So, the creators of the show are Eric Schaeffer and Jill Franklyn. They have Emmys. They won because they co-wrote the "Yada, yada, yada" episode of Seinfeld. And you know what? I watched that episode when it first ran with my girlfriend at the time, Sheryl. Sheryl would watch Sienfeld and, instead of enjoying it for the at-times witty writing and Kramer's wacky movements, she would give a running commentary about the comedic value of the show.
See, we were both doing stand-up at the time. My act was about me talking about how I broke the news about my small penis to new girlfriends. Now, it ain't exactly Pryor-level material, but I had no delusions about which rung of the "Performance As Art" ladder I fell upon. I liked it when I said stuff in a mike and drunk people laughed, so I made jokes about my dick. It was the shortest distance between stimulus and desired effect.
Sheryl was completely different. Emboldened by 4 stand-up classes at The Learning Annex, Sheryl fancied herself a student of the art of saying funny sh-t. Her jokes were funny enough, but her set-ups were torture; instead of being delivered, her long, rarely insightful paragraphs were wielded against the audience like a broadsword. Or, rather, how a monkey would wield a broadsword. See, she didn't write new material, she was the type who "crafted" her "dialogue". Uppity, self-important boor.
So, when the "Yada, yada, yada" episode aired, this blowhard waxed retarded through each commercial break, explaining the hidden depths of "yada": "It's a social commentary..." "They are examining the social intricacies of semi-verbal communication..." "It's not comedy, it's 'humorism'."
(YEs, this woman TALKED like that. You have to appreciate the fact that she's saying this to a comic who started his set with, "So, you know what they say about guys with small hands, right? Well, it's true." If she was a comedic artist, painting a delicate tapestry of humor, then I was a guy who threw up onto a canvas and said, "that looks like something funny, right?" My material probably wasn't comedy, but it sure as hell ain't humorism either.)
I actually had to stop watching comedies with her, and then dump her altogether. She's actually famous now. You wouldn't see her in a movie or anything, but she does have Jimmy Kimmel's home number in her cell phone.
And every time I see that damned episode, I am reminded of why I couldn't STAND being with her. She ruined it for me.
So, yeah. Failure to Fly: A group of people contemplate taking their own lives, yada, yada, yada. Starz. Check your local listings.