Q: I don't know. It just seems like this issue has a rather obvious feminist component. Doesn't being a woman change how you think about things?

A: Personally, I was more offended because of my Irish heritage. Personally, I was more offended because of my Irish heritage.

Q: Really? How so?

A: End of interview. End of interview.

ABBA 1, World 0 1 Sometimes it's hard to tell if things that happened in your life only happened to you or if they happened to everyone. Every formative incident feels normal to the child who experiences it, so sometimes it takes twenty-five or thirty years to realize a particular event was singularly bizarre. For example, it took me a long time to recognize that being inst.i.tutionally taught to dislike disco in my second-grade social studies cla.s.s was deeply weird-unless, of course, this was a totally normal thing that happened to Sometimes it's hard to tell if things that happened in your life only happened to you or if they happened to everyone. Every formative incident feels normal to the child who experiences it, so sometimes it takes twenty-five or thirty years to realize a particular event was singularly bizarre. For example, it took me a long time to recognize that being inst.i.tutionally taught to dislike disco in my second-grade social studies cla.s.s was deeply weird-unless, of course, this was a totally normal thing that happened to everybody everybody in America who was born in 1972 and attended a public elementary school. I still can't tell. in America who was born in 1972 and attended a public elementary school. I still can't tell.

Once or twice a month (and usually on a Friday), my social studies cla.s.s would not read from our textbooks. Instead, we were given a publication called the Weekly Reader Weekly Reader, which was like a newspaper for four-foot illiterates. It concisely covered the entire spectrum of current events, most notably the eruption of Mount St. Helens, the ongoing success of NASA, and whatever was supposedly happening in women's sports and national politics. For some reason, one of the exposes tackled by the Weekly Reader Weekly Reader in autumn of 1980 was the rising unpopularity of disco, punctuated by "Disco Demolition Night" at Chicago's Comiskey Park during the summer of '79 (news cycles were slower in those days). Disco Demolition Night was a promotional event where a bunch of intoxicated baseball fans blew up Village People alb.u.ms with dynamite in center field. Things, as they say, did not go smoothly. Thirty-nine people were arrested in the subsequent riot, which actually seems like an amazingly low number considering the stupidity of the original idea. There was an allusion to this in the in autumn of 1980 was the rising unpopularity of disco, punctuated by "Disco Demolition Night" at Chicago's Comiskey Park during the summer of '79 (news cycles were slower in those days). Disco Demolition Night was a promotional event where a bunch of intoxicated baseball fans blew up Village People alb.u.ms with dynamite in center field. Things, as they say, did not go smoothly. Thirty-nine people were arrested in the subsequent riot, which actually seems like an amazingly low number considering the stupidity of the original idea. There was an allusion to this in the Weekly Reader Weekly Reader (or at least in the fake (or at least in the fake Weekly Reader Weekly Reader I've created in my memory), and it went on to explain how disco was this insidious, unserious social force. This story was evidently written to convince me and all my eight-year-old friends to continue playing kickball instead of frequenting discotheques. Along with the article was a photograph of four people with comical pants and uncommitted expressions. They were described as "The Disco Group ABBA": They were beards and teeth and natural b.r.e.a.s.t.s and whiteness. I suppose my feelings about them would be best described as "mixed," inasmuch as I wasn't sure if they made me bored or hungry for cookies. Part of me still wonders if this actually happened. Maybe it took place during that academic year I was involved with the Dharma Initiative. I've created in my memory), and it went on to explain how disco was this insidious, unserious social force. This story was evidently written to convince me and all my eight-year-old friends to continue playing kickball instead of frequenting discotheques. Along with the article was a photograph of four people with comical pants and uncommitted expressions. They were described as "The Disco Group ABBA": They were beards and teeth and natural b.r.e.a.s.t.s and whiteness. I suppose my feelings about them would be best described as "mixed," inasmuch as I wasn't sure if they made me bored or hungry for cookies. Part of me still wonders if this actually happened. Maybe it took place during that academic year I was involved with the Dharma Initiative.

But now-obviously-I am older. I have my own beard and my own comical pants, and I am sitting at a computer listening to "The Winner Takes It All" for the two hundredth or three hundredth or seven hundredth time, and I find myself continually shocked by how profoundly adult adult this song is. The chords are sonically limitless. The lyrics refer to judicial proceedings and express uncomfortably specific details about the end of love: I can think of no other pop song that examines the self-aware guilt one feels when talking to a person who has humanely obliterated your heart. this song is. The chords are sonically limitless. The lyrics refer to judicial proceedings and express uncomfortably specific details about the end of love: I can think of no other pop song that examines the self-aware guilt one feels when talking to a person who has humanely obliterated your heart.

I don't wanna talk If it makes you feel sad And I understand You've come to shake my hand I apologize If it makes you feel bad Seeing me so tense No self-confidence The message of "The Winner Takes It All" is straightforward: It argues that the concept of relationships ending on mutual terms is an emotional fallacy. One person is inevitably okay and the other is inevitably devastated. There is a loser who metaphorically stays and a winner who literally leaves, and the individual leaving takes everything with them. Like virtually all of ABBA's music, "The Winner Takes It All" was written by the two male members of the group, Bjorn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson. The vocals were sung by Agnetha Faltskog (she was the blond one), who divorced Ulvaeus in 1979 after moving out of their home on Christmas night in '78. "The Winner Takes It All" was released as a single in 1980. Ulvaeus has claimed that the song is not an autobiographical depiction of his failed marriage to Faltskog, but that's hard to believe when one considers the original t.i.tle of the song was "The Story of My Life."

When thinking about ABBA, this is the song to think about.

2 "When the eighties were over," Scandinavian ABBA historian Carl Magnus Palm wrote in 2001, "it was clear that none of the former ABBA members had any relevance whatsoever in the international pop landscape." This statement isn't false, but it's wrong. I suppose it's true if you use the word "When the eighties were over," Scandinavian ABBA historian Carl Magnus Palm wrote in 2001, "it was clear that none of the former ABBA members had any relevance whatsoever in the international pop landscape." This statement isn't false, but it's wrong. I suppose it's true if you use the word relevance relevance like most people who regularly write about music, but it's false if you think about how the world actually operates. As a rule, people who cla.s.sify art as "irrelevant" are trying to position themselves above the ent.i.ty; it's a way of pretending they're more in step with contemporary culture than the artist himself, which is mostly a way of saying they can't find a tangible reason for disliking what something intends to embody. Moreover, the whole argument is self-defeating: If you cla.s.sify something as "irrelevant," you're (obviously) using it as a unit of comparison against whatever like most people who regularly write about music, but it's false if you think about how the world actually operates. As a rule, people who cla.s.sify art as "irrelevant" are trying to position themselves above the ent.i.ty; it's a way of pretending they're more in step with contemporary culture than the artist himself, which is mostly a way of saying they can't find a tangible reason for disliking what something intends to embody. Moreover, the whole argument is self-defeating: If you cla.s.sify something as "irrelevant," you're (obviously) using it as a unit of comparison against whatever is is "relevant," so it (obviously) "relevant," so it (obviously) does does have meaning and merit. Truly irrelevant art wouldn't even be part of the conversation. have meaning and merit. Truly irrelevant art wouldn't even be part of the conversation.

