Too Soon?

 If I were making a list of my favorite comedians, I would not be putting Gilbert Gottfried at the top. Probably somewhere in the middle, safely tucked away below a number of other luminaries of the trade. Which is by no means an attempt to disparage Mister Gottfried. On the contrary. If there is disparaging to do it is on me that my attention span does not allow me to keep and hold idols as long as I might. I can say that having people like Woody Allen, Bill Cosby and Louis C.K. knocked off that top tier for reasons that should be obvious makes more room on my list. 

What I can say about Gilbert is something that was echoed in the week following his untimely passing. His peers referred to Gilbert Gottfried as a "comedian's comedian." This I take to mean that when people who make other people laugh for a living are looking for someone to make them laugh, they turn to Gilbert. Nowhere was this more in evidence than the Friars Club Roast of Hugh Hefner. This comic celebration was held on September 29, 2001. For you students of history, this was less than three weeks after September 11. Laughter was in short supply, but oddly this roast coincided with the first episode of Saturday Night Live after the attacks. Lorne Michael's crew took a more somber approach to their yuks, leading with a tribute to the fallen and a light jab by then Mayor of America, Rudy Giuliani. 

This was not the way Gilbert Gottfried went after the elephant in the room. Instead, he loaded up with this one: "I have to catch a flight to California, I can't get a direct flight - they say they have to stop at the Empire State Building first." This line was not met with silence, but with a few chuckles and then a unified groan. Which sent him into his comedian's bag of tricks, and he came up with one of comedy's best kept secrets: The Aristocrats. This chestnut of a joke is simple enough, but as Gilbert unleashed it on the crowd, it became clear that he was not going to leave anyone unoffended. HIs embellishments became a legendary milestone in the history of all things awful, and when everyone in the room was doubled over by the sheer tenacity of his litany of his objectionable descriptions of this "family act," he dropped the punch line and went on to become a icon in the eyes of those in attendance. 

While it is true that in hindsight, the whole segment doesn't hold up very well. What stands out to this day, however, is Gilbert Gottfried's willingness to go so far out on a limb as to have it snap and send him plummeting to his peril. Only to turn that moment into a massive catharsis for everyone who was listening to him at that moment. He made them laugh. Some might say against their will, and certainly their better instincts. 

Ten years later, in response to the Tsunami that devastated Japan, Gilbert tossed this one out on Twitter: "Japan is really advanced. They don't go to the beach. The beach comes to them." This wasn't three weeks later. This was just more like hours. That little outburst of whimsy cost him his job as the voice of the AFFLAC duck. 

Still, both of these incidents don't redefine tasteless like the apocryphal tale of Mister Gottfried's chance meeting with Jaqueline Onassis at a ritzy gala when he was still an up-and-coming comic. Trying to find something to talk about, he tossed out this conversation starter, "So, do you remember where you were when you heard Kennedy was shot?"

This may or may not have happened, but if it truly did, it happened thanks to Gilbert Gottfried's unwillingness to take things down a notch. It is surprising to many who knew him that he ended up dying from a rare form of muscular dystrophy. It seemed much more likely that he would be beaten to death by a group of angry widows. Aloha, Gilbert. You stomped on the Terra and forced us all to roll around on it laughing. You will be missed.