Counter-Currents
Patton Oswalt
3,118 words
If, in a not-too-distant future when everything that is currently wrong with American culture has grown worse and I was forced to testify before a Senate Subcommittee Investigation to Uncover Hate in the Entertainment Industry, I would be able to present copious evidence that comedian Patton Oswalt has repeatedly referred to me as his friend over the course of several years. This is all public knowledge.
But I currently live in a culture that’s so horny to fuck anyone over with guilt-by-association that even pointing to what is readily available and entirely benign information can be misconstrued as an attempt to harm. So at the risk of overexplaining, my intent here is not to cause him trouble but to bemoan what has become of American society. Nothing I’ll be saying here about him is remotely defamatory, unless you’re the sort who feels that merely being friendly to a notorious character such as me is a damning statement about someone’s character.
The impishly amiable comedian and actor made huge headlines this week after he posted a picture of himself on New Year’s Eve with black comedian Dave Chappelle, whom he referred to as “a genius I started comedy with 34 years ago.” Oswalt said that after performing a solo set at a Seattle club, he was invited by Chappelle over to a venue next door, where Patton performed a guest set at the venue where Chappelle was headlining.
Chappelle, one of the most successful comics of the past two decades, faced a brushfire of scolding from the disproportionately loud and influential “trans community” this past fall when, during a Netflix special, he expressed the alarming and hateful idea that “trans women” — who were perceived by nearly everyone on Earth until about ten years ago as “male crossdressers” or “male transvestites” — are actually men. To my knowledge, Chappelle has never apologized for stating the obvious, and for that I respect him.
The next day, after the Usual Suspects howled in pain at the thought of all the Dead Transgender Bodies that would be strewn throughout America’s streets as a result of Oswalt refusing to condemn his friend of 34 years, Oswalt made another post — along with an intensely shlocky photo of himself thoughtfully cobbling together his public apology on a yellow notepad that the Patton I’ve known since 1994 would have seen as sanctimonious and self-serving if anyone else had done it — trying to keep the trans hounds from nipping at his heels:
I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time this New Year’s Eve. We’ve known each other since we’re teens. He’s a fellow comedian, the funniest I’ve ever met. I wanted to post a pic & an IG story about it — so I did. The friend is Dave Chappelle. Thirty four YEARS we’ve been friends. . . . But we also 100% disagree about transgender rights & representation. I support trans peoples’ rights — ANYONE’S rights — to live safely in the world as their fullest selves. For all the things he’s helped ME evolve on, I’ll always disagree with where he stands NOW on transgender issues. But I also don’t believe a seeker like him is done evolving, learning. You know someone that long, see the struggles and changes, it’s impossible to cut them off. Impossible not to be hopeful and open and cheer them on. Also, I’ve been carrying a LOT of guilt about friends I’ve cut off, who had views with which I couldn’t agree, or changed in ways I couldn’t live with. Sometimes I wonder — did I and others cutting them off make them dig their heels in deeper, fuel their ignorance with a nitro-boost of resentment and spite? I’m an LGBTQ ally. I’m a loyal friend. There’s friction in those traits that I need to reconcile myself, and not let cause feels of betrayal in ANYONE else.
I’ve struggled to pick a word for how Oswalt’s latest very public mea culpa appeared to me, and I think the best one is “unseemly.” From a review of social-media responses to Oswalt’s comments, it seems as if most people agree with me, or at least they’re the ones being the loudest about it. As I’ve already implied about trannies, being loud can often be mistaken for being the majority, so long as you’re much louder than everyone else combined.
While living in California in 1994, my wife of the time and I had created quite a stir producing a caustically misanthropic little magazine from our one-bedroom apartment a half-block off Hollywood Boulevard. We produced very limited runs of the magazine, and it always sold out. After issuing three of what would be only four issues, I received a letter by mail — remember mail, where you’d get a glued-shut envelope containing a message printed on paper? — from someone who identified himself as a standup comic who loved the mag but was missing one of the first three sold-out issues and wondered whether I’d be willing to trade a copy from my personal stash for this amazing medical book from 1917 he’d found that was stuffed full of gruesome photos of people with tumors. I mailed him back saying yes, and we arranged for him to visit the apartment.
