Reader Finds White Guy’s Jokes Unfunny

Cathy Andrews of Long Beach writes:

I for one don’t think Jeff Wayne is funny, but I certainly think he has a right to his opinion. The problem with him and the rest of his whiny lot is that they twist the truth to serve their own purpose.

Are we really to believe that after hundreds of years of oppression, years of Jim Crow, and legal segregation that minorities have reached parity with whites?. . .

Mr. Wayne cries that he is not responsible for the sins of his grandfathers. What about his father who sat back in the ‘50s and condoned segregation? More than that, typically, he wants to have it both ways. When there is talk of Yankee whatever, of American whatever, the genius of the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, anything great and meaningful in the country, Mr. Wayne and his ilk puff up like little peacocks and welcome the kudos on behalf of their ancestors. However, they just can’t be bothered with any mistakes. . .

Jeff Wayne, for those who missed that column, is a stand-up comedian who will soon be releasing a CD with the self-explanatory title “It’s OK to Be a White Male.” His humor is inspired by the bewilderment of straight white guys who feel put-upon by grievances of militant gays, feminists and minorities.

Like the time Wayne was caught in a traffic jam caused by a passing parade of protesters shouting, “We’re queer and we’re here!”

After a half-hour, the comic says, he got out of his car, shouting: “Hey! I’m straight and I’m late!”

It would be interesting if Cathy Andrews could meet Jeff Wayne, because my guess is that she’d actually like him and laugh a little. She wouldn’t necessarily agree with his point of view, but that’s not a requirement for laughter.

Jeff Wayne, now a resident of ethnically diverse Arleta, describes himself as “white trash from Kentucky.” He mines serious matters for humor with a self-deprecating wit and a likability that enables him to win over audiences that include all his various targets. Indeed, his live act reaches a peak when it touches on the taboo of white-black relations:

“When I see these militant African Americans on television--” and with that line, as Wayne knew it would, the audience suddenly becomes silent. “Yeah, that got you quiet, didn’t it? You can talk about every minority except black people and then white people get a little uptight.” Here he mimics the voice of white fear. “ ‘Oh, Jesus Christ! . . . There’s some here! Doesn’t he see them?!? . . . They might have ice picks!’ “

This particular joke is more about whites than blacks . And at this point, Jeff Wayne adds a little moralizing: “If you’re white and you’re feeling a little uptight, I suggest you might have a problem. Because everybody in this audience is just a person to me, OK?”

Apart from the need to fill my quota of three columns per week, I wrote about Jeff Wayne in the interest of public health and sanity. We’ll need to keep our wits, and wit, about us in the next few years, because of the growing crusade (led mostly by white males) to eliminate such programs as affirmative action and minority set-asides. Up in Sacramento, there’s talk that this fight will make Proposition 187 feel like child’s play.

Cathy Andrews alludes to Jeff Wayne’s crack about being blamed for the past: “You want to dig up my grandpa and kick his ass? You go right ahead.” Reconciling the past with the present is a struggle to last well into the future. Here’s to the hope that a comic like Jeff Wayne, not unlike Cheech Marin or Robert Townsend, can help ease the way.

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Today being Reader Mail Day, there are just a couple of special letters from the files I’d like to share.

The first concerns Bob Horn, the former Cal State Northridge political science professor who is stricken with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis and now lives a productive, inspiring life attached to an artificial lung. Horn and his family have been the subject of a few columns, the most recent running on Thanksgiving Day.

Cheri Rae McKinney of Santa Barbara writes:

A few years back I was a “returned” student--a full-time political science major at the age of 32. Dr. Horn was the one professor who made all the difference to me . . . . It was my good luck to be in Dr. Horn’s class.

It only took a few weeks for me to realize I belonged in political science; I switched majors and never regretted my decision for a moment. I took Dr. Horn’s Soviet Foreign Policy classes, and he talked me into taking his Model United Nations course . . . . It was a wonderful class; at the end of the semester our entire class pitched in and purchased a beautiful new bicycle for Dr. Horn. (He had been riding a rusty wreck before that.) . . .

My heart aches to know about the deterioration of this vital man’s physical condition, and I’m not at all surprised to know how active his mind remains . . . . He is a teacher. A Great One!

And, finally, there is this one concerning the late Mario Ceremano, who last summer shared his experience of coping with blindness. He died of AIDS two days before Christmas. Mario had worked many years as a licensed vocational nurse.

Gertrude Jarvis of Burbank writes:

When I read your article about Mario Ceremano it made me very sad. Back in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s he took care of my mother at the Burbank Beverly Manor. He was such a kind, caring person. My mother loved him. If there were any problems we both knew Mario would help if at all possible.

Enclosed was a note of sympathy, for me to address and mail to Mario’s parents.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays.