It's Good To Be Wayne

Take the curious case of Wayne Brady.

I really liked him in "Who's Line...". Very talented improv performer, and not just at the songs, as some have claimed. And then he had his prime time show, which I watched with a look of... I don't know what it was. Fear? Confusion? Sadness? Loss? And suddenly I didn't like him quite as much. But hey, he was trying something new. Well, not new at all. But different, I guess. Right? He tried something different.

Now it's hard to know exactly when you stop liking someone if everyone else around you hates him. My girlfriend hates him because a lot of people she knows used to work with him, and they say he's a douchebag. But I didn't work with him so that means nothing to me. I should ignore that, right? Despite the nagging feeling, when watching him, that he is just that. A big honking douchebag. And then I go to underground comedy shows at FAKE in LA, or Tinkle in New York, and the comedians, comedians I respect, take endless jabs at Wayne. And do I let that infect my view? Maybe a little. But he's still talented. A big talent. And maybe all the signs of douchebaggery are false. Maybe he's a great guy. Maybe people are just jealous.

And if that's so, maybe Helen Hunt and Mike Meyers and John Cameron Mitchell and J. Lo aren't the right assholes they're famously known to be. (And conversely, maybe Alicia Silverstone and Henry Winkler and Heather Locklear aren't the nice, gracious people they're known for being.) And so perhaps the bad word on the Wayne is just the product of jealousy and heresay.

And then he says something like this, upon winning the Emmy last night:

"I deserve this, and it feels so good; I love this business, man!"


Douche.