For some reason, my first wife took umbrage at the audacity of anyone thinking some stupid medical book, no matter how rare or antiquated or brimming with the sort of ghastly images we always used in our magazine anyway, would dare think it was worth a precious copy of our periodical.
I greeted Patton Oswalt when he knocked on the door, and we sat on adjacent couches in front of a wicker coffee table to make the transaction. Suddenly my wife appeared in the room, viciously kicked over the coffee table, and barked at Oswalt: “So I hear you’re a comedian — MAKE ME LAUGH, CLOWN!!!”
Patton is a small fellow, and he was frozen with terror. Either way, we made the swap. I wound up using several photos from the tumor book to illustrate an article in the upcoming issue.
About six months later, after we’d received the fourth and final issue from the printers and were taking some copies to a local distributor, my contact at the distributor’s office told me, “There’s a comedian in LA who’s doing a routine about meeting you two.”
I laughed, certain that the routine wasn’t complimentary. We moved up to Portland about a week later.
In 2001, after I had a very public fall from grace and imprisonment, I received a genial email from Oswalt. In 2003, I invited him to be an exclusive member of a message board I called the Netjerk Lounge, an invitation-only forum that was composed exclusively of acquaintances whom I thought had the wit, verbal acuity, and behavioral traits necessary to engender fun and interesting discussions without completely demolishing the discourse by being loud, obsessive, and charmless, which tends to drive the enjoyable commenters away from any public forum. The Netjerk Lounge was active from 2003 to 2014, which, knowing my volatility, was a testament to the other members’ abiding friendship and tolerance.
Patton was one of the shining lights of the early Lounge, and I especially remember his devastating takedowns of John Lennon and Robin Williams, as well as some of the simplest and best writing advice I’d ever heard: The word “just” is overused and almost entirely unnecessary. (“I’m just going to forget about that” means exactly the same thing as “I’m going to forget about that.”)
You can buy Jim Goad’s The Redneck Manifesto here.
An avid comic-book fan, Patton guest-wrote an issue of Justice League of America in 2003 and told a reporter that his protagonist was based on me: “The main character is a sunnier version of a real-life writer named Jim Goad, who lives in Portland and who published Answer Me! magazine, along with a brilliant book called The Redneck Manifesto.”
The day before my birthday in 2003, Patton appeared on Late Night With Conan O’Brien and gave me a birthday shout-out in front of the whole country.
Shortly after that, I would have my first of what would become six dinners with Patton. I was visiting LA to talk with an independent film company that had optioned the film rights to my book Shit Magnet, and I organized a get-together of about a half-dozen Lounge members who lived in the Los Angeles area. This was the second time we’d meet in person. Due to my wife terrorizing him upon our first meeting in 1994, Patton didn’t tell many jokes during that first encounter, but at the dinner on Hollywood Boulevard he held court, and I gained an appreciation for his comedic timing.
The next summer, after we both appeared at a Seattle hipster fest called Bumbershoot, Patton treated both me and the girl I was with to dinner at one of those Japanese restaurants where they grill the food at your table. This is a photo of Patton I took sometime that night.
In 2005, while touring America as part of what he called the “Comedians of Comedy,” I had my third dinner with Oswalt, along with comics Brian Posehn and Zach Galafianakis. Patton even paid me to do a “guest set” as an opener, during which I read some of the more amusing Netjerk Lounge posts to a packed and confused crowd.
Apparently, I had enough influence on him that to this day, I am listed as his only influence on Goodreads, a troubling matter that I am sure will be swiftly rectified.
For the most part, we remained convivial for years. On the Lounge, he shared pictures of his French bulldog puppy and was supportive during the birth of my son and my surgery for a brain tumor. This was back in an era when Americans didn’t need to agree on everything to be friendly with one another.