Since at least 1979, AC/DC has been allegedly irrelevant. When the Knack and Nick Lowe were hot, Angus Young seemed overs.e.xed and stupid. AC/DC was irrelevant in 1984 because they lacked the visual impact of less-heavy metal acts like Dokken, and they were irrelevant in 1989 because they weren't releasing power ballads about teen suicide. They were irrelevant in 1991 because of grunge. They were irrelevant in 1997 because they weren't involved with the mainstreaming of alternative culture. They were irrelevant in 2001 because they weren't implementing elements of hip-hop into their metal. When they played Madison Square Garden in 2008, the always likeable New York Times New York Times critic Jon Caramanica opened his review like this: "All the recent talk of how AC/DC is due for critical reappraisal? Ignore it." As far as I can tell, AC/DC has been irrelevant for the vast majority of their career. And this has played to their advantage. Judging the value of any band against the ephemeral tastes of the hyper present tense always misinterprets its actual significance. Moreover, any act lauded as "especially relevant" (and any critic critic Jon Caramanica opened his review like this: "All the recent talk of how AC/DC is due for critical reappraisal? Ignore it." As far as I can tell, AC/DC has been irrelevant for the vast majority of their career. And this has played to their advantage. Judging the value of any band against the ephemeral tastes of the hyper present tense always misinterprets its actual significance. Moreover, any act lauded as "especially relevant" (and any critic1 preoccupied with hunting whomever that's supposed to be) is almost guaranteed to have a limited career, simply because so much of their alleged value is tied to an ephemeral modernity they only embody by chance. The reason AC/DC will leave a larger, deeper footprint than virtually all of their compet.i.tion is because they've never been relevant preoccupied with hunting whomever that's supposed to be) is almost guaranteed to have a limited career, simply because so much of their alleged value is tied to an ephemeral modernity they only embody by chance. The reason AC/DC will leave a larger, deeper footprint than virtually all of their compet.i.tion is because they've never been relevant or or irrelevant; they make music outside of those parameters. This quality is rare. It's also a hard truth for creative personalities to accept. There's a scene in the 2004 Metallica doc.u.mentary irrelevant; they make music outside of those parameters. This quality is rare. It's also a hard truth for creative personalities to accept. There's a scene in the 2004 Metallica doc.u.mentary Some Kind of Monster Some Kind of Monster where guitarist Kirk Hammett is upset over the band's unwillingness to let him play a conventional rock guitar solo on their new record. Hammett argues, "Can I say something that I think is bulls.h.i.t? This whole f.u.c.king [notion that including a guitar solo] dates the whole thing? That's so bulls.h.i.t. Because if we where guitarist Kirk Hammett is upset over the band's unwillingness to let him play a conventional rock guitar solo on their new record. Hammett argues, "Can I say something that I think is bulls.h.i.t? This whole f.u.c.king [notion that including a guitar solo] dates the whole thing? That's so bulls.h.i.t. Because if we don't don't play a guitar solo in one of these songs, that dates it play a guitar solo in one of these songs, that dates it to this period to this period. And that cements it to a trend that's happening in music right now." When this exchange occurs during the film, everyone in the audience giggles. It seems like Nigel Tufnel logic. But Hammett intuitively understood something the other guys in Metallica didn't want to accept: The mere recognition of an extrinsic reality damages the intrinsic merits of one's own reality. In other words, it's a mistake to (consciously) do what everyone else is doing, just as it's a mistake to (consciously) do the opposite.

According to the aforementioned C. Magnus Palm, the members of ABBA were irrelevant at the end of the eighties, presumably because they were (a) not creating singles that were on the pop charts, or (b) not overtly influencing the work of people who were (like Madonna and Paula Abdul). That's one way to look at it. But a better way is to view ABBA in 1989 like AC/DC in '99-they were neither germane nor extraneous. They were not attempting to replicate or refute anything else that was happening in pop; they were living in ABBA World, where ABBA Music is the only sound that exists.

