Homophobia Is Alive and Well and Spewing From the Maw of Gallagher

[image created by yours truly via photo-manipulation of video upload]

Anybody with cable access to Comedy Central (or The Comedy Channel) in the early 1990s couldn't help but stumble across seemingly endless performance footage of the comedian Gallagher, looped and streaming forth during any and all hours of the day or night. You know the guy I'm talking about, even if you're lucky enough to blank at the name recognition - the sort-of-Frank-Zappa-looking-dude with an act primarily revolving around the smashing of inanimate objects via wooden mallet (dubbed the "Sledge-O-Matic"), most notably watermelons. It was easy to forget that audiences, their front rows often draped in protective plastic covering, sat through over an hour's worth of Gallagher's more mundane observational stand-up brand of comedy before the spectacular dénouement of messy smash and bash. And while it may have been the watermelon-destruction that solidified Gallagher's reputation as a fail-safe entertainer of the 1980s and 1990s, I always noted that almost 90 percent of his act consisted of somewhat sluggish, non-daring verbal comedy of the snarky and "ever-notice" school (although noticeably clean, as continually pointed out by many vocal fans over the years).

As a teenager, I must admit to initially enjoying the physical aspect of Gallagher's comedy, getting a kick out of the splatter of fruit and milk containers. Who wouldn't at that age? The rest of his act seemed pretty pedestrian, and I often found myself drifting towards thoughts of, say, Richard Lewis. Eventually, Gallagher's spots started to appear less and less on the expanding Comedy Central network, and soon this mustachioed figure receded (in my mind, at least) to the level of late-80s nostalgia, nudged somewhere in levels of cultural importance between Crocodile Dundee and Alf. When I came across a capsule review by Rob Patterson from an early- 80s reference source - "so-called comedian...his jokes are the product of a truly banal mentality, and Gallagher's delivery is that of a precious twit" - I at first found the sentiments a bit harsh, then quickly nodded in agreement. For years afterward, whenever my mind strayed to thoughts of Gallagher (which was not very often, dear readers), my mind immediately assented "so-called comedian".

End of story, or so I thought. For it seems that Gallagher has recently "re-invented" himself as a comedian delivering a decidedly un-banal brand of humor that, while still "clean" (whatever that means), has veered sharply into the realm of extreme right-wing politics (fine with me) and pure, untrammeled queer-bashing (not so fine with me).

Lindy West of Seattle's weekly alternative newspaper The Stranger recently penned an article recounting Gallagher's performance at the Admiral Theater, and it reads like a piece of immersion journalism - an undercover look and infiltration of a radical conglomeration or a vaguely millenarian society. Except that no infiltration was necessary - West simply attended a sold-out show in a Seattle suburb by a moderately established "comedy legend". And while attendees could still count on getting drenched with detritus from the Sledge-O-Matic, ticket buyers could also be greeted with sneering lines like this one, hurled at a young man in the front row: "You have your hat on backward. Are you a homosexual? Because it seems you have a problem figuring out the front from the back".

West's piece deserves to be read in its entirety - here's the link. Because this is not simply an example of a few off-color remarks tossed aside to make sure the audience is paying attention or to shore up some "comedy is dangerous" bona fides. Gallagher's entire act now seems to revolve around endless rancor directed towards the gay community. West seems equally distressed at the nasty right-wing politics also present during the performance, such as Gallagher's pronouncement that Obama "ain't black. You're a latte. You're half whole-milk. It could be goat milk—you could be a terrorist!" Or his complaint regarding Guantanamo Bay, running along the lines of, "We weren't even allowed to torture all the way. We had to half-torture—that's nothin' compared to what Saddam and his two sons OOFAY and GOOFAY did". Dumb as this stuff is, I can't work up too much outrage or bile over our political differences - political comedy is, by definition, only amusing to the flattered parties. But the unrelenting homophobia, utterly devoid of nuance or wit - "Without God, we are nothing but dust. What is butt dust? Is that what you get if your homosexual isn't properly lubricated?" - becomes almost numbing.

In the end, even Gallagher's grand finale of family-friendly destruction can't help but include a few nauseating nods towards no-holds-barred bigotry. Pouring first an oversized jar of Chinese vegetables and then another of fruit cocktail into a tin pan, he hoists his hammer and announces, "This is the China people and queers!!!" before drenching the front row.

West doesn't recount any incident of audience walkouts during the Bremerton performance, which doesn't mean there weren't any - just that they weren't numerous. Maybe Gallagher's audience knows exactly what they're in for these days, and it sounds like plenty are lapping it up. But if Michael Richards' ill-fated meltdown at the Laugh Factory can become a cultural meme, then Gallagher's celebration of unapologetic gay hatred deserves similar notoriety. While he remains as unfunny as he was back in his late 80s "heyday," I guess at least Gallagher can finally refute the banality charge once levelled against him by Rob Patterson. Only what was that Hannah Arendt said about the banality of evil?