But as partisan politicking began to get more heated in this country, so did our ideological differences on the Netjerk Lounge. I don’t remember the specifics — I believe it arose from me accusing Patton of only linking to news stories that made white people look dumb, as well as his apparent belief that even though the country was in the throes of a recession, white people were “doing fine” — but one 2011 tête-à-tête between Señor Oswalt and I on the Lounge led to this conciliatory email to me:
I guess I got you on a bad day Rather than throw sand in the engines, I figured we’d both cool off. I’ve had longer, uglier fights with friends who wound up being friends again, and I figured we’d go down the same path. . . . Don’t think for a moment, despite being surrounded by other optimistic liberals such as myself, as well as floating through the world in the Hollywood bubble I’m in, that I don’t cherish thinkers (and, I hope someday again) friends like you who challenge what I think.
In May of 2014, when what is now referred to as the “woke mob” was in the fledgling stages of what has now become an organized harassment syndicate that seeks to socially cripple anyone who doesn’t humbly toe what is an ever-changing party line, I realized that even being seen talking to me could hurt his career. I sent him the following message: “It’s becoming increasingly obvious that you’re going to have to humbly approach the Holy See and recant for ever associating with me.”
Patton wrote back, “Never. Fuck ’em all. I’m friends with transgendered, conservatives, atheists, Christians, Muslims and whoever the fuck else I like spending time with. . . . Fucking litmus tests.”
Seven months later, Time magazine would write an article about how even the word “transgendered” was hateful. As friendly as Patton was trying to remain with everyone, and as much as he was able to discern that people who disagreed with him weren’t necessarily demon-possessed, even he was having trouble keeping up with the endless goalpost-moving.
The first time I ever saw him do standup was in 2011, when he was passing through Atlanta and provided me, illustrator Nick Bougas, and our lady friends with free tickets to his show. He also paid for our dinner at Pittypat’s Porch in downtown Atlanta, which provided the world’s Ideologically Pure Headhunters with this photo to use against him from here to eternity.
In early 2015, when the one-way Culture War that has since cleaved America into two irreconcilable halves was continuing to ramp up, a writer from BuzzFeed — which was a huge website, at least back then — made public note of Oswalt’s association with me and Nick Bougas. The writer, Joe Bernstein, kept publicly pecking and pecking at Oswalt to account for himself, falsely accusing Bougas of being the “house cartoonist for the KKK,” a blunder that wound up with BuzzFeed paying Bougas a small settlement.
From memory, Patton avoided responding to Bernstein. But mere days after Bernstein tried to wreck his life, Patton was again passing through Atlanta on a comedy tour. He took Nick and I out to dinner again and did one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen anyone do: He tweeted a picture of him and Nick and credited me for taking the picture. He knew it could possibly end his career. He did it, anyway.
You can buy Jim Goad’s Whiteness: The Original Sin here.
The last time I saw Oswalt in person was at the prodding of a website I was working for at the time that wanted to see if I could arrange an interview with him. We met in Manhattan only two days before the 2016 presidential election between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. It was about seven months after Patton’s first wife died — an event that rattled him, especially since they had a young daughter — and Patton confided to me that although he almost always had “the blues,” sometimes he sank into “the blacks.”
He was also intensely scornful of anonymous Alt Right trolls who’d relentlessly accused him of murdering his wife. (An autopsy concluded she had died from a combination of Adderall, Xanax, and fentanyl, and Patton had provided her with the Xanax tablet shortly before she fell asleep, never to wake up.)
I sort of play-pouted that I noticed that Patton had stopped following me on Twitter, but I understood that although I was in reality less of a “toxic” person than I was in my 1990s heyday, the world around us had changed so much that it decided to view me as immeasurably more evil. I figured that one of the reasons he had stopped following me was because he had faced woke-mob scorn in 2014 merely for daring to quote Steve Sailer’s maxim that “Political correctness is a war on noticing.”
I met him in his Manhattan hotel room along with a film crew as we recorded an hour-long discussion about the upcoming election. My opening statements were about how, despite the fact that Oswalt and I agreed on absolutely nothing, we’d still managed to remain friendly with one another.
Our interactions started to noticeably wane, and Patton’s online political vituperations became less and less funny and more and more militant. It was somewhere around 2018 when he not only cheered on the routing of a Republican female from some restaurant in the DC or Virginia area merely for being a Republican female — it may or may not have been the ritual expulsion of Trump’s White House Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders from the Red Hen restaurant in Lexington, Virginia — but whomever the victim du jour was, Oswalt said that things like that should happen to her, and to people like her, every day for the rest of her life.