3 It's difficult to say anything new or insightful about ABBA, mostly because they've already absorbed every possible criticism and accolade that a musical act can entertain. They first became famous after winning the televised Eurovision Song Contest, which is sort of an Old World precursor to It's difficult to say anything new or insightful about ABBA, mostly because they've already absorbed every possible criticism and accolade that a musical act can entertain. They first became famous after winning the televised Eurovision Song Contest, which is sort of an Old World precursor to American Idol American Idol; it took them three tries, but they finally won in '74. Across Europe, that TV appearance raised their profile but immediately shackled them with a credibility deficit that was solely a product of the medium (thirty years later, Adam Lambert would relate). Still, the group had a natural narrative and a romantic appeal (two strange men writing songs for their beautiful girlfriends to sing), and all the songs were immediately accessible and ridiculously well crafted. Initial U.S. reviews were almost entirely positive-the Los Angles Times Los Angles Times called their debut "compelling and fascinating." By 1975, ABBA was the most popular band in the Western world, eventually having at least one number one single in fifteen different countries. And this, somewhat predictably, was roughly the same time dismissing ABBA became the only acceptable stance for anyone serious about culture. The core complaint (from the most predictable sources) was that ABBA records sounded like collections of commercial jingles. In retrospect, this criticism is as misdirected as it is uninspired: By erroneously tying "Waterloo" to advertising, it somehow implied that ABBA were capitalist stooges who wanted to sell something beyond the music itself (in truth, it was the TV commercials who wanted to affect people as easily as ABBA, not the other way around). Much like the Carpenters, ABBA became representative of a musical aesthetic so distant from the edge of rock that clever people weren't even willing to expend energy hating them. The s.e.x Pistols openly despised Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, but they punished ABBA by paradoxically stealing their material-after hearing ABBA's "S.O.S." on the radio, Pistols ba.s.sist Glen Matlock copied the riff for the song t.i.tled (not coincidentally) "Pretty Vacant." As is so often the case in mainstream pop, the fact that ABBA made simple songs that were not political or antiestablishment positioned them as vapid. ABBA's dissolution in 1983 was scarcely noticed by the American media (not even the called their debut "compelling and fascinating." By 1975, ABBA was the most popular band in the Western world, eventually having at least one number one single in fifteen different countries. And this, somewhat predictably, was roughly the same time dismissing ABBA became the only acceptable stance for anyone serious about culture. The core complaint (from the most predictable sources) was that ABBA records sounded like collections of commercial jingles. In retrospect, this criticism is as misdirected as it is uninspired: By erroneously tying "Waterloo" to advertising, it somehow implied that ABBA were capitalist stooges who wanted to sell something beyond the music itself (in truth, it was the TV commercials who wanted to affect people as easily as ABBA, not the other way around). Much like the Carpenters, ABBA became representative of a musical aesthetic so distant from the edge of rock that clever people weren't even willing to expend energy hating them. The s.e.x Pistols openly despised Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, but they punished ABBA by paradoxically stealing their material-after hearing ABBA's "S.O.S." on the radio, Pistols ba.s.sist Glen Matlock copied the riff for the song t.i.tled (not coincidentally) "Pretty Vacant." As is so often the case in mainstream pop, the fact that ABBA made simple songs that were not political or antiestablishment positioned them as vapid. ABBA's dissolution in 1983 was scarcely noticed by the American media (not even the Weekly Reader Weekly Reader cared), and any reasonable person could have concluded that their legacy was already carved into Swedish limestone. But (of course) it wasn't. The core audience for ABBA did not waiver throughout the next decade; the popularity of their most memorable singles (particularly "Dancing Queen") expanded despite minor FM radio exposure. When the compilation cared), and any reasonable person could have concluded that their legacy was already carved into Swedish limestone. But (of course) it wasn't. The core audience for ABBA did not waiver throughout the next decade; the popularity of their most memorable singles (particularly "Dancing Queen") expanded despite minor FM radio exposure. When the compilation Gold Gold came out in 1993, every college girl who dressed goofy played it whenever she pretended to be drunk. In 1994, Janeane Garofalo's character in came out in 1993, every college girl who dressed goofy played it whenever she pretended to be drunk. In 1994, Janeane Garofalo's character in Reality Bites Reality Bites needed ABBA to define her quirk, while needed ABBA to define her quirk, while Priscilla, Queen of the Desert Priscilla, Queen of the Desert needed ABBA to invent gay Australians. The first artist listed in the 1995 needed ABBA to invent gay Australians. The first artist listed in the 1995 Spin Alternative Record Guide Spin Alternative Record Guide was the traditionally unalternative ABBA; that same year, MTV's Kurt Loder gave an interview to was the traditionally unalternative ABBA; that same year, MTV's Kurt Loder gave an interview to Playboy Playboy and mentioned he "missed ABBA a lot." By the end of the twentieth century, it was far more contrarian to hate ABBA than to love them. and mentioned he "missed ABBA a lot." By the end of the twentieth century, it was far more contrarian to hate ABBA than to love them.

Now, who was "right" among these factions (the original ABBA supporters, their antagonistic detractors, or the modern revisionists) is not important to me. I have no interest in convincing anyone they need to download Voulez-Vous Voulez-Vous posthaste, because I am post-taste. But what posthaste, because I am post-taste. But what is is compelling is how this polarizing trajectory occurred. The pattern is certainly not unique to ABBA; it's not unusual to see artists who are (a) initially appreciated before (b) falling out of favor, and then (c) returning to prominence after the fact. But it's more p.r.o.nounced here: The highs were crazier and the lows were grosser. What makes this arc even more noteworthy is that the group itself did not seem actively involved with any of these machinations (the members will retrospectively talk about how they were perceived by the media and by fans, but they scarcely seem to care). They appear uninvolved with the rest of the world; throughout the 1990s, Faltskog did not even own a home stereo. And this natural disconnect is the central reason ABBA has succeeded over time-and it's something I noticed through other people before I realized it on my own. compelling is how this polarizing trajectory occurred. The pattern is certainly not unique to ABBA; it's not unusual to see artists who are (a) initially appreciated before (b) falling out of favor, and then (c) returning to prominence after the fact. But it's more p.r.o.nounced here: The highs were crazier and the lows were grosser. What makes this arc even more noteworthy is that the group itself did not seem actively involved with any of these machinations (the members will retrospectively talk about how they were perceived by the media and by fans, but they scarcely seem to care). They appear uninvolved with the rest of the world; throughout the 1990s, Faltskog did not even own a home stereo. And this natural disconnect is the central reason ABBA has succeeded over time-and it's something I noticed through other people before I realized it on my own.

My first clue, I think, was hearing people talk about Muriel's Wedding Muriel's Wedding in 1994. I don't think I saw in 1994. I don't think I saw Muriel's Wedding Muriel's Wedding until 1997. It did not seem like a movie I would enjoy. until 1997. It did not seem like a movie I would enjoy.2 But whenever I heard people talking about how great it was, they inevitably used a very specific phrase when describing the soundtrack: "It's all ABBA music." They did not say, "All the music is by ABBA," or "It's nothing but ABBA songs." They would always say, "It's all ABBA music." And what I came to realize is that these moviegoers were unknowingly making a critical distinction that explains why this group is so resilient and timeless. They weren't just saying, "It's all ABBA music." They were saying, "It's all ABBA Music." The But whenever I heard people talking about how great it was, they inevitably used a very specific phrase when describing the soundtrack: "It's all ABBA music." They did not say, "All the music is by ABBA," or "It's nothing but ABBA songs." They would always say, "It's all ABBA music." And what I came to realize is that these moviegoers were unknowingly making a critical distinction that explains why this group is so resilient and timeless. They weren't just saying, "It's all ABBA music." They were saying, "It's all ABBA Music." The M M requires capitalization. And this is because-more than any other group of the post-Beatles era-ABBA is a genre unto itself. It's a brand of music that's sometimes recognizable in different songs and sometimes glimpsed through other artists, and everyone naturally grasps the qualities that come with it; you sometimes hear elements of it in department stores or druggy foreign films or New Age religious services. But only ABBA could make ABBA Music requires capitalization. And this is because-more than any other group of the post-Beatles era-ABBA is a genre unto itself. It's a brand of music that's sometimes recognizable in different songs and sometimes glimpsed through other artists, and everyone naturally grasps the qualities that come with it; you sometimes hear elements of it in department stores or druggy foreign films or New Age religious services. But only ABBA could make ABBA Music in totality in totality. They are the only group who completely understands what they do, including the things they do wrong. So if that is what you like, there is only one place to really get it. The rest of culture does not matter. The Grateful Dead were kind of like this as well, but not as singularly as ABBA; while it's easy to think of artists who deliver a comparable sonic experience to the Dead, the closest equivalent to ABBA Music-probably the Bee Gees-doesn't come close at all.

