Dane Cook Day?!
Of all the comedians who launched their skyrocketing careers from Boston, of all the Ding Ho legends and all the Harvard Lampoon superstars and all the innovative comedians who have helped develop this city into a place where material can blossom from festering slop to tightly-woven tapestries of comedy gold...
We just gave Dane Cook his own fucking day.
Today, the Boston City Council feted the man who brought us (stolen) material about itchy assholes and (hacky) material about the Kool-Aid Man, the man who gets to manhandle Jessica Alba on the big screen and who this summer was apparently taken to court by his landlord because he won't clean up his dog's shit. (Unsurprisingly, his stand-up act is also laden with piles of stink.) He is currently meeting and greeting at the State House, after being presented with a beanpot signed by all 13 City Council members.
Martin Luther King Jr. has a day. My mother has a day. Jesus has a couple of them. These are people who, arguably, deserve to be recognized for their contributions to our modern society (and, when I'm low on cash, my refrigerator, cell phone bill, and student loan payments. Thanks, Jesus!) and for their status as cultural and civil icons.
Dane Cook? He sweats and meanders on stage like a spazzy fat kid at summer camp. He's somehow managed to stretch 20 minutes of decent material into 1.5 hour torture sessions, filling in the gaps with tired antics. What has he done for this town to deserve a gold star on my yearly calendar?
As much as I despise his stand-up act, his public facade, and his body of film work, the man has brought attention to Boston. He shot a film here this summer, he seems relatively proud of his Massachusetts roots. By simply being a megastar from Boston who talks about being from Boston, he is helping to put the city up there with Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles as a "place for comedy".
Still. Steven Wright should get a day. Or Denis Leary. Or Conan O'Brien. Or any of a myriad of other funny men and women who are changing the face of comedy, not just haphazardly bukakeing all over it.