This was certainly not the Patton Oswalt that at the time I’d known for nearly a quarter-century.
We haven’t corresponded since late 2018, when I told him I’d landed a freelance gig at Penthouse magazine and they wanted me to interview him. He politely declined.
Over the intervening years, it doesn’t seem as if a week goes by where someone online doesn’t attempt to “call out” Patton for his association with Nick Bougas and me. I don’t remember him ever responding to these ceaseless demands to account for his wicked deeds.
As someone who obviously doesn’t mind getting myself in trouble but who doesn’t like to get anyone else in trouble as a result of my own words or actions, I’ve kept almost entirely silent about him, but in the wake of this Chappelle fiasco, I feel compelled to clear the air.
One of the major cultural changes between 1994 and 2022 is that back in the ‘90s, everyone except a small, throbbing cluster of fanatical malcontents was able to distinguish between opinions and behavior. Back in the ‘90s, it seemed as if ascribing to even the most extreme belief systems didn’t make you an “asshole” or dehumanize you to the point where you were “scum” who deserved a painful death.
I still cleave to the 1994 model. Although to many, that will signify that I’ve failed to “evolve,” “mature,” or “grow up,” I think it’s evidence that I refuse to conform to a belief system that I think is factually flawed. I think I’m right in being able to discern between beliefs and behavior. You could be the most woke-ass Communist in the world, but as long as you aren’t an aggressive or passive-aggressive asshole to me about it, I can be friendly with you. Where I come from, an asshole was someone who ate your French fries when you went to the bathroom, not someone over whom you disagreed about whether trannies are actually who they say they are.
Patton is smart enough to realize that no matter how much he bends and bows and self-flagellates, there will always be some loser somewhere who wants to make a name for himself by claiming Patton’s scalp for not being nearly as pure and extreme and righteous as he is. He has capitulated to a never-ending process where there will always be someone woker than he is and who wants to destroy him over it.
He’s helped to feed an insatiable monster which dictates that merely by having dinner with someone, or posing for pictures with someone, or merely being friendly to someone with whom you disagree ideologically somehow leads to systemic harm, suffering, and even murder. That is clearly a fraudulent, totalitarian, and outright psychotic concept. But by bowing to this downward purity spiral of auto-cancellation, he must realize that he is enabling a monster that will one day eat him as well. It won’t be long before he’ll be run out of the industry merely for being a white male, regardless of his past associations with unsavory characters.
I don’t want to live in that kind of world. I don’t think he does, either, but he knows the consequences of even admitting such a thing. It’s a sad day for both of us.
* * *
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26 comments
Tl,DR; not enough racism; here’s your daily dose of street theatre.
https://uk.news.yahoo.com/croydon-knife-attak-police-officers-shocking-footage-113024322.html
Hal- good one ‘….not enough racism…’
Haha…nearly spilled my tea… Chuckle!
Over the years I have found myself in agreement with Muslims who claim that tradition and spirituality are fundamental to life, liberals who say we should stop polluting the environment, Marxists who say capitalism leads to decadence and the rape of the natural world, Zionists who claim that every nation has a right to self-determination and blacks who claim that living in a white society is inherently oppressive to them. They, however, do not agree with me, when I say that the solution to all of these problems is nationalism, and white nationalism in the Western case. To be honest it’s tiresome extending people a courtesy they would not extend to me if their life depended on it.
Agreed. If there is a good argument against “let people divide into societies that they like,” I’ve yet to hear it.
The closest is probably that excess nationalism can more easily lead to war. While I’m not convinced, I don’t think it’s a ridiculous argument.
Whites will never have more than a tiny number of allies among our racial competitors, because it is our race that contains most of the world’s reservoir of “goodwill” – for which we are pitilessly exploited. Only we will save us.
