The Letterman set, hours after the last show:
Althouse "Real celebrities started showing up, and I winced as Dave would suck up to them. Suddenly, everyone had a perfectly polished, self-deprecating anecdote — invariably meant to prove the utter fiction that Celebrities Are Just Like Us — that sounded suspiciously crafted by a team of writers. Suddenly, each episode had as many as three celebrities, with Letterman being unctuous and insufferable and fake-laughing his way through every minute. At times Dave would turn depressingly earnest, particularly when he thought he had a Deep Political Point to make.... His comedy started to sound like everybody else’s, with the same potshots at the same easy targets. His act sounded less like dada, more like Dad. Letterman was the barking dog who caught the car, was invited in, and curled up delightedly on the seat...."
Letterman’s departure is 15 years too late
. . . "Letterman was the antidote to the lame, showbizzy, let-me-entertain-you style of comedy I associated with Las Vegas, tuxedos and “The Tonight Show With Johnny Carson.”
"I couldn’t believe it when I heard Letterman worshipped Johnny. Johnny was this smug, self-adoring relic who’d have on Don Rickles or Phyllis Diller or Jerry Lewis to mug desperately, pull faces, shout — anything but be funny. They were pathetic comedy salesmen who wouldn’t leave your doorstep until they’d unloaded their wares.
"Half the time, Johnny wouldn’t even be on Johnny’s show. There’d be long stretches of guest-hosting — John Davidson! Joe Garagiola! — while Johnny went off to loaf. The only guest host who didn’t immediately make you want to turn off the TV was . . . Letterman."
Hat tip to Jeff Hayden; Plano, TX
Althouse "Real celebrities started showing up, and I winced as Dave would suck up to them. Suddenly, everyone had a perfectly polished, self-deprecating anecdote — invariably meant to prove the utter fiction that Celebrities Are Just Like Us — that sounded suspiciously crafted by a team of writers. Suddenly, each episode had as many as three celebrities, with Letterman being unctuous and insufferable and fake-laughing his way through every minute. At times Dave would turn depressingly earnest, particularly when he thought he had a Deep Political Point to make.... His comedy started to sound like everybody else’s, with the same potshots at the same easy targets. His act sounded less like dada, more like Dad. Letterman was the barking dog who caught the car, was invited in, and curled up delightedly on the seat...."
Letterman’s departure is 15 years too late
. . . "Letterman was the antidote to the lame, showbizzy, let-me-entertain-you style of comedy I associated with Las Vegas, tuxedos and “The Tonight Show With Johnny Carson.”
"I couldn’t believe it when I heard Letterman worshipped Johnny. Johnny was this smug, self-adoring relic who’d have on Don Rickles or Phyllis Diller or Jerry Lewis to mug desperately, pull faces, shout — anything but be funny. They were pathetic comedy salesmen who wouldn’t leave your doorstep until they’d unloaded their wares.
"Half the time, Johnny wouldn’t even be on Johnny’s show. There’d be long stretches of guest-hosting — John Davidson! Joe Garagiola! — while Johnny went off to loaf. The only guest host who didn’t immediately make you want to turn off the TV was . . . Letterman."
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