Who Stole the Funny? : A Novel of Hollywood

This is a story of a single week in Show Business, focused on Television, zoomed in to the Sitcom. The tighter the shot, the closer the picture. The closer the picture, the more obvious the flaws.

Show business has always been a safe haven for the imperfect

and the needy, a home for the inadequate, a sanctuary for the de-fective. It is a pop culture refuge in which insanity is rewarded—

oftentimes glorified.

The business of show is a singular juggernaut. It hogs the road.

Delicious perversion is the fuel it guzzles. It drives by its own rules.

There is long-term safety in being a passenger—a backstabbing

backseat driver. Responsibility is a liability, accountability an af-terthought. No one dare take the wheel.

The result? Casualties. Fresh road kill for public consump-

tion.

This is a story of very heavy casualties.

Enjoy.

The Phone Call

In the Beginning, there is always the Phone Call.

In show business, life-changing information is almost always

delivered in the form of a phone call. The reason? No one in Hollywood has the guts to look anyone in the eye. There once was a good man who hung up his phone, smiled, went into his bedroom,

and shot himself in the head. The reason? He lost his Cocoa Puffs account.

That incident later became an M.O.W.

Cocoa Snuff
won an Emmy
.

Every sitcom director

pretends to be busy, having

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a wonderful life, while out

M.O.W.:
Movie of the Week.

of work. The truth of the

(No, not M.O.T.W. Don’t ask.) In

matter is, unlike actors who

which the sensational stories of

sit and wait, staring at their

vulnerable people are made into

phones, directors socialize,

entertainment for profit.

and buy cardigan sweaters

and very comfy shoes. Most

also have the annoying habit of behaving like directors in public and even at home (“Somebody get me some water, dammit!” “Yes,

W H O S T O L E T H E F U N N Y ?

Daddy”). All the while, they pretend not to be waiting for their cell phones to ring.

Jasper Jones’s cell phone rang.

Jasper Jones was a middle-aged man in perfect shape who’d

had multiple plastic surgeries to hide the natural aging process and was in good standing in the Directors Guild of America.

“Y’hello,” he said into his phone from his place in line at Saks Fifth Avenue’s men’s department in Beverly Hills. A fastidious

dresser, Jasper was more fashion-conscious than—conscious. Jasper had a closetful of Bruno Magli gored loafers, but now they just weren’t . . . in. Especially the gored line. He needed to wear a different pair of comfortable shoes every day of the week, and since the Sal-vatore Ferragamo Gazette loafers were only $420 a pair, there wasn’t a single reason in the world why he shouldn’t do what was right for his feet, and buy seven pairs. And a new wardrobe to match.

Why the fuck do I have to wait in line?
Jasper thought as he fiddled with his earpiece and his up-to-the-millisecond-model cell phone/

toy. “Don’t fuck up,” he said

(his standard greeting).

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“Jasperoonie!” his di-

HANDLED:

recting agent answered. “It’s

Made money in his

sleep off his working clients.

me. Dick.”

“Dick—it’s Sunday.

SHOWRUNNER:
Someone who

Whassup? Somebody die?”

literally runs a TV show on a

Dick Beaglebum handled

daily basis. In keeping with the

byzantine nature of Hollywood

the top writers and show-

deals, a showrunner is often

runners in the television

the show’s chief writer. Usually

business, along with a few

a good politician but only a fair

directors—Jasper being one

writer, a showrunner is great at

of them. He loved to work

hiring better writers. Works very

on Sundays. It gave him a

hard at being eccentric.

legitimate reason to get out

of the house.

R o b b y

B e n s o n

The Beaglebum Agency sat on prime real estate in the middle

of Beverly Hills. The spacious office (with bookshelves full of classics whose bindings had never been cracked) boasted a stunning

180-degree view on days when the smog (excuse me: haze) visibility was more than two-tenths of a mile. Dick had an oversized desk that he’d paid too much for because he’d been told it was made

from the sea-cured oak of a sunken pirate ship, circa 1650, that was excavated from the floor of the Caribbean. Dick had bought it as a $430,000 tax write-off.

Dick leaned back in his chair and swiveled it from side to side.

“Jasper,” he began in his

overrefined, I-swear-I’m-

n o t - f r o m - H a c k e n s a c k -

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accent, “how’s my wildly

ECCENTRIC:
Affecting a style of

eccentric director?”

dress, coiffure, speech, manner-

In Hollywood, eccentric

isms, etc., carefully calculated to

is good. Full-blown eccen-

give the impression of creative

trics are even better. Eccen-

credibility.

trics satisfy the public’s ap-

petite for showbiz buzz. And

well-cultivated eccentricity gives an impression of creativity while avoiding the kinds of problems that actual creativity can cause, like the ones implied by the phrase “creative differences.”

Jasper hoped Dick meant the brand of eccentric that the stu-

dios and the networks desired (required), one with eccentricities they could manipulate, influence, and regulate. The last thing Jasper wanted was to seem
too

creative
.

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He kept playing with

his cell phone and earpiece

CREATIVE DIFFERENCES: “
I don’t

while he had “the Help” carry

like you! You make me mad! I’m

his purchases to his Jag
.
He

telling!”

jumped into the car and

W H O S T O L E T H E F U N N Y ?

roared off, leaving the Help with an open hand and an open mouth.

“Son of a bitch
,
”
the Help mumbled, staring at the single grimy quarter in his hand.

Jasperoonie drove while rehearsing his director skills on Dick

and trying to give the impression of being
very much in control
.

The ability to appear to

be very much in control is

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an art form in itself, a sur-

WORKING DIRECTOR:
One who

vival skill everyone in Hol-

has a hope of working in this

lywood must practice until

town again.

they are proficient at hid-

CREATIVE-TYPE DIRECTOR:

ing their own shortcomings

One

who has no hope of working in

with false cleverness, pseu-

this town again.

docompetence, and a finger

trained to point at the other

guy. It’s the one skill a work-

ing director must have. It’s more beneficial to a director than talent. As a matter of fact, talent, a rare and almost archaic quality, can get in the way of a director’s function on a television sitcom.

“Look, Dick,” Jasper said, hoping he sounded very much in

control, “I know you love to chat, but why don’t you just cut to the chase. Quicker, faster, funnier. Get to it.”

Dick knew that even when Jasper was at the top of his game,

he was creatively benign. In other words, he was the perfect sitcom director. Directors, even though they are considered to be somewhere near the top of the
creative
food chain, are thought of as schmucks by agents (and the showrunners and the studios and the networks). An agent who handles bipolar writers, megalomaniac

showrunners, and a few schmuck directors must perfect the art of phony enthusiasm/compassion. The agent needs this talent to broker and package a sitcom that gets on the air, stays on the air, and then goes into syndication, so he can make millions upon millions of dollars off the hard work of all the schmucks. Enthusiasm/comR o b b y

B e n s o n

passion gets the agent past

the possible bitter negotia-

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tions or conflicts in egos to a

SCHMUCK:

point where everyone is ex-

A hard worker. A

schmuck must get up in the

cited about the Nielsen Jack-

morning and actually show up at

pot, the Syndication Gold