An uncomfortable and provocative piece. The comments about the 90’s are spot on. You could know about Answer Me, Peter Sotos, Riot Grrls, Hermann Nitsch, Zero Kama, Pansy Division, Whitehouse, or stuff that wouldn’t rattle anyone … You could say that shit is fucked up or maybe you dug it, but there weren’t hard feelings the way there are now. The Left and the Right regularly remove “friends” who differ on political views, frequently making a sneering public announcement of it. The internet has made it worse as everyone can silo to whatever appeals to their own stance. I encourage readers to check in on writings/broadcasts of the Left – observing and listening doesn’t have to be the same as agreeing. And the Right has caught this disease as well, with endless pissing contests and purges of its own looking for a purest standard. The Left manages to string together a broad amalgamation of different groups that often hate each other. Its easy when they don’t have a purity standard and just decide to hate one thing more than each other… you.
Apologies aren’t just unfunny – they’re also pathetic. And the people who demand them know that too. I can’t keep count of how many celebrities have apologized for having the wrong opinions only to be constantly reminded of whatever ostensibly awful thing they said or did. Forgiveness never happens.
As long as public figures keep apologizing, the perpetually aggrieved will keep demanding apologies. Why stop doing something that makes people bow to you and whatever sacred cow you hold dear?
Anyway, I broke the aforementioned rule of not using the word ‘just’, but I think I used it properly.
Thank you, Jim. Thank you for not only writing this piece and the Albini article, but also for calling out Albini on Twitter. His capitulation is even worse than Mr. Oswalt’s.
I used to get a lot of laughs from reading Netjerk Lounge–especially the content which featured The Happy Russian. I recall that Vlad adopted a possum which he thought was a dog.
“I am will be naming him ‘Spike” because of pointed tail”.
Ha! You and everyone else.
Vlad on accomplishing two things at once: “We can shoot two animals.”
The “delete ‘just'” rule is good. Even better is “shorten ‘in order to’ to ‘to’.” 99% of the time it will work and make your sentence sound less stuffy. The 1% exception is subjective: if you say what you wrote aloud without the “in order” and if it seems wrong, reinsert “in order.” But it almost never sounds wrong without it.
I didn’t know that Patton Oswalt killed his wife. If he provided the final pill, he’s guilty. Crazy what a little celebrity can help a person get away with. Probably why he jumped on the bandwagon, figured it would help cover him.
Very thoughtful article. I’ll admit that this paints a very different picture of Oswalt from the one I’m familiar with.
This is the tragedy of incompatible views. Or rather, the tragedy of forcing people incompatible views to live in the same society. I imagine if you and Oswalt lived in different societies, neither one of you would be much bothered by the others’ view.
Never apologize for one’s convictions.
Jim Goad: I still cleave to the 1994 model. Although to many, that will signify that I’ve failed to “evolve,” “mature,” or “grow up,” I think it’s evidence that I refuse to conform to a belief system that I think is factually flawed.
Please don’t change.
I’ve lost lots of friends over politics. I think part of the problem is talking about it online. I think there’s a different delivery when talking politics online versus face to face. I got called “racist” and unfriended for pointing out that Asians have a higher median income than white people.
A good example of this is former colleague I had. I disagreed pretty much with everything on politically, but he’s a hard worker and really helped me get started. We had a really intense conversation when the January 6th mostly peaceful protest happened. What was interesting was how he considers himself a leftist but had no problem with Ashli Babbitt being shot when she posed a literal threat to no one. I think it’s easier to realize face to face that you’re never going to change their views through talking and its best to just deescalate things, get back to work, and try to be friends and talk about TV shows you’re watching. I think what people say is one thing but I think life’s experiences also play their part to get people to see things the way they are. What’s the expression? If you’re a conservative in your 20’s you have no heart, if you’re a liberal in your 30’s you have no brain.
I’m with ya, Mr. Goad. I often think about how much I miss the 90’s. Politics wasn’t so embedded in everything like it is now.
The Babbitt thing was crazy. I remember pointing out, to a years-long online writer acquaintance how horrible, on a base human level, and strange her death was: choking to death on your own blood, unable to swallow, looking round you in fear and confusion as your final ragged ballistics tracheotomy breaths were livestreamed round the world. Truly horrible, and oddly poignant, on a base human level.
