What is the deal with old comedians deciding no one's doing comedy? | MARK HUGHES COBB

Jerry Seinfeld: Still yakking about nothing.

Unlike some pals, who took aim at the aging ― based on his wheeze that TV comedy is dead due to political correctness ― comic, to unload on how they never thought he was funny, I disagree. He is, sometimes. Like any successful comic: sometimes.

The show "Seinfeld" warped and woofed all over the loom, early episodes spinning from a show-in-show version of Seinfeld the stand-up jokester, whose offstage interactions with George, Elaine and Kramer suggested from whence the star crafted material.

It leaned heavily on performances from Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Jason Alexander, Jerry Stiller, Patrick Warburton, Wayne Knight (Newman!) and an exceptional rotation of guest stars ― some less starry to begin, but unforgettable afterwards ― and of course the crisp leadership of Tuscaloosa's own Tom Cherones, who crafted 81 of the first 86 episodes, as director and supervising producer.

But since faux-doc sitcoms such "The Office," "Parks and Recreation," "Modern Family" and the like elbowed aside shtick-and-a-haircut/two-bits style, laugh tracks ring out as archaic. Impossible to deny we chortle more in a crowd ― Laughter's bonding, communication, as much as involuntary response to surprise or delight ― but just land the funny. Let reactors react.

For the '90s nostalgic, many'd rather comfort-watch "Friends." Despite the sometimes-strained whimsy, those pals seemed to enjoy each other's company. On "Seinfeld," the misanthropy canopy makes the quartet seem less like pals, more like inmates forced to endure each others' presence, which, well done, does stick the finale.

One Seinfeld gag I've borrowed is the one where he asks if women want to know what men are really thinking: "Nothing. We're just walking around, looking at stuff."

Got to admit when I'm not pondering existence, cooking up song medleys, designing the world's most awesome yet physically improbable Goofy Golf courses, or querying myself in Terry Gross' voice ― "What the heck were you thinking?" is a frequent flyer ― I do sometimes walk around, looking at stuff. Me, a white, cisgender hetero male, I'm not offended, possibly because I'm the most privileged animal alive, save the rich. An easy punch to take.

Jon Stewart says he's lost just two words ― though I'm curious to know which, we probably couldn't print 'em; thanks, Woke Mob! ― in 35 years. There are a few to choose from, it turns out.

Years ago, I had a sister-outlaw we nicknamed Idjit M ... a word I later learned is offensive, when referring to small-statured folks. The term derives from midge, a tiny biting insect. Suss out for yourself why that could sting.

Some of the whiniest forget one massive divider between comedy and cruelty: the target. You don't punchline someone whose life is harder. That's punching down, which sits a little too close to the dwarfism paragraph for comfort, but you get what I'm saying. Punch up, and chances are no one's going to "cancel" you.

Canceling doesn't exist, anyway. Show me someone who's been wiped out, not just inconvenienced, and I'll revise.

Anthony Jeselnik has a standup act a bit like if Stephen Wright fathered a kid with Sarah Silverman. The guy can land a non sequitur like few others, but tends to punch sideways, aiming for dark shock. About the only of his gags I can repeat was an apparently spontaneous jibe, in which an interviewer claims to imitate the comic's deliberate delivery. Jeselnik responds he'd have to up his wardrobe game: "You dress like the CEO of a pumpkin patch." Sweet, offhanded mix of punching up ― the greedy and self-important, collecting seven or eight yachts before tossing employees a bone ― and benign, melded to a patch of pumpkins, the roly-poly puppy of flora.

Though a mere slip of a youth, at 45, he also has complained about "joke police." I suppose some could mistake persona for personality, as Jeselnik doesn't go all Andrew "Dice" Clay, Pee-Wee Herman, or Andy Kaufman, and wear a character disguise.

Remember the late great Bill Hicks, who once scorched the earth? In 1993, David Letterman cut Hicks entirely from one broadcast, due to what was seen as objectionable material. Hicks died later that year, of cancer, just 32. In 2009, the funniest Hoosier/Ball State grad you know aired an entire show dedicated to Hicks. Letterman brought on his mother, Mary Hicks, apologized, and finally aired that lost set.

No one's ears caught fire, far as I can tell. Had 26 years wafted zephyrs of the zeitgeist? “Seeing it now, it raises the question, what was the matter with me, what was I thinking?" Letterman said to Mother Mary. "It says more about me as a guy than it says about Bill.”

One problem may be, for the Seinfelds, and even Jeselniks, that once you start getting paid millions to say stuff on Netflix, there may not be enough high-up targets.

Or maybe "Bee Movie" and "Unfrosted" just sucked.

Trying to funnel shock into public shame is as absurd as trying to legislate your beliefs.

But the dreaded Wokemonster hasn't quelled "The Big Door Prize," "Abbott Elementary," "Shrinking," "Palm Royale," "The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin," "Schmigadoon," "The After-Party," "Mythic Quest" .... It's a shame Seinfeld missed Hulu's "Reboot," a razor-sharp witcom, specifically about lines between sitcoms old and new.

At his friend and co-Monty Pythonite Graham Chapman's funeral, John Cleese said: "Good riddance to him, the freeloading bastard. I hope he fries ....

"It is magnificent, isn't it? You see, the thing about shock ... is not that it upsets some people, I think; I think that it gives others a momentary joy of liberation, as we realized in that instant that the social rules that constrict our lives are not so terribly important."

If a shock wave lands in the forest and no one laughs, is it comedy? It works, or it doesn't, for you. All the yous.

Laughs are ephemeral, time-dependent, mood-controlled, individualized. As with any warty toad, dissecting kills, and not in the good way.

Mark Hughes Cobb is the editor of Tusk. Reach him at [email protected].

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: If a joke flops in the forest, is it still comedy? | MARK HUGHES COBB