The harder question, of course, is "What qualities does ABBA Music possess?" Its musical traits have been outlined ad nauseam elsewhere: Their records feature a wall of sound where overdubbing makes every detail bigger and brighter than it should be. The hooks are mammoth and the lyrics are unspecific. The songs are made for dancing in a very big room. Now, these traits can be found elsewhere (they're just as present in ABBA replicants like Ace of Base, albeit recorded less artfully due to advances in technology). What makes ABBA different is time and geography; operating out of Stockholm in the seventies, they were (a) singing in a second language, and (b) living with real ideological distance from the trend-conscious worlds of New York and L.A. and London. They had an intense Tin Pan Alley professionalism (if Bjorn and Benny felt like writing an uptempo T. Rex song, they'd just sit down and knock off "Watch Out" in three hours), but they were also laissez-faire Scandinavian hippies who didn't have to worry about crime or s.e.xual mores or health care. It was impossible to tell if they were progressives or reactionaries.3 ABBA wanted to reach audiences in America, but they lacked a framework for what that entailed. Their best option was to make one up. They tried to create a simulacrum for how the American pop ethos appeared to objective Swedish outsiders. This is where we get the weirdness of ABBA: the ABBA wanted to reach audiences in America, but they lacked a framework for what that entailed. Their best option was to make one up. They tried to create a simulacrum for how the American pop ethos appeared to objective Swedish outsiders. This is where we get the weirdness of ABBA: the Star Trek Star Trek outfits, the histrionic onstage super-vamping, and the curious decision to consistently make Swedish women sing English narratives with Spanish outfits, the histrionic onstage super-vamping, and the curious decision to consistently make Swedish women sing English narratives with Spanish4 themes. What ABBA built was a previously nonexistent pop universe: It was a serious attempt to embody U.S. culture, attempted by European citizens who weren't remotely interested in being American. Consequently, it was always a little off. Sometimes it was too much. But it was themes. What ABBA built was a previously nonexistent pop universe: It was a serious attempt to embody U.S. culture, attempted by European citizens who weren't remotely interested in being American. Consequently, it was always a little off. Sometimes it was too much. But it was successful successful. And everyone everyone knew it. And that success became part of the sound. The fact that every human on earth (including their most vehement detractors) was keenly aware of ABBA's magnitude changed how the songs came across. It validated the obtuseness and bewildered the inflexible. "ABBA was so mainstream," Barry Walters would eventually write in knew it. And that success became part of the sound. The fact that every human on earth (including their most vehement detractors) was keenly aware of ABBA's magnitude changed how the songs came across. It validated the obtuseness and bewildered the inflexible. "ABBA was so mainstream," Barry Walters would eventually write in The Village Voice The Village Voice, "you had to be slightly on the outside to actually take them to heart." ABBA had figured something out about America that we could effortlessly hear but only partially comprehend. This was the supernatural element of ABBA Music-flawless, shiny, otherworldly songs that evoke both mild confusion and instantaneous acceptance.

It was never, and therefore always, relevant.

4 There's no reason for me to tell you to listen to more ABBA. There are lots of other people more qualified (and perhaps more motivated) to do that than me: salt-and-pepper soccer moms, the members of Erasure, people who watch There's no reason for me to tell you to listen to more ABBA. There are lots of other people more qualified (and perhaps more motivated) to do that than me: salt-and-pepper soccer moms, the members of Erasure, people who watch Mamma Mia! Mamma Mia! on JetBlue flights, dudes who shop at Crate and Barrel, Vladimir Putin, on JetBlue flights, dudes who shop at Crate and Barrel, Vladimir Putin,5 etc. I don't think ABBA is a band you can really change anyone's opinion about, anyway. It's kind of like trying to convince someone that Coca-Cola is delicious-if they don't agree with you immediately, they probably never will. etc. I don't think ABBA is a band you can really change anyone's opinion about, anyway. It's kind of like trying to convince someone that Coca-Cola is delicious-if they don't agree with you immediately, they probably never will.

That said, I also can't think of any other band who needs my public support less. This, I suppose, is my essential point: ABBA succeeds because the rest of the world isn't necessary. They operate within their own actuality. In 2002, ABBA was offered $1 billion to reunite. That's a billion billion, with a B B. That's $250 million apiece. If someone reads this book in the year 2110, that will still be a lot of money. But they turned it down. "We had to think about it," Bjorn told The Guardian The Guardian, "because one could build hospitals with that much money... [But] we don't want to go through the stress of disappointing people evening after evening." This is crazy for lots of reasons. The first is that I'm sure the main explanation as to why this didn't happen was because Agnetha (the blond one) did not want to do it (she now lives as a semi-recluse and never enjoyed fame, even while she was pursuing it). The second reason is that it would be funny to wake up from a skiing accident in a hospital named after ABBA. The third is that I cannot imagine ABBA fans being disappointed by even the lamest of cash-grabbing reunions (ABBA fans are not exactly authenticity hard-liners). The fourth is that-regardless of how awesome or unawesome these concerts might have been-any tour where a band is promised $1 billion would be doomed to financial failure (the total revenue from every single North American concert every single North American concert in the year 2002 was only $1.8 billion). The fifth is that ABBA is probably the biggest group I can think of that in the year 2002 was only $1.8 billion). The fifth is that ABBA is probably the biggest group I can think of that n.o.body n.o.body ever talks about seeing live. (When is the last time you heard some old codger reminisce about how mind-blowing it was to hear "Hey Hey Helen" back at the Cow Palace?) I could go on and on with this list. But why? The reunion didn't happen, and it won't happen. Unlike just about every other act from their era, ABBA doesn't need the money or want the attention (or ever talks about seeing live. (When is the last time you heard some old codger reminisce about how mind-blowing it was to hear "Hey Hey Helen" back at the Cow Palace?) I could go on and on with this list. But why? The reunion didn't happen, and it won't happen. Unlike just about every other act from their era, ABBA doesn't need the money or want the attention (or want want the money and the money and need need the attention). They don't have to worry about the future of their music, because other people will make sure it never disappears. It doesn't matter if the critical consensus surrounding their import changes, because no one who likes ABBA Music cares if it's supposed to be good or bad. They'll never have to reunite and pretend to be in love. They'll never have to convince anyone of anything. They'll never have to leave Sweden. They'll never have to read this essay (or any essay like it); in ABBA World, this kind of discussion doesn't even subsist. They are so much themselves that they're beyond the rest of us. ABBA won, and the winner takes it all. the attention). They don't have to worry about the future of their music, because other people will make sure it never disappears. It doesn't matter if the critical consensus surrounding their import changes, because no one who likes ABBA Music cares if it's supposed to be good or bad. They'll never have to reunite and pretend to be in love. They'll never have to convince anyone of anything. They'll never have to leave Sweden. They'll never have to read this essay (or any essay like it); in ABBA World, this kind of discussion doesn't even subsist. They are so much themselves that they're beyond the rest of us. ABBA won, and the winner takes it all.

