SPENCER H. BIBLE, Arts & Entertainment Editor
It’s 2 a.m. You’re tired but can’t sleep. You head to the lounge and catch the second run of Adult Swim programming, or some basic cable re-runs of Seinfeld. It just so happens that it’s the “Broodwich” or “The Hamptons,” whatever you find so irresistible that you crack up, and give it a good guffaw.
But then the laughs are over, the room is quiet except for the TV and bare feet shuffling out of the bathroom. The late night piddler peeks in to see where the party’s at. It’s an awkward exchange: you sitting alone sprawled out on the couch. They, all too aware you’re a sociopath, laughing to yourself in the awful brick room. You give a half hearted, “uh hey,” but the damage is done. They deny eye contact and shuffle off back to their room trying to ignore what they just saw.
And that’s the best-case scenario. Worse still:
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, um George has a small penis.”
“He was in the pool…”
Way to go tiger. Really cleared that up.
It’s weird to laugh out loud when you’re alone. It’s the yin to farting in public’s yang.
The Internet hasn’t made this any easier. There’s a perceived solitude when trolling the web. I know I’m not the only one that has laughed openly in the library, realized I’m making a sound, and began subtly (not really) looking over my shoulder suddenly worrying I’m breathing too heavily.
We’re not supposed to interact viscerally with computer screens. It’s passive, just like late night television, and reacting to passive media is weird.
I used to read a lot of Cracked. My friends and I referenced articles (screw it, I still do) in casual conversation, because the opinions of the Cracked writers were provocative, and in an incredibly readable format. My interactions with the Internet go through phases. There’s a humor site that’s vogue at the time, then eventually I move on and find something else. Cracked was my go to for a while, so it was surreal when I saw Michael Swaim, Cracked contributor and writer, drinking a Hopaliscious at the C-Haus.
I had to text my friends from home. “DUDE, TOUCH HIM,” and “Tell him he’s the best on Cracked by far!” were a few of the quick replies. I was oddly star-struck. Swaim was a regular thirty something having a brew, but I had known him for years as an Internet persona. He has talent. The Cracked team turns out a lot of material, and nothing is harder than being funny under pressure.
He was pleasant: we talked a little about writing and the sci-fi novel he’s been working on for his entire life. It was cool, and I think it’s a nice feather in our cap that Cracked’s road show premiere was at our school. Thanks to everyone who was involved with setting it up, and for those of you who came out on Saturday night, I hope you enjoyed yourselves.
Too bad that the Internet’s just a passing fad. My man in the know tells me it’s all about