In the history of pop culture, few have been given as much, and appreciated it as little, as the sad, troll-like creature professionally known as Gallagher. By seemingly every standard other than his own, Gallagher has been obscenely, undeservedly, surreally lucky. Against impossible odds and the better judgment of the American public, Gallagher has managed to ride a silly, scatological gimmick involving taking a sledgehammer to watermelons into decades of fame, fortune and television infamy.
Gallagher has made millions of dollars, starred in special after special 14 one-hour pay cable specials, as he will be the first to mention and has enjoyed a sex life far more active than a man of his non-existent charm and disturbing looks merits.
Oh sure, Gallagher has made millions and was on television regularly for decades, but in his mind he deserved tens of millions of dollars and his own late night television show. I mean, he did smash all those fucking watermelons, right?
What do you think he did that for, his fucking health? Gallagher truly hates his audience. Gallagher hates his audience, he hates a world that has given him so much, and that in turn he has given so little, but perhaps more than anything he hates himself, so he tries to cover up that understandable, eminently justified self-loathing by professing to be better than everyone and everything he comes across.
I suspect part of the reason Gallagher was so indignant was because he realized that Maron did not respect him enough to treat him as anything other than a mild annoyance, a dumb silly joke of a man from the s who had somehow reinvented himself from a harmless dumb joke to a harmful, spiteful, and hateful mean joke. I know who he is. I know what he does. I do not have any particular problem with him. In that respect, Gallagher comes off a little like Bill Cosby in that it is difficult to reconcile the lovable clown children adored and thought was one of them with the awful, hateful, grotesquely entitled and bitter men they eventually became.
Gallagher rages against the ghost of Johnny Carson for the unforgivable crime of not liking prop comics despite Carson being a magician! As long as Gallagher is in the world of old school comedy gossip, things are relatively civil. Gallagher then recounts how he tried to sell the Veg-o-Matic routine that made him famous to George Carlin and Albert Brooks but they inexplicably turned him down.
Gallagher tells stories that sound too good to be true, from how he travels the country teaching people about physics he was a chemist by trade before he became a comedian to owning the rights to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles before they became the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Gallagher does not like that assertion at all. You're numb.
You wander around and you don't want to tell your family. And you just figure, 'Oh well, I don't get to retire now, I'll have to keep working,' and so I did that until I finally had a heart attack. And that's where I'm at now. Gallagher has given most of his leftover assets to his children for fear that they would be left to deal with legal problems after his death. At one point, Spears reminds him that he's not dead yet, to which he flatly replies, "I died in March.
When asked if he still likes smashing watermelons to this day, Gallagher offered another melancholy response, saying he "doesn't care" and that he lets others do it, "because they need memories. It's hard not to feel bad for the comedian as he describes his day-to-day routine of sleeping in a Super 8 motel, walking to a Buffalo Wild Wings restaurant and picking up discarded objects along the road.
At one point he frames his hardships in an almost poetic manner, reflecting his disappointment with the American dream:. It just seems odd to me. News U. Politics Joe Biden Congress Extremism.
Special Projects Highline. HuffPost Personal Video Horoscopes.
0コメント