Pryor to Richard, We Couldn’t Laugh Away Pain

We lost another comedy great today. Earlier in the year (back in March), it was Mitch Hedberg. Now, one of the true legends - a man I personally identify with and look up to more than any other comedian in the history of time, Richard Pryor, died of a heart attack. He was 65 years old. I’ll tell you now why I was so impressed w/Richard Pryor, and why his influence was so major in my life.

I mentioned in my most recent comedy performance, that comedians have troubles coping with life. We’re all insufferable pricks who make inappropriate jokes at really inappropriate moments, because comedy is how we cope. When we can step back from tragedy, and make a joke - we’ve effectively removed ourselves from the situation, and hopefully broken the tension. The king among kings of self-defacing wit, the absolute god of humor in the face of personal tragedy, blunders, and pain, was none other than Richard Pryor.

We’re talking about a man who overdosed on heroin and managed to light himself on fire and run down the street in the nude, yet went on to make one of the greatest comedy bits of all time about it - withholding no details and ridiculing himself in a way that most people would sooner shoot themselves before even attempting. He made comedy about his drug addictions, doing enough cocaine that he “snorted up Peru”, shooting bullets into his car in a drunken rage and waving the same gun at his wife. I even have a taped performance of him talking about suffering from Multiple Sclerosis while he was noticeably suffering the effects of MS, which included discussions on him pissing himself while trying to hit on a woman while driving around. Now if that ain’t hardcore, I don’t know what is.

I find it twisted and amusing that Pryor, who (in the words of Eddie Murphy, Pryor’s attempted clone) “was the rawest motherfucker there ever was”, spent most of his cinematic career making family-safe comedy films. Even while doing those, he would still continue to tour the country and spin his fucked-up web of comedy, despite trying to be a “family man”, which included making jokes about the very thing that finally did him in - a heart attack.

Those of you who’ve paid attention to the careers of both Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy will immediately see how like him Eddie tried to be. Bursting onto the scene with raw, edgy, uncensored comedy. Being a cast member on SNL. Ripping uncomfortable jokes at “the white man”. Doing family-friendly comedy films. It’s all there. I’ve said for years that Eddie Murphy has turned himself into a big ol’ pussy - swearing off the comedy stage because frankly, I don’t think he has it in him. Not like Pryor did. Eddie Murphy was busted for assaulting a transvestite prostitute that he paid for a blowjob from in the streets of Hollywood. The day he tells that story on the stage - that’s the day I give the man props. Richard Pryor would’ve not only told that story, he’d have told us how many times he went back to do it again. Even in his earlier work, he made an upscale white audience very uncomfortable when discussing having sucked a few cocks in his day. The jokes may not have been very poignant, but the reaction from the crowd is a sort of uncomfort you can’t buy.

Will there ever be another Richard Pryor? Not fuckin’ likely. There will, of course, continue to be comics who push the envelope like he did. There will, hopefully, be comics who can ignore their own bullshit egos long enough to insult the living shit out of themselves - one can hope. But Pryor was one of a kind. An inspiration. A legend. Fuck Spike Lee and his “original kings”. You can’t refer to kings of comedy without Richard Pryor.

One thing I can say about our society that makes me very happy - they made a tribute to Richard Pryor years ago, long before the man had passed on. So, while we’ll no doubt see and hear a million more like it coming up in the following weeks - I’m glad that Comedy Central had the decency to cover it ahead of time.

Rest well, Pryor. I hope you didn’t fuck around too much, and wind up in the wrong motherfuckin’ heaven. Listening to Laurence Welk for the rest o’ your days.

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