But no! This upper-middle-class-institution-haunting writer, who styles himself as an ultra-leftist-cum-anarchist ‘man of the people’ (except when it comes to his paycheck; he unironically and hilariously calls people ‘comrade’) was driven into apoplectic fits of self-righteous rage when I suggested such a controversial thing! He nails-on-slate screeched about how Babbitt had brought her death upon herself, then told me that I am “better than that” in thinking such Nazi swill, dammit! Trump (whom I can’t stand) Goebbels had clearly washed my brain with his steady tweet filth drip! The depth of his hate and rage was genuinely surprising, and disturbing, and we no longer speak. For obvious reasons.
What is it with self-righteous, sociopathic ‘kind and caring’ liberals where they are all already to unironically and hypocritically tell/demand their ‘brainwashed deplorable’ acquaintances to ‘do better,’ as if they are children or brain-damaged morons and lunatics? And yet these selfsame shitstains were on Twitter mocking and laughing at Babbitt, posting video footage of her death, and basically masturbating over her death throes? Imagine if she had been black and got shot by a white cop! The cognitive dissonance that would have entailed would have made their poor assailed shrivelled brains pop out of their skulls in a gory sanguine cloud like the bald guy at the start of Scanners!
If modern society is the best these ‘right side of history’ (as they always style themselves, not realising such a thing does not exist and the ‘wrong’ side is merely rewritten as the ‘right’ side by the victor – just ask Pol Pot) loons can come up with, I am damned glad I got to live my life for the first few decades without the net in it, and that I will only be around for a couple of weary, miserable, hypocritical-hate-flecked ‘race against hate’ decades more. Be glad to see the back of it all.
I saw her murdered on the live stream. It was so surreal. All the more so with other law enforcement on her side of the barrier armed with what appeared to be full auto submachine guns. It begs the question what would have happened if it was a black Trump supporter that was murdered that day. Babbit easy could have been arrested and put on trial. In my discussion with my leftist colleague I called her murder an extra judicial execution. It’s so cynical hearing the DOJ’s reason not to investigate and here we have the judicial lynching of Chauvin.
Never liked patton oswalt’s name or his height. Vincent LaGuardia Gambini was too funny to hate and too scary to goof on, escape unslashed, and not get buried alive in the desert. Rather be Warwick Davis and get free drinks from Willow fans than bagel boss guy and be laughed at, or Danny Devito whose money can’t snag better than Rhea Perlman. Thirty-four years and Chappelle is the funniest he’s ever met? Dave’s latest drunken screed-special in biden slo-mo as expected reprisal against establishment creeds supinely delivered more limp deflation than an urgently needed funny kick in our enemies’ rainbow ass. Would an original publication of Streicher’s Der Sturmer be exchange-worthy instead of blastoma pics? The bodies of all institutions most vital down to the less serious like filmmaking and the comedy arts are cold corpses, life and adrenochrome extracted thru trauma and puritanical autophagy of the freaks. The requirement of killing onstage to be a comedian is long dead and are, according to ziwe fumodah and neruda williams-yeah, I’ve never heard of them either-hateful, racist, sexist, and I’m bored. Yawn. Ocean has spilled into five compartments and is taking the Titanic down. Funny, decency, courage, honor, all sunk to the bottom. Guys like jim jefferies and frankie boyle did a 180, withering like plants to neutered pussybleeds who grovel to the neverweres, these nobodies, to not lose face only after losing their fans’ respect, so a pampered token cis-sis or deluded lug wrench lesbian who’ve got the nerve to believe they are funny when they’d both be lucky to work the coat racks. The same clerks-regulars mouthing off to ivy league administratii who should have stuffed them headfirst into garbage cans and kicked them down hills for such insubordination. No need for safe spaces or that conversation about race, just Gunnery Sgt. Hartman. The first tweet I ever twet got me banned when I said of this embarrassing ghoul named lilly singh, “Listening to this slumdog muffdiver’s “comedy” is more painful than a khareshwari baba’s legs.” Some of us just can’t hold back, like keeping your eyes open when sneezing; these inferiors-yes, inferiors, are too detestable for me or you to ever grovel to for any sum even if our families’ lives were on the line. Rather go the Keyser Soze route. Or be homeless. Oblivionized into cancel-exile, yet worth retaining a modicum of dignity.
