fuck yeah stephen colbert

Colbert Report Taping ReporT, 1/24/2012

- February 9 -

Let me start by saying that I have been a huge fan of the show since 2006. I was only 12 then, but I knew funny when I saw it, and have always been morbidly fascinated by politics. I have since watched the “Best of” DVD and many clips on colbertnation.com to catch up on what I missed from the show’s first days, as well as watching the old Even Stevphen and This Week in God segments.

Once I caught my first episode, after seeing the White House Press Correspondents’ Dinner and deciding it was fantastic, I was immediately hooked. The Colbert Report is everything I love—wit, sarcasm, satire, and political humor, delivered by the most gravitas-filled pundit of all time. Stephen could deliver a lethal blow to his guest’s ego with wit so sharp the guest didn’t even feel the rapier split their ribs. About halfway through the interview, many would just sort of notice the spilled dignity pooling in their laps and realize they had just been nailed. It was clearly the best thing on TV.

I also started watching The Daily Show. However, something about the maniacal gleam in Stephen’s eye and the hint of the endless glee in the corners of his mouth made him a joy to watch. The half hour a night, four days a week, of nonstop laughter really carried me through some miserable times. Sometimes, just knowing I had Colbert’s coverage of something stupid or enraging I heard that day to look forward to was enough.

I attended the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear in DC. Driving all the way from the New York Metropolitan Area with just three friends who couldn’t do any of the driving, braving the Beltway and the nonsensical city layout, and cramming into a tiny room only to wake up before the sun was unquestionably worth it. It was the happiest I had been in ages, as my friends commented on a candid picture they took of me there, being surrounded with so many people I instantly liked. The Colbert Nation is an intelligent, thoughtful, friendly group of people, and they were very pleasant company during the long hours spent awaiting something great—what, exactly, nobody knew, but that it would be great was never in question.

Since the Rally, I was even more desperate to see a taping. Every time I checked the tickets page, though, it sadly said that none were available. I signed up for email notifications, but never got any. Then I stumbled upon Colbert News Hub (literally, not a reference to stumbleupon.com) and @DailyTix last Sunday.

And a miracle occurred. Things have been going suspiciously well for me lately, for a few weeks now, and I was expecting that things would soon get worse, as they often have. But instead, @DailyTix tweeted that two tickets to The Colbert Report taping for January 24^th were available. Though my hands were shaking with hope and excitement, I managed to fill in my information. When I got the confirmation email, I clicked confirm without hesitation, despite not knowing if anyone would go with me, and knowing I’d have to drive long into the night to go between Penn State and Hell’s Kitchen. I knew without a doubt that it would be worth it, and that I would go alone if necessary.

I started making calls. My mom, disappointingly, said she couldn’t really change her schedule. My dad, shockingly, said he could move some patients around. And so it was settled. My last class Monday night ended at 8:30pm; after that I would drive straight home to New York and be in bed by around 2am. I’d get up early, get my first edition of “I Am America (And So Can You!)” just on the very slight chance I could get it signed, and zip into the city. Knowing they overbook, and considering the effort it took to get there, I was determined to get to the studio first.

And get there first I did. Way first. Wacky first. I was there before 2pm. I was alone for only about twenty minutes, though, before two women, about my parents’ ages, both named Mary and from a small town in Connecticut, joined me. We struck up a conversation (again, citizens of the Colbert Nation are a wonderful bunch, and I’m not particularly a people person). Soon, though, the man I presume is Stephen’s bodyguard came out to tell us that we really were quite early, and that he wanted us to go get a drink or something so we’d have energy for the show. He assured us we would get in, and get good seats. I told him that was good, because I had driven several hours and really wanted to cross “high-five Stephen Colbert” off my bucket list. The Marys invited me with them (of course I can’t drink yet, but it was nice company), and we spent a few minutes in the Barnes & Noble and then a bar on the corner of 9^th and 54^th.  Soon afterwards, my dad arrived, and we joined the line, which had, to my initial disappointment, grown to about 10 people already.

But I should not have feared. For some reason I yet can’t fathom, my streak of good fortune continued. While the interns were checking us in, the body guard-if anyone knows his name, PLEASE tell me, I want to properly thank him; he is fairly short, has a shaved head, and has a moderate Spanish accent-walked through the line again, and saw me. I had introduced the Marys to my dad, and the Marys had ended up on line right behind people they knew by coincidence, and there was friendly discussion all around, including the family in front of me, who hailed from Ames, Iowa. One of the Marys has a niece at Penn State, which relieved me—lately, for reasons everyone must know by now, it’s not necessarily a great idea to mention my school. It might invite some comments that are truly offensive, and in poor taste. But Penn State is large, and the world is small. I did not, however, intend to let the warm-up comedian know I go to PSU.  But I felt that the fellow it-getters in line were especially enlightened, being Colbert fans, and sure enough, they did not disappoint. If anything, they offered sympathy for the victims, light criticism of the administrative officials involved in the scandal, and encouragement for the students.