Q: Is that how you explain your sense of morality?

A: Christ, man. I can't answer that. Who knows? It's so confusing now. The world has shifted. Like, I now have all these friends who have kids. All my friends have kids now. Last year, one of them told me that he was sleeping with his kid's babysitter. He was actually having s.e.x with this sixteen-year-old babysitter. I was like, "Dude. That's so f.u.c.ked up. That's so inappropriate. You're her employer." Christ, man. I can't answer that. Who knows? It's so confusing now. The world has shifted. Like, I now have all these friends who have kids. All my friends have kids now. Last year, one of them told me that he was sleeping with his kid's babysitter. He was actually having s.e.x with this sixteen-year-old babysitter. I was like, "Dude. That's so f.u.c.ked up. That's so inappropriate. You're her employer."

"Ha ha," he said. "Ha ha."

1 Sometimes writing is difficult. Sometimes writing is like pounding a brick wall with a ball-peen hammer in the hope that the barricade will evolve into a revolving door. Sometimes writing is like talking to a stranger who's exactly like yourself in every possible way, only to realize that this stranger is boring as s.h.i.t. In better moments, writing is the opposite of difficult-it's as if your fingers meander arbitrarily in crosswise patterns and (suddenly) you find yourself reading something you didn't realize you already knew. Most of the time, the process falls somewhere in between. But there's one kind of writing that's Sometimes writing is difficult. Sometimes writing is like pounding a brick wall with a ball-peen hammer in the hope that the barricade will evolve into a revolving door. Sometimes writing is like talking to a stranger who's exactly like yourself in every possible way, only to realize that this stranger is boring as s.h.i.t. In better moments, writing is the opposite of difficult-it's as if your fingers meander arbitrarily in crosswise patterns and (suddenly) you find yourself reading something you didn't realize you already knew. Most of the time, the process falls somewhere in between. But there's one kind of writing that's always always easy: Picking out something obviously stupid and reiterating how stupid it obviously is. This is the lowest form of criticism, easily accomplished by anyone. And for most of my life, I have tried to avoid this. In fact, I've spent an inordinate amount of time searching for the underrated value in ostensibly stupid things. I understand Turtle's motivation and I would have watched easy: Picking out something obviously stupid and reiterating how stupid it obviously is. This is the lowest form of criticism, easily accomplished by anyone. And for most of my life, I have tried to avoid this. In fact, I've spent an inordinate amount of time searching for the underrated value in ostensibly stupid things. I understand Turtle's motivation and I would have watched Medellin Medellin in the theater. I read in the theater. I read Mary Worth Mary Worth every day for a decade. I've seen Korn in concert three times and liked them once. I went to every day for a decade. I've seen Korn in concert three times and liked them once. I went to The Day After Tomorrow The Day After Tomorrow on opening night. I own a very expensive robot that doesn't do anything. I am open to the possibility that everything has metaphorical merit, and I see no point in sardonically attacking the most predictable failures within any culture. I always prefer to do the opposite, even if my argument becomes insane by necessity. on opening night. I own a very expensive robot that doesn't do anything. I am open to the possibility that everything has metaphorical merit, and I see no point in sardonically attacking the most predictable failures within any culture. I always prefer to do the opposite, even if my argument becomes insane by necessity.

But sometimes I can't.

Sometimes I experience something so profoundly idiotic-and so deeply universal-that I cannot find any contrarian perspective, even for the sole purpose of playful contrarianism. These are not the things that are stupid for what they are; these are the things that are stupid for what they supposedly reflect about human nature. These are things that make me feel completely alone in the world, because I cannot fathom how the overwhelming majority of people ignores them entirely. These are not real problems (like climate change or African genocide), because those issues are complex and multifaceted; they're also not intangible personal hypocrisies (like insincerity or greed), because those qualities are biological and understandable. These are things that exist only because they exist they exist. We accept them, we give them a social meaning, and they become part of how we live. Yet these are the things that truly ill.u.s.trate how ridiculous mankind can be. These are the things that prove just how confused people are (and will always be), and these are the things that are so stupid that they make me feel nothing. Not sadness. Not anger. Not guilt. Nothing.

These are the stupidest things our society has ever manufactured.

And-at least to me-there is one stupid idea that towers above all others. In practice, its impact is minor; in theory, it's the most f.u.c.ked-up media construction sp.a.w.ned by the twentieth century. And I've felt this way for (almost) my entire life.

I can't think of anything philosophically stupider than laugh tracks.

2 Perhaps this seems like a shallow complaint to you. Perhaps you think that railing against canned laughter is like complaining that nuclear detonations are bad for the local bunny population. I don't care. Go read a vampire novel. To me, laugh tracks are as stupid as we get. And, yes, I realize this phenomenon is being phased out by modernity. That's good. There will be a day in the future when this essay will make no sense, because canned laughter will be as extinct as TV theme songs. It will only be used as a way to inform audiences that they're supposed to be watching a fake TV show from the 1970s. But- right now, today-canned laughter is still a central component of escapist television. The most popular sitcom on TV, Perhaps this seems like a shallow complaint to you. Perhaps you think that railing against canned laughter is like complaining that nuclear detonations are bad for the local bunny population. I don't care. Go read a vampire novel. To me, laugh tracks are as stupid as we get. And, yes, I realize this phenomenon is being phased out by modernity. That's good. There will be a day in the future when this essay will make no sense, because canned laughter will be as extinct as TV theme songs. It will only be used as a way to inform audiences that they're supposed to be watching a fake TV show from the 1970s. But- right now, today-canned laughter is still a central component of escapist television. The most popular sitcom on TV, Two and a Half Men Two and a Half Men, still uses a laugh track, as does the (slightly) more credible How I Met Your Mother How I Met Your Mother and the (significantly) less credible and the (significantly) less credible The Big Bang Theory The Big Bang Theory. Forced laughter is also central to the three live-action syndicated shows that are broadcast more than any other, Friends, Home Improvement Friends, Home Improvement, and Seinfeld Seinfeld. Cheers Cheers will be repeated forever, as will the unseen people guffawing at its barroom banter. And I will always notice this, and it will never become rea.s.suring or nostalgic or quaint. It will always seem stupid, because canned laughter represents the worst qualities of insecure people. will be repeated forever, as will the unseen people guffawing at its barroom banter. And I will always notice this, and it will never become rea.s.suring or nostalgic or quaint. It will always seem stupid, because canned laughter represents the worst qualities of insecure people.

