Of all of the hip phrases the Internet age has given us, jumping the shark might be the most useful. See jumptheshark.com if you are not familiar with the term. Like many English phrases, this one two seems a bit inaccurate, just as head over heels doesn't make sense to me, unless I suppose a word like fall or flip precedes it. TV's Happy Days jumped the shark long before Henry Winkler slapped on a pair of skis. It was all downhill for that show after Richie's mysterious older brother Chuck disappeared in the first season, never to be mentioned again.

The real low point of that show, however, was the dream-sequence episode starring Robin Williams as Mork, everybody's favorite alien--besides Alf, ET, and those aliens who kill people. I remember coming into school one day to be greeted by people speaking in strange tongues-- Shazbat and Nanu-nanu haunted me at every turn. Maybe it's that first feeling of being left out of the joke that has kept me from ever being a fan of Robin Williams. Maybe it is the fact that saying that strikes many comedy aficianados as heresy, but it seems that not thinking Robin Williams is funny is a secret source of guilt for many.

I will admit that I find some of his stand-up routines funny, but I am not going to qualify my distaste by saying, "He was funnier when he was on drugs." This may very well be true in William's case, but I'm tired of the idea that drugs play an integral role in the creative process anyway.

I hated Popeye, even though his father's name--Poopdeck Pappy--still gives me a chuckle. All of his other zany comedies are similarly garbage--the weak Tootsie clone Mrs. Doubtfire stands as my least favorite movie ever, and I didn't even have to pay to see it.

None of this is to say that I think Robin Williams is a bad actor. He seems more suited for serious roles, strangely enough. He was great as Garp, and decent enough when he reprised the same persona again in Dead Poet's Society and again in Good Will Hunting, though I still resent Dead Poet's Society because of the mocking way the upperclassmen at Kenyon called me a dead poet. Williams seemed most appropriate as the creepy guy in One Hour Photo. He seemed well cast for that one.

I saw Mr. Williams on television this morning. I watched despite the fact that his hyperanimated performances (and they are performances and not interviews when Williams is in, on, or over the chair) usually make me have to leave the room. There was some of his usual spastic non-sequitur impressions, but he seemed more somber. And more sober, recently coming out of rehab and all. I realized right then why I can't say I hate the man even if his antics do drive me nuts. He, more than any comedian, embodies that sad-clown persona.

Forgive this sub-standard entry. I realize that this post is not as funny as Williams at his worst. I'm in a hurry, but I wanted to say something. I have three long blogs in the works, which may never be finished (one has over fifty footnotes), but don't lose sleep waiting--they aren't funny either.

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