Then, passing through again, the bodyguard saw me, and seemed to confirm something to himself. He said something under his breath, like “Oh, you were the first one here…” and disappeared again. A few hours passed. My dad got pizza and garlic knots, which we shared with our new friends. Soon came the “you can’t bring any knives, firearms, mace, etc.” speech, and the interns started to distribute tickets. Feeling punch drunk, I took pictures of the spray-painted “No graffiti on this wall” with a stern-looking, red, white, and blue Stephen, pictures of the tickets, and a picture under the “Colbert Report” awning with my dad. It was already so amazing, it was well worth the trip. My dad and I had tickets 11 and 12. I knew we were not exactly seated in order from front to back, though, so I didn’t get my hopes up.

Once my bag was searched and I was through the metal detector, after being warned that Stephen does not have time to sign books during the Q&A, I soaked in the holding room. The “Best of” DVD I know and love was playing, the “fear bunker” from the rally was there…it was brilliant. I knew it was imperative that we use the restroom, so I did. But then the bodyguard made his way to my dad and I, made eye contact with me, then spoke quietly into my dad’s ear and pressed something into his hand. When he went away, my dad showed me a small, red and blue ticket. He started to explain what it meant, but I already knew—we had been given VIP tickets. I was brimming with gratitude.

A while passed pleasantly in that room, then the very happy, energetic, friendly interns told us what to expect and gave us the rules. One said that the audience is what makes the show so great it keeps getting nominated for Emmys-then “losing to The Daily Show every fuckin’ year! Goddamn it!” and told us to make sure that after Pete Dominick, the warm-up guy, introduced him, we cheered very loudly for Stephen as he ran in. It would not be difficult for me. He said to do it because “No matter how famous the guy gets, it still thrills him. Stephen eats that shit up.” They got us all excited about the out-of-character Q&A-“You DO know it’s a character, right? PLEASE tell me you know that”- and we were ready.

When they asked for anyone with red and blue cards to come forward first, it was a little awkward-we seemed to be the only ones. But it passed, and we were led to the front row, stage right, directly in front of his desk, but never obstructed by cameras. I was giddy with delight. The studio was fascinating. There was the stolen microwave, and atop it, what, as a Jew, I can identify as a Shofar, or ram’s horn. I wonder how it got there, and why. I looked around at all the familiar things, at the desk, at the Peabody, at the TV screen fireplace. What struck me was how small it was, and how close I was to the stage. The room was buzzing with energy. Pete came out, and as I had read online, began to make fun of the audience members goodheartedly. I had warned my dad that, being in a suit, he would be a target. He was rightfully mocked for being a jackass doctor in a suit who drives a BMW. And, Pete happens to be from Rockland County—where we’re from! So Pete said my dad has probably cut him off in his BMW on the Palisades Parkway. Probably true. Awkwardly, he asked if I was my dad’s wife (apparently my dad has ‘great skin,’ but I happen to know he got a laser peel—I should have told Pete), but then my dad made that seem like a trifle when he mentioned I came all the way from Penn State. I said “You just had to tell him that” before I could think not to. Pete laughed at that, and then, in good taste, said “Oh, great, Penn State. ‘Cuz nothing fuckin’ depressing is happening there.” I was relieved that he left it at that—funny and tasteful. Pete cracked a joke about Gingrich (especially his “neck issue” being too ugly to be president) and then made the faux pas of saying we were the best audience that week. We laughed and told him it was Tuesday. “That’s what I like about the Colbert audience!” he said. “You’re all smart and you don’t take any crap. I couldn’t just be like, so, I was riding my unicorn to work the other day….because you guys would be like, ‘NO.’ You weren’t. That didn’t happen.” He poked fun at my dad some more, made fun of some Midwesterners and pretended to speak Chinese to a Chinese girl, and rightfully made fun of a guy with crazy hair who was, predictably, an artist, and a guy with a “Made in NY” tattoo. It was quite funny.

