Stephen Krewson | A dose of truthiness

Around 9 p.m. on Saturday, I left the raging Carnival and impossibly long lines on College Green to make a quick pit stop at the 34th Street food court.

Literally 30 seconds after I had joined my friends in line, someone informed us that Stephen Colbert and his wife were checking out at CVS. To make a short story shorter, he shook my hand and I obtained a permanent background for my phone. I'm quite proud of my introduction: "Hello, Mr. Colbert, my name is Stephen, too. Can I take your picture?"

Stephen is in town until Thursday to tape his hit Comedy Central show The Colbert Report at Annenberg's Zellerbach Theater.

I visited the set yesterday afternoon for a rehearsal and Q&A; session sponsored by the Penn Democrats - it was quite the experience. The tricolor lights illuminated a restrained, neoclassical backdrop whose Corinthian columns framed a mural of Ben Franklin opposite Bill Cosby.

Throughout, Colbert was his usual animated self, though sporting jeans instead of the customary suit. Standing in front of his dazzling icons, Colbert displayed his improvisational technique. When one girl asked whether Pope Benedict's impending visit would re-galvanize American Catholicism, Colbert (himself a Catholic) took issue: "I'm not just galvanized, I'm vulcanized - at least I would be but the pope won't let me wear rubbers."

Colbert's off-the-cuff riposte savaged candidates as well as orthodoxies. In response to a question about who the candidate of change is in this election, Colbert deadpanned: "For me, the real candidate of change is Mike Gravel. He's still looking for enough change for a bus ticket back to Alaska."

The audience roared; if one measly rehearsal is any indication, Penn students are wild for Colbert.

But is there something more to the Colbert phenomenon than just his wit and a magnetism that borders on a cult of personality? According to Russell Peterson, who teaches American Studies at the University of Iowa, the answer is yes.

Petersons' recently-released book, Strange Bedfellows: How Late-Night Comedy Turns Democracy into a Joke, analyzes the current state of political comedy and champions what Peterson calls the "genuine" (as opposed to "pseudo") satire of The Colbert Report.

The book's thesis is straightforward: In the hands of network personalities - think Letterman, Leno and Conan - comedic critique of politics has atrophied into a series of weak jokes which poke fun at human foibles but fail to engage with actual policy.

Also troubling for Peterson is the way in which late-night avoids accusations of partisanship by being an "Equal Opportunity Offender" and roasting both sides of the aisle. "Despite their efforts to play it safe by offending equally (and superficially)," he writes, "the mainstream late-night comics actually present an extremely bleak and cynical view of American democracy. What, then, is the secret of their appeal?"

"Perhaps because this confirms what we have always suspected: Democracy is a nice idea but not ultimately a practical one."

In stark contrast to this apathy-breeding irony is Colbert's vigorous, selective satire which "speaks the truth to power" without qualm: "His victims are specific politicians and specific policies . his comedy is not an aren't-people-funny tableau, nor a hear-my-truth moralistic screed - but something rarer and more valuable. The Colbert Report, at its best, is a meticulous rhetorical critique."

Will Colbert bring such a critique while next door to us on campus? He should, and I'm confident that he will.

George W. Bush, the comedian's broad side of a barn, is on his way out. Barack, Hillary and John will be increasingly subject to Colbert's withering gaze. This is no time for relying on trivial jibes about appearance or slips of the tongue (Colbert facetiously proposed that the single most important issue this election was Obama's supposed condescension toward rural Pennsylvanians). Rather, it is the time for serious satirical argument. The kind that is unafraid to tear down a candidate's principles - or lack thereof - until the best option remains, standing above the rubble.

As Colbert himself announced on stage: "I'm a king-maker and I've come here to exercise my power."

Stephen Krewson is a College sophomore from Schenectady, N.Y. His e-mail is krewson@dailypennsylvanian.com. Every Other Time appears alternating Tuesdays.

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