Ok, this is not funny in a conventional sense, more like the 2:30 First Act of The Abduction of Figaro, only less. Basically it’s 5 hours of D’Arcy Carden in character as Janet from The Good Place standing around in an empty white space reminiscent of the Nowhere Land found in the Vacuum Monster’s stomach (or nose, ick) in Yellow Submarine.
Now I could expound at length and in detail about the ‘bold artistic vision’ expressed by this particular piece of performance art and indeed whether ‘performance art’ is really art at all (Banksy, where are you when I need you? You should take Marshall McLuhan lessons).
Oh believe me, there’s a lot more where that came from like the symbolism of Janet’s Blue and whether that relates to the Blue Meanie invasion of the non-fictional world foreshadowed at the end of Yellow Submarine (the parallels are blindingly obvious folks).
Love, love, love.
Did you know I used to ghost write college papers? The best one was an exploration of whether a study of Shark cells, which unlike most reproduce indefinitely in a laboratory culture, would be valuable in understanding Cancer and Longevity. Some call that cheating but I didn’t cheat at all. My work was original, what other people did with it, like turning it in as their own, is not my responsibility.
Or is it?
More in keeping with the theme of the show (which is Moral Philosophy) I could talk at equal length about the futility of existence and whether consequences and accountability are a necessary predicate for ethical action (many Atheists would hold that ethical action has sufficient practical benefits in the long run and that appeals to external standards are arbitrary, detrimental, and unnecessary) in the face of ultimate impermanence.
You think it’ll last forever: people and cars and concrete. But it won’t. One day it’s all gone. Even the sky.
My planet’s gone. It’s dead. It burned, like the Earth. It’s just rocks and dust. Before its time.
There was a war, and we lost.
A war with who? What about your people?
I’m a Time Lord. I’m the last of the Time Lords. They’re all gone. I’m the only survivor. I’m left traveling on my own, ‘cos there’s no one else.
You’ve seen how dangerous it is — do you want to go home?
I don’t know… I want… Oh, can you smell chips?
I want chips.
Right then, before you get me back in that box, chips it is. And you can pay.
What sort of date are you? Come on, then, tight wad, chips are on me… we’ve only got five billion years ’til the shops close!
I’ve also written monographs on the Varieties of Pipe, Cigar, and Cigarette Ash and Apiculture.
I hope I haven’t made you want to gouge out your eyes like Oedipus and cut off your ears like Van Gough. If the sheer experience is not enough the comments (found here) are quite amusing.