And then it happened. They announced that the man himself was coming out soon, showed us the signal to begin applauding when the show comes back from commercials, and played the music. We all leapt to our feet, cheering and clapping. We were hoping for high-fives in the front row, but Colbert’s microphone pack fell out of his pants, thwarting that. Not to worry though-later events made up for this. He turned even that into a brilliant joke. A crewman came over and stood behind Stephen, reaching into the back of his pants and adjusting things.

“This is very…intimate, what’s happening right now,” he said, grinning at us. When the crewman was done Stephen took a few steps and apparently decided something still needed adjusting, and turned his back to us. He shook his butt to make us laugh while he fixed himself. “The microphone wasn’t the only thing that came untucked,” he said playfully. He spoke into a microphone, saying hi and explaining that this question session was our chance to “humanize me before I start saying terrible things.” I wasn’t sure which of the million questions in my head I would ask. A serious one? A funny one? A flirty  one (mildly—he’s married, after all, and my dad was with me)? I didn’t plan to ask one, though, because I was already so happy I felt I had gotten more than my fair share of joy for the night. I didn’t need to be able to ask a question. I would wait to see how many hands went up, and what the questions they asked were like.

My dad raised his hand, surprising me. I didn’t want to compete with my dad, so I waited. My dad asked what it was like before, during, and after the White House Press Correspondents’ Dinner—a question I had thought about asking. Stephen gave a wry laugh and said, “Oh, that was FUN, after…” I was instantly struck by how intently he focuses on the person to whom he is speaking. He moves toward you, locks eyes with you, and shows only signs of being utterly enthralled with what you are saying.  “The best thing, though—the dinner is held at the Washington Hilton hotel. It’s a nice room, though it isn’t as big as you think—the room basically exists FOR the president. But the best part was that they have a bathroom marked ‘POTUS Only’…and I used it!” I was not, and still am not, certain if that is true. However, it was hysterical. He looked so gleeful saying it, rocking forward onto his toes slightly in and leaning into us in a conspiratorial way. Then he took another question on the other side of the surprisingly small studio. Few people, oddly enough, were raising their hands, so I decided I would next. The next question was about some Lord of the Rings minutia—having not read the series, I could not follow the names, but the gist of the question was asking which of two groups was to blame for the demise of another group. Stephen answered lengthily, for the topic, and animatedly, saying something about having just found out that the group of people/things wasn’t dead, just trapped under a mountain for all eternity, which he found “fascinating.” Stephen thanked the asker for “helping me alienate about 90% of this audience,” turning and saying “sorry” to the other side of the studio.

A guy asked, on behalf of his group of classmates, whether Colbert would come to Hofstra, the location of the second presidential debate, to their studio which they describe as slightly smaller than his own, and do his show. “Can I host the debate?” Stephen laughed. “I’ll do my serious, classy debate there.” A man from Louisiana asked if Colbert had any interest in doing a Mardi Gras float. “It’s a lot of work, isn’t it?” he asked. “Are you on one of the float committees?” The asker said no. “Oh, so you can’t deliver on this promise, “ Stephen said, with a little hint of his character in his demeanor.

Someone asked what other career he might have. “Nothing—I have no other marketable skills!” he said. The next question was about the super PAC. “How much money, approximately, does the super PAC have?” the audience member wanted to know. “Uhhh,” Stephen said, looking up as if trying to remember. Then he suddenly snapped his gaze right back to the asker and deadpanned “About 1.5 go-fuck-yourself.” The joke slayed us all.  I knew if I overthought it I’d go blank anyway, and I was in kind of a haze of pleasure and surrealism, so I raised my hand, hoping that if he chose me a question would materialize.

He looked right at me and said, “Yes, ma’am!” jubilantly. For the smallest fraction of a microsecond, I thought I would come up with nothing. But a question I had thought of later the night before, while listening to the audiobook, swam into focus. “In your book,” I heard myself say, “you described a sort of courtship ritual called the “Colbert Shuffle.” I had some trouble picturing it, though…could you demonstrate?” There was some laughter, and he chuckled. “Oh, my book,” he said smiling like he was having a pleasant memory. “Ok, the Colbert Shuffle goes like this,” he began, locking his eyes right into mine and widening his stance. He moved the microphone into his left hand and started doing a step-touch from side to side and snapping his fingers. I was delirious, so I may not have 100% accuracy on the exact words here, though my memory is good and I worked to sear his every word into my head like my willpower was the Blood Quill from Harry Potter. “It works like a charm,” he said, smiling at me, “but the best move I’ve got is this.” He angled his body and head away from me a little, maintaining eye contact, and folded the cartilage of his right ear up. Then he winked, and his ear popped back out and his grin spread from the right ear all the way to his other ear. “And then, boom. I’m just reeling in the ladies.” As he said this, he mimed pulling something towards him.

