Since far too often we only publicly say nice things about people when they are dead I’ve decided to randomly pick a Facebook friend every day and say something nice about them.
May 18, 2019
Today’s person Mike McShane!
McShane is someone I spent years annoying. He was so fucking funny, and on some level I wanted his respect - which meant every time I worked with him all I could think was “What can I do to make him laugh?”
Kinda pitiful, I know.
We did a few shows together, but his comedy was always a quantum level above, I felt drab and dull around him, completely hilariousless, not just not funny but anti-funny, like I was sucking comedy out of my immediate vicinity and replacing it was some kind of pasty mirth-suffocating aether.
And that’s when I knew I had to kill him.
I didn’t want to. He’s a nice, thoughtful guy. Not just funny but a really, really fun actor to be onstage with, super playful, endlessly imaginative, generous and sweet.
Too bad he had to die.
Because while he’s fun to play with I also don’t want to be the onstage fan watching a too fucking funny master with the audience in his hand while I feel like the comedic equivalent of over-masticated gluten-free oatmeal. I don’t want to always wonder if the genius cracks a smile at what I said or wrote. Because he is a genius, and the standard he sets is just too damn high, and when I’m around him everything I’ve done and all the laughs I’ve ever gotten shrivel in my memory.
It’s sad, really. I mean the part about me, not my killing of him.
If only he weren’t so nice. And kind. I’ll miss that. But I won’t miss the silent, gassy fart I feel I become when I’m around the billowing super nova of comedy that is McShane.
It’s been years since we’ve worked together, but I’ve been pretty busy. Too busy to commit a murder. Well, another murder...
The point is I might have some time this Fall. So if you run into him the summer don’t say anything about this. Murder works much better as a surprise. Like comedy.