Now, I realize these qualities can be seen everywhere in life and within lots of complicated contexts. Insecurity is part of being alive. But it's never less complicated than this. It's never less complicated than a machine that tries to make you feel like you're already enjoying something, simply because people you'll never meet were convinced to laugh at something else entirely.

2A I am not the first writer who's been perversely fascinated with fake laughter. Ron Rosenbaum I am not the first writer who's been perversely fascinated with fake laughter. Ron Rosenbaum1 wrote a story for wrote a story for Esquire Esquire in the 1970s t.i.tled "Inside the Canned Laughter War" that chronicled attempts by Ralph Waldo Emerson III in the 1970s t.i.tled "Inside the Canned Laughter War" that chronicled attempts by Ralph Waldo Emerson III2 to sell American TV networks on a new laughter device that was intended to usurp the original "Laff Box" designed by Charlie Dougla.s.s for the early fifties program to sell American TV networks on a new laughter device that was intended to usurp the original "Laff Box" designed by Charlie Dougla.s.s for the early fifties program The Hank McCune Show The Hank McCune Show. Rosenbaum's piece is apolitical, mainly memorable for mentioning that the voices heard on modern laugh tracks were often the same original voices recorded by Douglas during pre-ancient radio shows like Burns and Allen Burns and Allen, which would mean that the sound we hear on laugh tracks is the sound of dead people laughing. As far as I can tell, this has never been proven. But it must be at least partially partially true; there must be at least a few people recorded for laugh tracks who are now dead, even if their laughter was recorded yesterday. People die all the time. If you watch any episode of true; there must be at least a few people recorded for laugh tracks who are now dead, even if their laughter was recorded yesterday. People die all the time. If you watch any episode of Seinfeld Seinfeld, you can be 100 percent confidant that somebody somebody chuckling in the background is six feet underground. I a.s.sume this makes Larry David ecstatic. chuckling in the background is six feet underground. I a.s.sume this makes Larry David ecstatic.

During the height of the Laff Box Era (the 1970s), lots of TV critics railed against the use of canned laughter, so much so that TV shows began making a concerted effort to always mention that they were taped in front of a live audience (although even those live tapings were almost always mechanically sweetened). At the time, the primary criticism was that laugh tracks were being used to mask bad writing-in Annie Hall Annie Hall, Woody Allen's self-styled character chastises a colleague working in the TV industry for adding counterfeit hilarity to a terrible program ("Do you realize how immoral this all is?"). Less concrete aesthetes argued that the Laff Box obliterated the viewer's suspension of disbelief, although it's hard to imagine how realistically invested audiences were ever supposed to feel about Mork and Mindy Mork and Mindy. I concede that both of these condemnations were accurate. But those things never bothered me. Laugh tracks never detracted from bad writing, and they never stopped me from thinking the cast of Taxi Taxi weren't legitimate taxi drivers. Those issues are minor. What bothers me is the underlying suggestion that what you are experiencing is different than whatever your mind tells you is actually happening. Moreover, laugh tracks want you to accept that this constructed reality can become the way you feel, or at least the way you behave. It's a concept grounded in the darkest of perspectives: A laugh track a.s.sumes that you are not confident enough to sit quietly, even if your supposed peer group is (a) completely invisible and (b) theoretically dead. weren't legitimate taxi drivers. Those issues are minor. What bothers me is the underlying suggestion that what you are experiencing is different than whatever your mind tells you is actually happening. Moreover, laugh tracks want you to accept that this constructed reality can become the way you feel, or at least the way you behave. It's a concept grounded in the darkest of perspectives: A laugh track a.s.sumes that you are not confident enough to sit quietly, even if your supposed peer group is (a) completely invisible and (b) theoretically dead.

1A I lived in eastern Germany for four months of 2008. There were a million weird things about living there, but there was one that I didn't antic.i.p.ate: Germans don't fake-laugh. If someone in Germany is laughing, it's because he or she physically can't help themselves; they are laughing because they're authentically amused. n.o.body there ever laughs because of I lived in eastern Germany for four months of 2008. There were a million weird things about living there, but there was one that I didn't antic.i.p.ate: Germans don't fake-laugh. If someone in Germany is laughing, it's because he or she physically can't help themselves; they are laughing because they're authentically amused. n.o.body there ever laughs because of politeness politeness. n.o.body laughs out of obligation obligation. And what this made me recognize is how much American laughter is purely conditioned. Most of our laughing-I would say at least 51 percent-has no relation to humor or to how we actually feel.

You really, really notice this in German grocery stores. When paying for food in Leipzig, I was struck by how much of my daily interaction was punctuated by laughter that was totally detached from what I was doing. I would buy some beer and cookies and give the clerk a twenty-euro note; inevitably, the clerk would ask if I had exact change, because Germans are obsessed with both exactness and money. I would reach into my pocket and discover I had no coins, so I would reply, "Um-heh heh heh. No. Sorry. Ha! Guess not." I made these noises without thinking. Every single time, the clerk would just stare at me stoically. It had never before occurred to me how often I reflexively laugh; only in the absence of a response did I realize I was laughing for no reason whatsoever. It somehow felt comfortable. Now that I'm back in the U.S., I notice this all the time: People half-heartedly chuckle throughout most casual conversations, regardless of the topic. It's a modern extension of the verbalized pause, built by TV laugh tracks. Everyone in America has three laughs: a real laugh, a fake real laugh, and a "filler laugh" they use during impersonal conversations. We have been trained to connect conversation with soft, interst.i.tial laughter. It's our way of showing the other person that we understand the context of the interaction, even when we don't.

This is not the only reason Germans think Americans are r.e.t.a.r.ded, but it's definitely one of them.

2B Part of what makes the notion of canned laughter so mysterious is the way it continues to exist within a media world that regularly rewards shows that Part of what makes the notion of canned laughter so mysterious is the way it continues to exist within a media world that regularly rewards shows that don't don't employ it. Virtually every high-end, "sophisticated" comedy of the early twenty-first century- employ it. Virtually every high-end, "sophisticated" comedy of the early twenty-first century-Arrested Development, The Office, Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Simpsons, 30 Rock- is immune to canned laughter, and it's difficult to imagine any of those shows supplemented with mechanical, antiseptic chuckling. Very often, the absence of a laugh track serves as a more effective guidepost than the laughter itself-audiences have come to understand that any situation comedy without canned laughter is supposed to be smarter, hipper, and less predictable than traditional versions of the genre. This comprehension began with the Korean War sitcom is immune to canned laughter, and it's difficult to imagine any of those shows supplemented with mechanical, antiseptic chuckling. Very often, the absence of a laugh track serves as a more effective guidepost than the laughter itself-audiences have come to understand that any situation comedy without canned laughter is supposed to be smarter, hipper, and less predictable than traditional versions of the genre. This comprehension began with the Korean War sitcom M*A*S*H M*A*S*H, a series that started with the removal of canned laughter from scenes in the hospital operating room (so as not to mitigate the reality of people bleeding to death) and eventually excluded it from the entire broadcast altogether (in order to remind audiences that they were watching something quasi-political and semi-important). But this collective a.s.sumption raises two questions: 1. If TV audiences have come to accept that comedic shows without laugh tracks are edgier and more meaningful, is it not possible that the reverse would also be true (in other words, does removing the laugh track change the way a viewer preconceives the show, regardless of its content)?2. If all the best comedies are devoid of fake laughter, why would anyone elect to use them at all (under any circ.u.mstance)?