I tried to get out a “thank you” through my laughter, and he nodded cheerfully at me and looked around for another question. He saw his crew letting him know that it was time to get started, though, so I was immensely happy and proud of myself for not chickening out of the opportunity to ask him a question.

I won’t describe the whole show, since you can watch it, and this is already crazy long, but I will describe what the audience at home did not get to witness. First, he really is interactive with the audience. He is playful and funny and upbeat throughout, just looking like he’s having the time of his life. Which he was, and because of that, so were we all. Since it was time to start, he bounded behind his desk and say, leaning forward so that the last touches of makeup and hairspray could give him Romney-like, lego-like un-mussable hair. While the hairstylist smoothed his hair, he reached forward and smoothed hers. It was very endearing. And despite the stage makeup, Stephen looked very handsome and clean cut, and though he has laugh lines—how could he not, he and all who watch him laugh so much—he actually looked younger and more handsome in person than on TV. He was wearing very, very shiny shoes and a beautiful shirt, and, interestingly, his tie appeared very deep purple with lavender stripes in person, and then on the TV it looked more blue. The set, too, is not quite as vibrant and brightly colored in real life, though it is quite nice.

The table of contents you all saw was take three. He messed up on the end of the first joke, getting hopelessly tongue-tied until he gave up, laughed, banged his head on his desk, and said “Shit! I’ll do it again. Third time’s the charm.” He got tongue tied a second time, laughed readily, and also expressed an apology to us and the crew—as if we didn’t love it. It was cute and funny. On the first take, his physical character was more evident. Watching him get into character was like watching a current of energy start flowing through him as he settled in his chair. The energy seemingly buzzed from his core to his extremities. A glint of mischief appeared in his eyes, and he assumed an enraged, empowered pose, starting turned to the back of the desk and leaning forward, making a big opening gesture with his arm as he said, “Tonight!” On the third take, he dialed it down, and started by just lifting his gaze from the desk to the camera. We cheered for each flub.

During the commercial break, while music blared, the writers clustered around him and there was much scribbling and nodding. But Stephen danced in his chair, nodding his head in time to the music, tapping his hands on his desk, and visibly mouthing the lyrics. I was enthralled, so at first I didn’t notice that the main cameraman, an older man (again, PLEASE tell me if you know who he is—I forgot his name as soon as it was said in the beginning because of excitement overload on my brain), who was right next to me in front of the aisle, was trying to say something to me. “Did I hear someone over here goes to Penn State?” I said yes, it was me. It was hard to hear, but I got that he was saying he had family at Penn State-either a grandson or a nephew, a freshman like myself. Wow, I thought. Small, small world. That’s two people who said the same to me. “How is it, over there?” he asked. Honestly, I answered, “It’s been tough. We’re obviously going through a difficult time. But the hearts of most Penn Staters are in the right place, and we’re getting there.” He asked if there would be a big funeral service, and I nodded yes. “On Thursday, in the Bryce Jordan Center. It will be a big memorial service. It’s vey sad, but we know Joe Paterno would just have wanted us all to get back to class and keep doing great things.” He nodded seriously at me. He was an it-getter, too. Then the production manager (again, NAME please if you know it) began the countdown until we were back. We roared and clapped, and only Stephen’s eyes betrayed the slightest hint of pleasure as got started.

We all felt like hugging Stephen when he got choked up worrying about his super PAC money, held hostage by Jon Stewart.

EDIT: Forgot to add, Stephen told us that before his interview on Morning Joe on Friday, his 82-year-old father-in-law told Mika Brzezinski that she has “the nicest legs in television.” Then he laughed, remembering it, and said “Thanks, DAD.”

When you watch the segment about the debate, and the audience cheers exceptionally loudly at the first joke (“Who cares?”), know that it is because that whole segment was retaken, because originally Stephen said it was the 24^th debate. “Folks,” he said, “We’ve actually been fact checked, and it turns out it wasn’t the 24^th debate, it was the 18^th. So we’re just going to do that part again, and do enjoy these jokes a second time,” he said, shuffling his script and slipping “Stephen” back on. And enjoy we did. Oh, and he said “Nobody has to know about this, unless any of you tweet or blog.” Whoops…sorry, Stephen.

