Louis C.K., 48 Hours, America’s 250th: Spending July 4th musing on myths the country tells itself

As America's 250th birthday gets underway, random viewings of Louis CK's new Netflix special and 48 Hours reruns remind me the impact mythmaking has in our national conciousness

When you’re committed to advocating for equality in America, you spend a lot of time challenging myths.

Some big ones: That America is mostly a meritocracy now. That amassing large amounts of wealth proves rich people are smarter, more perceptive or somehow more worthy to lead society. That hundreds of years of legalized oppression in America’s past hasn’t helped some groups in the country enjoy greater wealth or success today.

And the really big one: That systemic racism, sexism and prejudice isn’t a major factor in American society, right now.

The last myth is, I believe, one of the biggest differences between card carrying MAGA Republicans and their political opponents. Too many issues which have resurfaced in modern times – from SCOTUS’ recent decisions regarding gerrymandering and voting rights to the current hysterical backlash against diversity, equity and inclusion programs – can be traced to this fundamental conflict.

Despite loads of proof that systemic oppression is indeed a thing in American life, doubts about its veracity leads some to believe that official action to balance this dynamic, is just handing unfair advantages to marginalized groups in this country.

Covering media gives you a front-row seat to the mythmaking process. And studying how it works keeps these ideas percolating in the mind.

So it’s no surprise that myths and the prejudice they enable came to my mind while watching Louis C.K.’s new Netflix special released this week, Ridiculous.

When his alignment with Netflix was first announced I wrote about how it was, um, ridiculous to see him shamble back into a big media deal without really addressing publicly the terrible sexual harassment he visited on young female comedians – terrible behavior exposed by the New York Times and visited on performers whose careers still haven’t recovered from blowing the whistle on his bullshit shenanigans.

I also spent a lot of time on KCRW’s Press Play recently calling out how the comic basically used his website and email list to speak directly to his fans, until his growing success eventually convinced a big media outlet to play ball with him again. (No surprise it was an outlet which has also proven a haven for comics trafficking in racism and transphobia, disguised as unfettered creative freedom.)

But what also enabled his return – something I realized while watching his surprisingly listless Netflix special – was an important myth. That he was a comic whose daring and button-pushing material was so bold, it justified and explained why some people just didn’t get him – and why he deserved to be back on top of the comedy mountain.

I write this now as someone who was a huge fan of his comedy. I still treasure some of Louis C.K.’s best bits, including his observation that men are so dangerous to women that, for females, going out on dates with guys is like having a meal with a mountain lion. Or his woeful observation that, for dads headed out on a family outing, their vacation is basically that blissful time when walking from the rear of a just-packed minivan to opening the driver’s side door to start the trip.

But the bits on Ridiculous seem heavy on the dark provocation and light on the actual funny. A bit on how he and his siblings are paying a retirement home to take his dad off their hands so he can die there? How much he loves terrible weather because it keeps strangers from trying to say nice things to him? His definition of listening as paying attention to things you really don’t want to hear?

There is one bit I did like, where he talks about a couple who had a baby in their 40s and complained about not getting sleep -- missing the fact that they’re uncomfortable because they’re at the limit of their abilities, doing the most important thing that will ever matter in their lives.

“People don’t get where they’re at until later…Life teaches you how you should have lived it, but you can’t use the information. You get to the end of your life and you’re like, ‘That would have been good to know, a lot of those things.’ But you’re too late.”

A good joke, but one which still reveals a supremely misanthropic guy. There was a time when Louis C.K. could make that misanthropy side-splittingly funny, without a lull, for an hourlong special. But if Ridiculous is any indication, his success ratio has dipped considerably -- though the naughty words and edgy subjects remain.

You’d never know that, however, from listening to his audience, which seemed to be eating up his work eagerly.

I began to think on how comics can help audiences maintain their own myths. Humor rooted in ignorance and stereotypes becomes bold truth telling, when laundered through the sensibility of a Tony Hinchcliffe. Intolerance over transgender people just trying to live their own lives becomes incisive social commentary in the hands of Dave Chapelle.

Suddenly, people in the audience can pretend they’re fans of bold, unfettered comedy, when they’re really just looking for material to buttress the myths which echo their prejudices, forgive their shortcomings and justify turning away from tough choices. It takes real strength to stand up for people the rest of the crowd is unfairly attacking – piling on against those who already have less power and standing, not so much.

I bumped up against another media-fed myth courtesy of YouTube’s algorithm, which has lately been funneling to me episodes of CBS’ true crime series 48 Hours.

At first, I found the stories mildly compelling. A fireman who didn’t tell anyone in his life he was having a baby with a woman, eventually convicted of killing her and trying to make it look as if she died in a house fire. A young serviceman who seemed to have the perfect marriage to his former cheerleader sweetheart, convicted of manslaughter after shooting her in the back of the head, claiming it was an accident.

But after awhile, I saw another myth playing out. Something an old TV news director friend once called the “myth of life” in news coverage.

It’s the idea that certain kinds of people are living lives where violence, murder, crime and tragedy are unexpected things. Flawed journalism behaves as if it is news when these things happen to those sorts of people, but not to others who may live in a different neighborhood or come from a different culture.

I watched as half-dozen old 48 Hours episodes and all of them seemed to center on relatively young people, living in smaller rural or suburban towns – all white people.

In these stories, even the perpetrators were humanized. The set ups to the episodes always featured relatively attractive people in heartwarming settings: Holding their children, worshiping at church, standing at the marriage altar, or playing at family gatherings.

It was a flood of images showing how these people seemed to be pillars of their communities, until secrets and a brutal crime shattered the façade. One murder victim was a single mother secretly working as an escort; one of her clients was ultimately convicted of her murder. Another featured a woman in conflict with the father of her baby amid accusations she was in a relationship with another woman – she and the other woman were eventually convicted of his murder.

Eventually, I was struck by the subtle assumptions conveyed by these stories. What was considered upstanding and what was not. How, despite presenting a long list of episodes centered on such murders, each was treated as a jarring, singular exception. And what kinds of people were given this kind of humanizing treatment and in-depth coverage – and who seemed left out.

This isn’t to say that 48 Hours never covers cases featuring non-white people. After I visited the show’s YouTube page, I saw a few episodes featuring nonwhite people – though they seemed vastly outnumbered by the stories focused on white families.

More than anything, the episodes I saw on YouTube were an important reminder of the persistence of myths about crime and victims, and the unexpected ways they can come to us through media.

As the July 4^th weekend unfolds and coverage of America’s 250^th birthday progresses, there will be lots of mythmaking underway, aimed at convincing Americans their image of the country – and by extension, themselves – remains on the right side of history.

The toughest thing to face, in the wake of all those appeals, is resistance to those comforting messages – facing the complex truth of a country where marginalized people still face systemic oppression and America isn’t nearly as fair or free as it would like to believe.