This is brilliant. Boyle was a caustic prick whose tongue got cut out by the BBC. Somebody I know called him “the poster boy for child abuse” and, given his constant penchant for child abuse and rape “jokes,” that doesn’t seem too far wide of the mark. He went from vitriolically funny to doing routines about ‘deconstructing colonial mindsets” in the blink of amn eye. Probably wished he had moved into a cheaper area of Glasgow so he didn’t have to maintain his expensive lifestyle at the cost of his artistic integrity. Fuck him.
As for Jim Jefferies, it’s much if the same. Another self-confessed could abuse victim and (like Boyle) alcoholic who came up the comedic ranks doing hilariously irreverent caustic and vitriolic material. He hit America, scared himself with the reaction to his gun control skit, and now does lame pandering crap to liberals, long since defanged. Routines about your young son’s diarrhea being funny, Jim? Give me a fucking break. You should have died young, preserved your Lenny Bruce rep in aspic and coke and booze.
Male adult comedy truly is fucked these days. As for the morally didactic mentally unbalanced dogshit of nutcases like Hannah Psycho Gadsby and her misandristic lesbian ilk, or young white middle class female manhater hipsters – don’t even get me started.
Chappelle seems bothered that the trannies have out-victimed blacks.
Joking about the Smollett fiasco, he says blacks were silent through the whole thing cause geniuses that they are, they smelled the bullshit. So, Chappelle, Kamala, Oprah, Booker, Kim Foxx, and countless other blacks were silent? They did not throw gasoline on this hoax inferno?
Chapelle is just another version of MSNBC’s Joy Ann Reid. He is a black racist who loathes “white people.”
Patton made a sweet Facebook post about you in 2016 to promote the Thought Catalog interview. I went looking for it last month because I wanted to show it to a liberal friend and say “that’s us,” but Pat removed it and there’s no archive anywhere. I was really disappointed.
Bill Maher got in hot water for saying “house nigger” a few years ago and apologized.
Shouldn’t that be antithetical to everything he supposedly stands for?
A great opportunity for someone with name recognition to say, “I’m not a racist. Shut up. I didn’t call anyone a nigger. I didn’t make that word up. If you want to hear it used hatefully and liberally, go to a black neighborhood or put on a rap record.”
All this selective huffing and puffing.
Why not worry about your disgraceful crime stats today instead of whether or not someone once called your ancestor a jigaboo?
Subtly moving piece, Jim. Also watched the 2016 Thought Catalog interview with Oswalt for the first time. I have a nostalgia for that era, where the polarization is there but it still seemed like we could find some common ground and hug it out in the end. Haven’t felt that in a long time.
How did Oswalt age so poorly? I was shocked to discover that he’s over 7 years younger than I am. WTF? Did he do a lot of drugs? Is he a smoker or boozer?
That apology tweet he wrote was the most ‘cringe’ thing I’ve ever seen. Even Conservatism Inc types like Ben Shapiro and Hannity and First Things and the Heritage Foundation don’t bend the knee to trannie delusions. (Note, however, his original tweet with him and his bestie Chappelle seems a little wokishly obsequious, too.) Is he wealthy? To suggest that he can’t stand up to the tranny mob is too much. He’s nothing but a bootlicker. I never liked him (remember his mocking Pence for that Hamilton cast blow up?). I don’t watch TV, but I cannot recall him being very impressive in any movies. Sort of a non-entity as entertainers go. Maybe he does good stand-up.
If he can’t defend his taking a picture with Chappelle, how will he live down decades of associating with Goad?
Patton Oswalt appeared in I’ll Be Gone In The Dark, an excellent HBO documentary about the infamous serial killer The Golden State Killer.
The program’s only flaw was that it falsely credited Oswalt’s late wife with solving the case.
I understand Oswalt loved his wife and wants her to be a hero but that’s no excuse for the media to promote his fantasy.
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