Comedy Central and Wrongcards, Part One

When my phone began to vibrate around on my desk I didn't answer at first, because my ring tone is the first minute of Tank!, the theme from Cowboy Bebop, and it's a particularly good piece of music.

Besides, people only ever ring me to remind me of my obligations so I have this sense of diminished incentive when it comes to answering telephones in a timely manner. So Tank! rolled on jubilantly until at last, at that precise and practiced moment when 90% of people give up on me and hang up, I flipped the phone to my ear and answered in a tone devoid of any urgency, "Kris speaking." "Hi," said whomever it was, "this is blah blah blah blah and I'm calling to blah blah blah..."

I don't know. I'm not much of a details person.

She had a nice voice, though, so I didn't hang up at once, but let her talk while I sketched a dying clown on the back of an unopened envelope that looked a little like a final-demand notice. I don't know if it was a final-demand notice and I'll never know because I don't open envelopes. I guess I don't like the idea of bad news. People in modern society often get depressed about things and I think it is partly because so many people recklessly open up every envelope that is addressed to them.

But I almost forgot: there was a nicely spoken lady on the telephone talking to me and she was saying something about Comedy Central. And cross-promotion. And Wrongcards. And Comedy Central. And....

"Wait a moment," I said, as the penny dropped. "Did you say Comedy Central?"

"That's right, and we would like-"

"Holy hell," I exclaimed. "You're the guys who created Archer."

"Uh, no... that's FX-"

"I love Archer. Best show ever."

"Yeah ... but FX."

"You know that scene," I sung nostalgically, "in maybe the first episode of the second season when Archer takes out a terrorist with a platter? Then he bursts into tears and hugs some guy standing nearby because he's so drunk he thinks he's saved the life of Santa Claus. You know when you're laughing so hard you're no longer laughing but sobbing piteously? That's how it was."

"Okay. Very different show," said the lady on the phone.

I couldn't help but agree. "I haven't seen anything like it on TV either. So obviously I'd be totally cool to help you guys. But I have to warn you - I don't watch a lot of TV. Except Archer I guess. Don't have much time these days. Stupid career and all that."

"Alright, it's called Workaholics and-"

"Well people say that, but I prefer think of myself as deeply-motivated and not having much in the way of a life, you know?"

"The show is called Workaholics."

"What show is that?" I asked curiously, looking for the pen I'd just had in my hand. I'm always interested in writing down TV recommendations because I believe I'd probably be a much more informed individual if I watched more television.

"Workaholics," said the pleasant voice on the phone. "It's a show about a couple of guys fresh out of college who find themselves working in sales. They're discovering that working life isn't really what they expected."

"They're not spies, huh?" I asked dubiously.

You see, the only other show I've watched in the past few years is Burn Notice. And, occasionally, Chuck I guess. But, as far as I'd been aware, television shows these days are only about spies, unless they're about vampires working undercover in legal firms while moonlighting as sexy forensic investigators who hunt serial rapists who, in their heart-of-hearts, just want to sing.

"... and we think Wrongcards is a good match for the show," the lady on the phone concluded, making me really wish I was more of a details person. And then she said a bunch of other things but I couldn't get myself to focus, because suddenly I was thinking about a really good idea for a television show: vampire-hunting beauty pageant models! And so, obviously, instead of listening properly, I started tapping away at my keyboard. It's a pity, really, because otherwise this blog entry would be a lot more informative than it is probably beginning to seem to you as you read it. But I can't be the only former Harvard bioinformaticist who finds detail a bit overwhelming.

"I don't want to sound rude but I've been googling you while we've been speaking," I said when she stopped talking.

"Uh.."

"Hey don't make this weird," I said preemptively. "It's only weird when I'm googling myself. And," I added. "I've worked out who Comedy Central is - you're the funny news channel run by Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. Those guys are awesome. I watch Comedy Central all the time on Youtube."

And those guys really are awesome. As far as I can tell, they have the only credible news show on cable television in the US. I should probably point out that though I've lived in the United States for a number of years I'm not all that knowledgeable when it comes to big American institutions. I'm not sure, for example, what The Fed is exactly, or how an American Congress is different from a House of Representatives or a Senate or what those three things are for that matter. I've never watched Saturday Night Live or any of the local sports casts because when I'm not sleeping then I'm probably working.

"I think," I continued, "that I've worked out what it is that you want. You want me to make wrongcards about your new show? Like with captions of lines from the show? That I illustrate?"

"Exactly," she said, sounding oddly relieved. She shouldn't have been surprised that I caught on so quickly because I'm nothing if not a good listener.

I asked her if Comedy Central would like me to come up with some captions and she said that they only wanted me to use quotes from the show. So I promised that if she sent me a couple of episodes, I'd watch them and see what I could do.

And that was that. They sent me some episodes and I watched them. A week passed and finally I called the nice lady back.

"I'll do it," I said.

"Great!"

"But first, here is a list of my demands and conditions."

I'd spent an entire week working on this list and it was very good. One of the items was that Jon Stewart had to buy me dinner. Another was that Comedy Central should at least consider buying Wrongcards. A third was that they make me a casting agent for a new show about vampire-hunting beauty pageant models who in their heart-of-hearts just wanted to become prostitutes. Yet another of my demands was that Comedy Central give me a show of my own. And then there was something about a motorized scooter autographed by Stephen Colbert. I didn't seriously expect that one, but I had included it in the list so I could have something to give up reluctantly in some grave gesture of compromise. Because that's how negotiation works.

The lady with the nice voice listened patiently until I was finished and then she said: "No."

Like, to all of the above. Of course I tried to reason with her, but nothing I said really worked. And in the end I said, "Okay. I'm going to do this anyway."

I later realized, reflecting on it all, that I had been dealing with one of those master negotiators like you see in spy shows or political debates. You know, the really clever people who can talk people down from rooftops or persuade them to betray democracy for the greater good. Or convince you that you should vote against free, universal health care in favour of really expensive health care that will ensure that billionaires will be able to buy generations of mistresses skiing lessons in Switzerland.

I am now absolutely certain that this was the case because at the end of it all I was left with the feeling that some of my expectations were probably a little bit unrealistic. I even had one of those moments where I went and looked in the mirror and asked myself how long it would be before I became a danger to myself. It's not really easy being an artist.

And new doubts came to me. One day Wrongcards will probably make me fabulously rich and I'd undoubtedly become a target for people like John Travolta and Tom Cruise. They'd probably buy a house next door to mine, purposefully, just to be able to bump into me by the fence and casually invite me to their church. I might not be ready for those levels of fame and fortune because I'm a bit of a sensitive person and can be a little bit impressionable at times.

To be continued.