mikegerber.com

In 1958, Paul Krassner founded a “magazine of freethought and satire” called The Realist. Around four decades—and lots of unlikely adventures—later, Krassner closed up shop. Though Krassner’s probably better known for his activities as a Yippie, The Realist is his true legacy and, I would argue, infinitely more substantial. The lovechild of Harvey Kurtzman and I.F. Stone, for my entire life issues have been exceedingly difficult to find, fetching high prices on eBay (especially when you consider that the original is easily yellowed, often crumbly newsprint). But now someone (“outre-culture archivist” Ethan Persoff) has decided to invest their lives in creating an online archive. Bravo to you, sir. If you’ve never seen any issues, it’s really worth a browse.

The Realist was born at the same cultural moment as The Second City, and like that exceedingly valuable institution, The Realist remains an excellent model for how to do comedy seriously and well, and yet remain fully in command of your adult faculties. Then the Sixties came along, and comedy became primarily about lampooning the media and busting taboos; these aren’t bad things, far from it—but as we’ve seen in the last couple of decades, the media considers lampooning just another form of publicity, and taboo-busting comedy can be dumbed-down and coopted with ease.

Not so with stuff like The Realist or Second City, comedy so firmly seated in the creator(s) lived experience that any bullshit showbiz simulacrum immediately feels like, well, bullshit. The Second City has carved out a nice little niche providing raw material for the corporate comedy machine, but is there any doubt that alumni like Colbert or Sedaris or Fey look back at those days as the good old ones, when their talents ranged freest and the most of themselves were expressed? The Realist never had a chance at aboveground success; the best it could do was inspire underground comix and The National Lampoon—hardly small accomplishments, but not ones that allowed Krassner to retire to Kauai. I’m sorry for him, but glad for the rest of us—just like that albino lizard that actually evaporates in direct sunlight, some things are best left underground.