In pursuit of sense and order in the universe, I need to clarify who Danny Bevins reminds me of - not which live person, because that would be inconsiderate; it might diminish Danny’s commercial value, rendering him replaceable or double-bookable and hence a little less laughable.
But which dead person.
Finding Danny’s ghostly double is potentially quite flattering (who wouldn't want to be compared to a corpse?); it is an opportunity for us all to bone up on history; and, in this time of popular fascination with vampires and Pandorans and other forms other-worldly, it brings to the pop culture table the polysyllabic yet highly marketable word “doppelganger”.
I would love to have this all sorted out before I next see Danny perform, so that I can witness his being just a pinch uncomfortable. He’s too humble, unpretentious and friendly with fellow comedians to otherwise experience this type of homage.
Perhaps you can help me.
Which of these dead comedians is haunting Danny Bevins?
Foghorn Leghorn (1946-1963)
Foghorn J. Leghorn is known for such phrases as, “I say, I say, what’s the big idea?” and for one-liners such as, “That dog’s as a subtle as a hand grenade in a bowl of oatmeal” and for violence: just picture a rooster the size of Brigitte Nielsen drowning a cat.
Danny Bevins doesn’t necessarily have catchphrases; he is prone to mix it up, but he does incorporate one-liners and violence: “Whoever invented cubicles should be raped and hanged.”
Foghorn Leghorn commented on his own jokes. He pointed them out in case his young chick-devouring audience (Henry Hawk) didn’t notice. “Hey, that’s a joke, Son, I say, I say. Don’t ya get it?”
Danny Bevins doesn’t need to draw arrows to his humor, but he does have to explain it to his young chick-devouring audiences (and occasionally to the young chicks).
Another similarity between Foghorn Leghorn and Danny Bevins is a lasting love for their wives:
Foghorn Leghorn: “That woman’s as cold as a nudist on an iceberg.”
Danny Bevins: “She is perfect in every way.”
OK. Perhaps, in that regard, they are different.
Jackie “Moms” Mabley was a black woman and a Vaudevillian. She was forced into marriage as a child and then ran away with a minstrel show.
Danny is not a black woman, per se, nor is he from the 30’s and I’m pretty sure that he chose his current wife.
But what Danny does have in common with Moms is both the desire to satirize the world and the huevos to engage in such satire while so many others around him head straight for the cheap laughs.
Moms said, “I got something to tell you” while Danny says, “I’ve been reading the news…”
Moms declared: “It’s an atomic age; you got to have an atomic mind…They been teaching the children a bunch of lies...and Mother Goose rhymes…”
Moms’ wordplay was no child’s play. It was like modern day spoken word with a driving beat and a certain wisdom. Because Moms’ shtick was so rhythmic, it inspired both comedians and rappers.
Such as Ice Cube.
Like Moms Mabley, Danny Bevins has inspired rappers:
Consider Tom Greene.
And Moms and Danny both enjoy hats.
George Carlin’s brand of artfully rendered, observational and even existentialist monologues were always rehearsed down to the very syllable. His style was a mix of refined, bitter and childlike.
He was quick with the jokes that took time to sink in: "You should always do whatever's next."
Danny’s recent hour-long show was entirely reminiscent. It was honed as finely. It was polished, impassioned, full of paradox and incredibly smart. I found myself saying to the patron next to me, “Oh, my God, he's just like George Carlin!”
Now, is it a compliment to a comedian to be just like another comedian? Well, all comics are influenced by a performer who came before. Richard Pryor by Moms Mabley, Moms Mabley by Ma Rainey and Foghorn Leghorn by Popeye.
It is also important to note how each comedian has distinguished himself from his or her influences. Just as a chef starts with a recipe and then adds a bit more of this or that, a comedian begins with a model and infuses his own inspired spin. Richard Pryor took Moms’ open talk of rape and morphed it into confessionals on his own freebasing. Foghorn took Popeye’s muscles and wove them into ironic feathers. Danny has taken George’s wit and has rendered it up-to-the-minute timely.
What does Danny Bevins offer that George Carlin didn’t? For one, a new age to absorb and comment on. For another, a slightly more hopeful perspective through which to see our current world. George was a bit of a cynic. Danny is a tad more optimistic.
OK. So, the difference in tone is subtle.
It seems, then, overall, and all things considered, that Danny Bevins is meant to convey the legacy that George Carlin left behind.
Doppelganger George is likely relying on Danny Bevins to continue where he left off – to look at the world through a kaleidoscope and not just a single pair of glasses and to write about that world as though it were a carefully crafted conspiracy - a sort of cosmic joke that needs someone just as wise as its creators to explicate its mysteries in a way that does not condescend to an audience that is actually, despite all arguments to the contrary by comics who do the opposite, eager to become more enlightened.
Too many comics take shortcuts with their joke-making. They dumb it down and rely on shock value rather than on keen observation. Danny is not one of those comics. He is a thinker, a writer and a diligently driven idealist (although he might say pragmatist) who writes and rehearses a routine that makes you laugh and think and want to change. At least until you rise out of your two-drink minimum stupor.
Great comics are not just a product of their own ingenuity; they are also a product of their time. Danny Bevins has what it takes, then, to be a great comedian. He is an inventive observer of this modern, fall-of-an-empire era, and I, for one, am grateful for his efforts and hopeful for his comedic future. Making us laugh is one thing. Writing wry monologues that engage us on several levels - getting us to laugh and wonder and motivate all while eating, drinking, texting, heckling and canoodling, is quite another.
One thing, though, and this is tricky. While Danny might be in a unique position to carry on George's style, he shouldn't try to do so. He should instead continue to bring his own personality and life experience to the stage. Perhaps this is one reason why Danny wrote a routine called "F- you, George Carlin." Maybe he's irked on some level that George Carlin has done this to him. Perhaps that routine, while meant as a form of reverence, was the product of a prophecy - Danny knew deep down that George Carlin would one day haunt him.
So, to sum up, “I say, I say, you better listen, Son”; “It’s an atomic age; you got to have an atomic mind”; “You should always do whatever's next”, and “F- you very much, George Carlin.”
For Danny Bevins’ show dates, visit his Facebook fan page:
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