Since I realized about Norm MacDonald dying of most cancers yesterday on the age of 61, I’ve been knee-deep in tweets memorializing the comedy legend and compilation movies showcasing his distinctive fashion. The person was a grasp of the Groaner. The kind of jokes that might pressure an unpreventable and involuntary groan to flee your throat.
He achieved this not solely by an irreverence to his material. However by an irreverence to the viewers watching him. He was an early pioneer of “anti-humor” — long-winded and convoluted tales that quantity to little greater than an affordable pun, or no joke in any respect. In these cases, we had been the joke. He’d string us alongside for 5 minutes — that signature, everlasting smirk on his face — solely to ship a severely underwhelming punchline.