What's interesting about these two queries is the way their answers are connected. The answer to the first question is, "Absolutely." If you watch a comedy that forgoes contrived laughter, you will unconsciously (or maybe even consciously consciously) take it more seriously. Jokes will be interpreted as meaner, weirder, and deeper than however they were originally written. When Liz Lemon says something on 30 Rock 30 Rock that isn't funny, there's always the paradoxical possibility that this was intentional; perhaps Tina Fey is commenting on the inanity of the "sitcom joke construct" and purposefully interjecting a joke that failed, thereby making the that isn't funny, there's always the paradoxical possibility that this was intentional; perhaps Tina Fey is commenting on the inanity of the "sitcom joke construct" and purposefully interjecting a joke that failed, thereby making the failure failure of her joke the part that's supposed to be funny. of her joke the part that's supposed to be funny. The Office The Office and and Curb Your Enthusiasm Curb Your Enthusiasm deliver "the humor of humiliation" without contextual cues, so the events can be absorbed as hilarious in the present and cleverly tragic in the retrospective future. These are things we all immediately understand the moment we start watching a TV comedy without a laugh track: The product is multidimensional. We can decide what parts are funny; in fact, the program can even be enjoyed if deliver "the humor of humiliation" without contextual cues, so the events can be absorbed as hilarious in the present and cleverly tragic in the retrospective future. These are things we all immediately understand the moment we start watching a TV comedy without a laugh track: The product is multidimensional. We can decide what parts are funny; in fact, the program can even be enjoyed if none none of the parts are funny, a.s.suming the writing is propulsive or unusual (this was the case with Aaron Sorkin's of the parts are funny, a.s.suming the writing is propulsive or unusual (this was the case with Aaron Sorkin's Sports Night Sports Night, an ABC satire that debuted with a laugh track but slowly eliminated the chuckles over its two-year run). We all take laughless sitcoms more seriously because they seem to take us us more seriously. They imply that we will know (and can actively more seriously. They imply that we will know (and can actively decide decide) what is (or isn't) funny.

Which directs us to the answer of question two.

The reason a handful of very popular sitcoms still use canned laughter-and the reason why veteran network leaders always want want to use laugh tracks, even though doing so immediately ghettoizes their programming-is due to a specific a.s.sumption about human nature. The a.s.sumption is this: Normal people don't have enough confidence to know what they think is funny. And this, sadly, is true. But it's not their fault. to use laugh tracks, even though doing so immediately ghettoizes their programming-is due to a specific a.s.sumption about human nature. The a.s.sumption is this: Normal people don't have enough confidence to know what they think is funny. And this, sadly, is true. But it's not their fault.

2c Friends Friends (at least during the early stages of its ten-season run) was taped in front of a live studio audience. This, of course, does not make its laughter (deserved or undeserved) any less fake: Studio audiences are prompted to laugh at everything, (at least during the early stages of its ten-season run) was taped in front of a live studio audience. This, of course, does not make its laughter (deserved or undeserved) any less fake: Studio audiences are prompted to laugh at everything, want want to laugh at everything, and are mechanically fixed ("sweetened") whenever they fail to perform at optimal levels of outward hilarity a.s.sessment. to laugh at everything, and are mechanically fixed ("sweetened") whenever they fail to perform at optimal levels of outward hilarity a.s.sessment. Friends Friends had a laugh track the same way had a laugh track the same way The Flintstones The Flintstones had a laugh track- it's just that the prefab laughs you heard on had a laugh track- it's just that the prefab laughs you heard on Friends Friends were being manufactured on location, in real time. For anyone watching at home, there was no difference. were being manufactured on location, in real time. For anyone watching at home, there was no difference.

Now, the best episodes of Friends Friends were funny. The worst episodes were insulting to baboons. But the vast majority fall somewhere in between. Here is an example of a were funny. The worst episodes were insulting to baboons. But the vast majority fall somewhere in between. Here is an example of a Friends Friends script from season two; this episode was t.i.tled "The One Where Old Yeller Dies" and takes place when the series was still a conventional sitcom (as opposed to more of a serial comedy, which started during season three). The mention of a character named "Richard" refers to Tom Selleck, who played Monica's boyfriend for much of that season. This is the first scene following the opening credits... script from season two; this episode was t.i.tled "The One Where Old Yeller Dies" and takes place when the series was still a conventional sitcom (as opposed to more of a serial comedy, which started during season three). The mention of a character named "Richard" refers to Tom Selleck, who played Monica's boyfriend for much of that season. This is the first scene following the opening credits...

[Scene: Inside Monica and Rachel's apartment. Richard is on the balcony smoking and Monica is on the phone.]MONICA: Hey, have you guys eaten, because uh, Richard and I just finished and we've got leftovers... Chicken and potatoes... What am I wearing?... Actually, nothing but rubber gloves. Hey, have you guys eaten, because uh, Richard and I just finished and we've got leftovers... Chicken and potatoes... What am I wearing?... Actually, nothing but rubber gloves.[Chandler and Joey come sprinting into the apartment from across the hall.]JOEY: Ya know, one of these times you're gonna really be naked and we're not gonna come over. Ya know, one of these times you're gonna really be naked and we're not gonna come over.MONICA: Alright, I've got a leg, three b.r.e.a.s.t.s and a wing. Alright, I've got a leg, three b.r.e.a.s.t.s and a wing.CHANDLER: Well, how do you find clothes that fit? Well, how do you find clothes that fit?JOEY: Oh, hey, Monica, we've got a question. Oh, hey, Monica, we've got a question.MONICA: Alright, for the bizillionth time-yes, I see other women in the shower at the gym, and no, I don't look. Alright, for the bizillionth time-yes, I see other women in the shower at the gym, and no, I don't look.JOEY: No, not that one. We're trying to figure out who to bring to the Knicks game tonight. We have an extra ticket. No, not that one. We're trying to figure out who to bring to the Knicks game tonight. We have an extra ticket.

