I so don’t care about the comedy on the hill regarding the Man Who Would be Speaker. (Recall that Aristotle defined tragedy as being about those greater than us, and comedy about those less than us.)
It seemed likely McCarthy would sell out all his authority for the title, and that became certain when he caved on his last firewall of requiring five votes to force a vote to remove the speaker, and accepted that any Representative could do it single-handedly. Amazingly, even that might not get him elected, a fitting tribute to the high esteem in which he is clearly held by all.
My expectations for the House this term are minimal: They must raise the debt ceiling in the next couple of months, and pass at least a continuing resolution to keep the government’s doors open towards the end of the year. Failure to do so, which seems all too possible, will become a tragedy.
By the way, google sent me to an essay by Prof. David Simpson of DePaul on Aristotle’s view of comedy, which may be encouraging the the Speakerette:
According to Aristotle (who speculates on the matter in his Poetics), ancient comedy originated with the komos, a curious and improbable spectacle in which a company of festive males apparently sang, danced, and cavorted rollickingly around the image of a large phallus. (If this theory is true, by the way, it gives a whole new meaning to the phrase “stand-up routine.”)
Accurate or not, the linking of the origins of comedy to some sort of phallic ritual or festival of mirth seems both plausible and appropriate, since for most of its history–from Aristophanes to Seinfeld–comedy has involved a high-spirited celebration of human sexuality and the triumph of eros. As a rule, tragedies occur on the battlefield or in a palace’s great hall; a more likely setting for comedy is the bedroom or bathroom.
On the other hand, it’s not true that a film or literary work must involve sexual humor or even be funny in order to qualify as a comedy. A happy ending is all that’s required.
I refuse to make the obvious joke.