I’m madder than a knock-knock joke trapped in a Kill Tony podcast over the way woke, lefty comics are making a living off the blood, sweat, and polished rifles of the MAGA faithful. Why just the other night I was trapped in a room full of blue-haired Bernie bros in granola-land Vermont, forced to endure 15-solid minutes of Trump Derangement Syndrome from none other than comedian-podcaster Marc Maron—a man whose entire career now hinges on being the guy who yelled WTF at Obama in his garage, but now thinks Trump is the antichrist.
The crowd was eating it up like free-range, gluten-free, artisanal liberal tears. My relatives—who dragged (or drugged) me into attending the event at the Vermont Comedy Club—were howling like hyenas on nitrous oxide. Meanwhile, I’m sitting there stone-faced, thinking, “Who does this guy think he is? Some kind of woke prophet on his ‘All-In’ tour of coastal elite safe spaces?”
Marc Maron Headlines the Woke Olympics
During the start of the 2-hour routine in Burlington, Vermont, he kept calling us “progressives.” Excuse me, Marc, but no. I’m Toby P. Gelman, MAGA die-hard, latte-rejecting, real American (well, half-American, old mother Gelman is Canadian, which makes me half socialist). I wanted to stand up and yell, “I voted for Trump twice in the last election, pal! And, I think Elon’s pretty based when he’s not tweeting memes about pronouns!” But I didn’t. Unlike the left, I believe in civil discourse.
Marc’s initial bits included ‘Trumps fascist state’, ‘Elon the retard’, and something about kicking everybody who voted for Harris out of the country!
From TDS to PTSD … WTF!
Then, just when I thought I’d have to live-tweet to relieve my suffering, something weird happened. Maron stopped ranting about “orange man bad” and started talking about… his life. And dang, was it depressing, but funny!
Dude has rats in his basement. Not metaphorical rats (like the ones in the DNC), but actual rodents chewing through his cables and taking a dump on his floor. His dad’s got dementia. He’s had more pratfalls than a Three Stooges marathon. And suddenly, against my will, I started laughing. Not at him, despite his left-leaning lunacy, but with him.
Standing Ovation or Stockholm Syndrome?
Turns out, once you scrape off the TDS like bad Hillary for Prez bumper sticker residue, Maron’s just another boomer with a sad clown routine. And heck, I related to that. Dysfunctional family? Check. Aging parents? Check. Strong opinions that make Thanksgiving awkward? Big check.
By the end, I was clapping. Maybe even standing. Not for his politics—no sir—but because life’s hard, comedy’s harder, and at the end of the day, we’re all just rats scurrying around in the dark basement of this crazy country.
