and feign disinterest.

What struck me the most about Robin was how important it was to him that the other comedians liked him. He was always gracious to the performer he had bumped off the lineup. That first night and during his many subsequent returns over the years, he would always come upstairs and sit with us at the “comedy table” in the back (made famous on Louie).

He easily could have dominated the conversation; we all knew the difference between who he was and who we were. Robin was one of the few larger than life comedians who could have actually gotten a table full of other comics to just shut up and listen. But he didn’t. He joked and laughed with us and went out of his way to not tower above us. He probably never knew how much we loved him for that.

By all accounts, Robin struggled with depression and addiction over the years. So many comics I know seem to struggle with the demons of self-hatred and self-destruction. While my physically self-destructive days ended when I got sober, the thought of suicide has always been there, as an option, behind a glass that I could someday break in case of an emergency. I glamorized the idea of constructing my own exit.

And yet, on a day like Monday, it seemed only terrible and unnecessary. It doesn’t feel triumphant or glamorous; it feels sad and empty and incomplete.

The funniest people I know always seem to be the ones surrounded by darkness. And that’s probably why they’re the funniest. The deeper the pit, the more humor you need to dig yourself out of it.

Over the years, comedy has gone from happy-go-lucky pie-in-the-face jesters to the stuff of the deeply personal and honest with the coming of Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor and George Carlin. The public began to see, through brilliant material and public battles with personal demons, that the people who made them laugh the hardest seemed to be enjoying life the least. Maybe all of those jokes were hiding something much darker underneath? The cracks in the exterior began to show.

On January 28, 1977, Freddie Prinze ripped the façade down for good when he shot himself.

In the 25 years I’ve been doing stand-up, I’ve known personally at least eight comedians who have committed suicide.

Years ago, I was told that one of the most important attributes human beings don’t have is the ability to see ourselves the way other people see us. This is normally something I think of when a person is behaving like an ass and not realizing it, or thinks they’re smarter than the rest of us know they are. It’s rare that I think of it in the terms I have been after I heard about Robin.

Robin and I had the same managers for the last decade, and my manager brought him and Billy Crystal in to watch as a “surprise” on the night I was doing a Jimmy Kimmel warm-up set at the Comedy Cellar. I was nervous and my set was mediocre, but Robin treated me as if I’d just blown away his Live At The Met special.

When my mother and father met him after an Atlantic City show, Robin made it a point to spend a few minutes with them and say great things about me. My ego would love to have me believe it’s because I’m so terrific, but the reality is that Robin was smart enough to know how much it would mean to my parents to hear him saying such nice things about their son.

And it did.

There is simply no way Robin could have understood the way the rest of us saw him. And there is simply no way he could have understood how much respect and adoration other performers had for him.

At least I hope he didn’t understand.

Because it’s too sad to think that maybe he did understand, and it just wasn’t enough anymore.

http://time.com/3103256/robin-williams-dead-jim-norton/

[Onto]

Something that's funny is exposing a deep truth in a palatable way.
Something funny is showing the gap between expectation and reality.

Without suffering, there would be no comedy.

Steve Martin once said comedy is a very serious business.

[Que enspastic]

Fat men are funny too. The most self-deprecating can rip into people with ease knowing that any reply will be predictably lame.

[Dusty]

Robin Williams' biggest comedic hero was Jonathan Winters. Jonathan was institutionalized a couple times for depression. In fact, his break out roll was "It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World" and he got the call right after he was released from the looney bin where he lived for months. He didn't think he could do the movie, but his wife forced him to do it.

[monster]

Most of these genius types are manic depressives.

[Old Fritz]

I'm reminded of George Carlin. Much of what he spoke was the truth but he had a hell of a delivery and as such.. most of it goes through the crowds head.

[soup]

Men were originally funny probably to get girls. It's too much faith in one avenue of reproduction. I can understand what it's like, but here's what's happening:

Traditional means of getting girls attention don't work anymore.

If anything, they paint a target on your back.

If you are rich, famous etc. then you'd better have game to keep away the women that Robin Williams let into his life.

Had the guy had a stronger dose of redpill, he might not have committed suicide.