Send in the Clowns!!! Holy Fools in the Americas

First they came for Stephen Colbert…and I said nothing. Then they came for Jimmy Kimmel…and I said nothing. Then they came for Seth Myers (because Trump considers Fallon “a great talent, a true friend…”)

Capitalism vs. Democracy. Comedy vs. Absurdity.

My interest in indigenous Americans might have begun with movies, like “Dances with Wolves,” but it continued when I began reading books like Joseph Campbell’s “Myths to Live By” among others. This was my “noble savage” phase. I was young. I liked the Romantic idea of primitive utopias existing before European discoveries. But this phase was not altogether wrong. It was simply an intellectual maturing of how to understand the history of America’s First Nations. Back then, over thirty years ago, what struck me the most was how tribes seemed to solve problems we today would consider mental illness within their own societies. Are you gay or a “two-spirit…?” Okay, you will become a teacher to your people. Are you schizophrenic, do you hear voices…? Okay, you are the next medicine man or woman. When is foolishness wise…? Whenever your clowns become sacred while performing comedy in your people’s ceremonies.

What struck me about this is how too often modern Americans rejected the Other within recognizing kinship ties. The town eccentric or the town drunk became something to whisk away in for-profit institutions, like “hospitals” or “prisons.” Just because a member of your tribe behaved vastly different from your people didn’t automatically mean reject them. In European palaces a dwarf could only find work as court jester. In the Yucatan or Peten rain forest, a dwarf, a hunchback, a blind man or woman was considered blessed. Thus, holy lords made sure to have this man or woman as an adviser.

I have said before there is no “monomyth” of the Americas, though there are about a dozen or so recurring themes. One is holy foolishness. Oftentimes, culture heroes are tricksters. They would likely have admired the Greek who built the Trojan Horse a little more than the Greek whose brute strength performed the Twelve Labors. Most cultures have their tricksters—Loki in Norse legends, spider in Africans tales—but in the Americas we find tricksters that appear a little more modern.

Perhaps the oldest trickster, Raven, came over from Siberia and worked his way through Alaska and the Pacific Northwest. Like Prometheus, Raven steals fire from the gods Sun, Moon and Stars. My wife and I were dazzled by Preston Singletary’s glass exhibition “Raven and the Box of Daylight,” which recounts the myth through amazing glass sculptures and light and shadow. Amazing! We learned that “before here was here, Raven was only Yeil. He was a white bird and the world was darkness.” But through trickery, a flexible relationship to the world as-is, even when paradoxical, unjust or absurd, Raven manages to steal the light of the world. This is how the smoke turned his white feathers black.

Coyote is likely the most famous trickster-hero. Below the Pacific Northwest all the way to the Mississippi River, tales of coyote’s foolishness or feats were told during the winter to make all who heard laugh yet also explain how their worlds were made. Claude Levi-Strauss, the French anthropologist, suggestst that Raven and Coyote likely reached their mythic status because they are mediator animals between underworlds and upperworlds. In fact, Coyote often loses his life while pursuing his chief appetites of women and food. Lifeless and prone upon the plain, Fox jumps over Coyote’s body—instantly waking him back to life. Coyote turns to Badger and asks, “Was I asleep?” “No fool,” Badger replies. “You were dead.”

I love comedy. I mean, I really love comedy. I watch standup comedians the way my brother watches basketball stars. I wanted to be the next John Belushi or Eddie Murphy when I was a kid. And I performed enough standup to a) win a competition by killing onstage b) bomb onstage and c) realize how good a comedian has to get to earn the right to work the room.

I love comics. But I didn’t think our Walter Cronkites or Ted Koppels would be Jon Stewarts or Stephen Colberts, much less that America would elect and then reelect Andrew Dice Clay’s understudy as president of the United States.

That portrait Benedict Donald hung in the White House. You know the one. It’s his mugshot proudly on display. Trump looks demented, not menacing. A phony outlaw. A child sent to the principal’s office. He is the Sad Clown with orange makeup.

And yet the only time he laughs is when he thinks he is hurting someone.

The mudheads of the Southwest were given license in their ceremonies to cure black magic with the antics. These sacred clowns painted themselves to disguise themselves. The Hopi People sometimes feared the Clown Society because they might perform public criticism and censure of non-Hopi behaviors, thus rendering someone guilty of this unmasked facing public shame.

Why did CBS and now ABC fire their late-night clowns? Money. Shame and money. Fascists can’t take a joke. That’s why Hitler hated Charlie Chaplin (The “little jew” he wes called in propoganda). That’s why Chaplin lampooned Hitler in his first full sound film “The Great Dictator.” For nearly a decade moviegoers demanded Chaplin’s Little Tramp speak. Once he finally did? He spoke truth to power, whether “talking Dutch” in a Hitler rant or giving a moving speech to appeal to mankind in the final scene.

Now Donald the Insult Comic Dog has decided he knows talent. He knows what’s funny and what’s “disgusting.” He is the first president whose imitators, like Alec Baldwin, look more presidential than he. You laugh to keep from crying these days. He can’t take a joke, especially when is the joke. He can’t abide shame, despite his shamelessness. The only time he seems to smile throughout his life is when he express some petty cruelty or poses with his best friend the adolescent trafficker Jeffrey Epstein.

Putin has no sense of humor either—that’s why Ukraine drones his military jets and oil refineries. It’s no accident that the Russian fascist has bungled his war against the Ukrainian comic turned president Zelensky. The moment he took office Zelensky put aside his act. How we wish the Donald would have done the same. Instead, we endure one publicity stunt after another. He went from “The Apprentice” to “The Sorest Loser” in a single decade. He sues like a vexatious litigant yet cannot claim libel because his reputation and conviction record make the name of Trump mud.

Jimmy Kimmel will be all right. Stephen Colbert will too. Hell, he just won an Emmy while Trump yearns and begs and “bullies” for a Nobel Peace Prize.

When I heard of how bad the Donald wanted a peace prize (you know, like Obama’s) I emailed Helsinki. No really, I did. I listed all the reasons that Trump should get sent to The Hague rather than Helskinki for war crimes against his own people. I recommend this. When Trump brags about Mar-a-Lago or his hotels, give them a one-star rating and cite sex trafficking as the reason. When someone demands you publicly grieve Charlie Kirk or shut up—cut a far, throw a pie in the face—do not let toadies pretend their your bullies.

Kimmel and Colbert will land on their feet. Trump can’t even walk on his own elephantine ankles, bless his swollen heart.

So what’s funny about 2025? No really what is so absurd these days that you have to laugh?