The degree to which you find this pa.s.sage funny is directly proportional to (a) how familiar you are with this show and (b) how much you recall liking it. Like almost all successful TV ensembles, the plots on Friends Friends weren't a fraction as important as the characters and who played them-especially as the seasons wore on, the humor came from our familiarity with these characters' archetypes. People who liked weren't a fraction as important as the characters and who played them-especially as the seasons wore on, the humor came from our familiarity with these characters' archetypes. People who liked Friends Friends literally liked literally liked the friends the friends. Audiences watched the show because they felt like they had a relationship with the cast. The stories were mostly extraneous. But there still had to be a story somewhere. There still had to be something for these people to do, so the show adopted a structure. This is the structure of the previous scene, minus the dialogue: [Scene: Inside Monica and Rachel's apartment. Richard is on the balcony smoking and Monica is on the phone.]MONICA: STATIC INTRO, PLUS JOKE STATIC INTRO, PLUS JOKE(small laugh)[MOMENT OF PHYSICAL COMEDY](exaggerated laugh)JOEY: JOKE BASED IN PREEXISTING KNOWLEDGE OF CHARACTER'S PERSONA JOKE BASED IN PREEXISTING KNOWLEDGE OF CHARACTER'S PERSONA(laugh)MONICA: SETUP SETUPCHANDLER: OLD-TIMEY JOKE OLD-TIMEY JOKE(laugh)JOEY: MINOR PLOT POINT MINOR PLOT POINTMONICA: UNRELATED JOKE UNRELATED JOKE(laugh)JOEY: BEGINNING OF STORY ARC FOR EPISODE BEGINNING OF STORY ARC FOR EPISODE Using this template, it seems like anyone could create their own episode of Friends Friends, almost like they were filling out a Mad Libs Mad Libs. And if those Mad Libs Mad Libs lines were actually said by Courteney c.o.x, Matt LeBlanc, and Matthew Perry, the result would probably be no less effective (were they especially absurd, the net might even be positive). The key to this kind of programming is never what people are saying. They key is (a) which people are doing the talking, and (b) the laugh track. lines were actually said by Courteney c.o.x, Matt LeBlanc, and Matthew Perry, the result would probably be no less effective (were they especially absurd, the net might even be positive). The key to this kind of programming is never what people are saying. They key is (a) which people are doing the talking, and (b) the laugh track.

There are important a.s.sumptions we bring into the show as viewers; we are a.s.suming that this is escapist (read: nonincendiary) humor, we are a.s.suming the characters are ultimately good people, and we're a.s.suming that our relationship to Friends Friends mirrors the traditional relationship Americans have always had with thirty-minute TV programs that employ canned laughter. It's not always funny, but it's in the "form of funny." And because we're not stupid, we know when to chuckle. But we don't even have to do that, because the laugh track does it for us. And over time, that starts to feel normal. It starts to make us laugh at other things that aren't necessarily funny. mirrors the traditional relationship Americans have always had with thirty-minute TV programs that employ canned laughter. It's not always funny, but it's in the "form of funny." And because we're not stupid, we know when to chuckle. But we don't even have to do that, because the laugh track does it for us. And over time, that starts to feel normal. It starts to make us laugh at other things that aren't necessarily funny.

1B Earlier in this essay I mentioned how I've believed that canned laughter was idiotic for "(almost) my entire life." The key word there is Earlier in this essay I mentioned how I've believed that canned laughter was idiotic for "(almost) my entire life." The key word there is almost almost. I did not think laugh tracks were idiotic when I was five. In fact, when I was five, I thought I was partially responsible for the existence of laugh tracks. I thought we all were.

At the time, my a.s.sumption was that the speaker on my parents' Zenith television was a two-way system-I thought it was like a telephone. When I watched Laverne and Shirley Laverne and Shirley or or WKRP in Cincinnati WKRP in Cincinnati and heard the canned laughter, my hypothesis was that this was the sound of thousands of other TV viewers in random locations, laughing at the program in their own individual living rooms. I thought their laughter was being picked up by their various TV consoles and being simultaneously rebroadcast through mine. As a consequence, I would sometimes sit very close to the television and laugh as hard as I could, directly into the TV's speaker. I would laugh into my own television. and heard the canned laughter, my hypothesis was that this was the sound of thousands of other TV viewers in random locations, laughing at the program in their own individual living rooms. I thought their laughter was being picked up by their various TV consoles and being simultaneously rebroadcast through mine. As a consequence, I would sometimes sit very close to the television and laugh as hard as I could, directly into the TV's speaker. I would laugh into my own television.

My family thought I just really, really appreciated Howard Hesseman.

And I did. But I mostly wanted to contribute to society.

3 In New York, you get used to people pretending to laugh. Go see a foreign movie with poorly translated English subt.i.tles and you will hear a handful of people howling at jokes that don't translate, solely because they want to show the rest of the audience that they're smart enough to understand a better joke was originally designed to be there. Watch In New York, you get used to people pretending to laugh. Go see a foreign movie with poorly translated English subt.i.tles and you will hear a handful of people howling at jokes that don't translate, solely because they want to show the rest of the audience that they're smart enough to understand a better joke was originally designed to be there. Watch The Daily Show The Daily Show in an apartment full of young progressives and you'll hear them consciously (and unconvincingly) over-laugh at every joke that's delivered, mostly to a.s.sure everyone else that they're appropriately informed and predictably leftist. Take a lunch meeting with anyone involved in any form of media that isn't a daily newspaper, and they will pretend to laugh at everything anyone at the table says that could be theoretically cla.s.sified as humorous, even if the alleged joke is about how airline food isn't delicious. The only thing people in New York won't laugh at are unfamous stand-up comedians; we really despise those motherf.u.c.kers, for some reason. in an apartment full of young progressives and you'll hear them consciously (and unconvincingly) over-laugh at every joke that's delivered, mostly to a.s.sure everyone else that they're appropriately informed and predictably leftist. Take a lunch meeting with anyone involved in any form of media that isn't a daily newspaper, and they will pretend to laugh at everything anyone at the table says that could be theoretically cla.s.sified as humorous, even if the alleged joke is about how airline food isn't delicious. The only thing people in New York won't laugh at are unfamous stand-up comedians; we really despise those motherf.u.c.kers, for some reason.

It's possible the reason people in New York laugh at everything is because they're especially polite, but that seems pretty unlikely. A better explanation is that New York is the most mediated city in America, which means its population is the most media-savvy- and the most media-affected-populace in the country. The more media someone consumes (regardless of who they are or where they live), the more likely they are to take their interpersonal human cues from external, nonhuman sources. One of the princ.i.p.al functions of ma.s.s media is to make the world a more fathomable reality-in the short term, it provides a.s.surance and simplicity. But this has a long-term, paradoxical downsi