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Hello it's my Birthday | Introducing the Scaffold
I am 49 years old and I want to tell you about comedy.
I have a burning pit inside my body. This time it’s not just because I’ve been eating peaches out of the fire.
I’ll share a few birthday thoughts. But first let me whip the cover off a few things.
I am intensely bothered by comedy. It is my art and I want to get into the weeds about it. I’m calling this section The Scaffold. What would be under a gallows? The scaffold. Get it? ‘Course you do. Double finger guns all round.
It bothers the feces out of me that comedy is under pressure from two major forces. First, the push of comedy politically to the right where it does not belong, and second, the crush of tech billionaires getting super wealthy off free work from creators.
Those two things make me angry and I want to lay out exactly why before I descend into a gibbering puddle of whispy-white hairs unable to digest his charred peach pits.
You’ll see what I mean as they come through your inbox but here’s a few that have come through so far.
Also: More Paid-Only Content
Thank you to everyone who has subscribed here and an extra special thanks to those of you who have become paid subscribers. Until now I’ve been relying on the fact that I know most of the paid folks personally, and thus not doing any extra work for them. But I’m going to grow up and start rewarding them more.
There will still be free comedy but paid folks will get more.
Free Subscribers please note: It is 100% fine with me if you stay a free subscriber forever. Or even if you just happen by from time to time and don’t subscribe at all. I’m happy to have your time and attention however you feel comfortable.
If you should choose to share something I’ve written with someone else that’s worth more than money anyway.
I have the subscription cost as low as Substack will let me set it but $5 a month is still a lot.
How Does it Feel to be 49?
I did a very easy work out on Monday and my legs feel like I borrowed them from someone mummified in hot glue. This is my fault for not exercising regularly enough but, in my defense, I didn’t want to.
I have been referring to myself as “almost 50” for a year or two now and it does annoy WGW. But I’m trying to work myself up to that moment, a year from today, when I really am half a century old.
My sister kindly sent a birthday card listing stuff that happened in my birth year, 1974. Here’s a big list on Wikipedia.
Overall, I’m unbelievably lucky. The world’s greatest wife is married to me. I have the time and privilege to be able to write. It has been my lifelong goal to manage to make a living as an artist, and while I haven’t achieved that, I haven’t given up.
I hope you’re well out there, and thanks again for reading.