From the Green Room: Rob Ain't Grievin'
Monday, May 3, 2010 
Researchers in the UK have video footage of chimpanzees “grieving” at the death of one of their own, displaying an emotion was previously thought to be exclusive to people. It’s an example of how similar humans are to our simian ancestors; it’s also an example of why stand-up comics…aren’t human. Because I saw Jay Leno die at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, and instead of grieving, I took great pleasure in his demise.
Comedians are never content with just doing well themselves. They need to know that every other comedian is doing poorly. They say that there is a sweet joy that comes to us through sorrow. Well, for comics, there’s an even sweeter joy in relishing another person’s sorrow. There is nothing funnier than watching a funny man bomb. Last Saturday, Jay Leno was hysterical. More than he has ever been in his career. The problem is, it wasn’t the material that brought the laughs. It was watching him “tap dance on the beach.” 
The I-Man found out, first hand, just how tough that room can be. Imus had a couple of “crickets” moments back when he performed for President Clinton. Leno had 15 consecutive moments of silence. Jay didn’t just have flop sweat…his tuxedo looked like he’d just climbed out of one of those carnival sideshow dunk tanks. If you’re a comedian, and you’re getting groans from 1,000 C-List celebrities and drunk, phony, brown-nosing politico suck-ups, maybe you should’ve taken those accordion classes like your mother wanted you to.
In show business, when a comic gets to Jay Leno level, he no longer has to be funny. People will laugh because they are used to it. They “trust” that he’s funny, even if, in their heart of hearts, they suspect he isn’t. So it was very satisfying to see Jay return to his stand up comedian roots: one of those “Late Show Friday at The Ground Round in Parsippany” hell gigs. The kind where you hit the stage, open with, “Hey, how’s everybody doing tonight?” and it’s met with a drunk pipefitter’s hearty cry, “You suck!”
It was a particularly good evening for the ol’ karma bank. After the Conan O’Brien debacle, to see Jay struggle so much proved to many of us, the existence of God. Because Conan did the White House Correspondent’s Dinner a number of years ago, also for President Clinton, and he killed.
Jay should just kill himself.