Before the commercial break had quite ended, the cameraman was back near me, and turned towards me, arm outstretched. “Open your hand,” he said quietly, and then said something like “For the Penn Stater.” I opened my hand to find two Wriststrong bracelets. I didn’t try to catch one that Stephen slingshot into the audience, so I was thrilled. Thank you!” I tried to say, surprised, but his attention was needed on the camera as the countdown began again. “Look,” I said, surprised and happy, showing them to my dad and offering him one. It was amazing now truly nice EVERYONE had been thus far. I was being treated exceptionally well.

During the Maurice Sendak interview, which was really very funny, I couldn’t watch the screens for most of it. I was riveted, watching Stephen react to the interview. He laughed along with us at times, before we knew what would be funny at others…but the best was seeing him mouthing his questions along with his character, with smiles creeping through and stopping him at times. When the next commercial break arrived, Stephen motioned for the music to be turned down. “I just wanted to tell you—he is, Maurice Sendak is just the darkest, most bitter person…he’s great to be around—in very small doses. And I promise you, the rest of it, which you’ll see tomorrow, is just as terrible.”

Next, the bit with the old lady…it went pretty well, except just as she started speaking Stephen got tongue tied and cracked up again. He had to read into it a couple more times. No complaints—it made it that much funnier. We all gave the old lady a standing ovation, and Stephen, gentleman he is, stood up and gestured for us to do it again as she left.

Seeing Stephen prance to the table for the interview was very funny in person. I don’t know how it looks so big on TV, but it’s really not a big distance, and the furniture itself just looks so small. It was a good interview,; entertaining and educational.

I honestly had no idea how he ended the show, because we were all on our feet applauding so loudly we couldn’t hear it. But once it was done, he graciously offered to take one last question. I think he did, but I can’t remember. At that point, my hands were stinging from clapping so hard, and my throat was hurting from cheering, and I was totally happy. I sort of registered, at least subconsciously, that the bodyguard was gesturing towards my dad and I and talking to a curly-haired intern with a red paper shopping bag in hand. Before I understood what was happening, she came over to us and handed us the bag, saying that it was a “gift from the show.” We thanked her profusely. I didn’t look inside at that point, being too excited, but I could see two more bracelets and two shirts.

We filed out of the studio, and I asked another intern to tell the cameraman that the Penn Stater said thank you, as he was already gone. She seemed surprised, but said sure, she would. On the way out, I posed with a life-size picture of Colbert on the wall—the bod guard said I was the last one who could take a picture.  The Mary’s called out friendly goodbyes to me, saying it had been a pleasure, and I returned the praise.

I thought, at this point, that the night was over. My dad was asking if I wanted to eat, or just get on the long road back to Penn State. It would be at least a 5 hour drive, and then stops for gas and food would mean I would get back around 2am. We looked at a diner nearby, but it was closing, so I gave up and said we would head to the parking garage right next to the studio to get my car. I saw that one couple was waiting with cameras, hovering near the studio as if they were ambivalent about waiting. I told my dad I wanted to wait, but didn’t dare to get my hopes up. My dad said he would get my car for me and park it right on the street.

I asked the couple, who said they flew in from Detroit, but that the trip was shorter than mine, and they sad they guessed they’d stay, but they were told it could be a while. “I’m willing to wait a while,” I said. We chatted, and they asked some questions about Penn State. I got to dispel some myths about the student “riots” and inform them that over $500,000 has been raised to support RAINN, and that more than 5 times as many people went to the candlelit vigil than went to the riots. They didn’t know that. I wasn’t surprised. Media these days…

Some people I recognized as writers, crew, and interns came out while my dad was claiming my car. Then, I saw my friend the bodyguard again. He seemed to be signaling with a flashlight, and at that point I realized one of the guys in a baseball cap was Stephen. He looked to be in a rush. As he made for the car, he saw us, me with the book in hand. He started to say something like “I’m sorry, I have to go—“ but he suddenly stopped and said, “Sure, I can, I can sign that quickly.” I was overwhelmed by this, and could say nothing at first. I handed him my book, and searched for the marker I had.

“What’s your name?” he asked me kindly. “Remy,” I told him. “R-E-M-Y.” I watched, stunned, as he crossed out the dedication, “To America” and changed it to read “To Remy,” and helped steady the book. “Oh, a first edition!” he noted happily. “OF course,” I managed. I’ve got it the day it came out. Thank you so much—I’m sure you heard I drove here from Penn State. He looked at me and smiled and nodded, then said goodnight and waved as he got into the back of the car. At this point, I was in a daze of joy, but I pulled it together to wave and say a sincere thank you to the bodyguard as he got in his car. He smiled, really smiled, for the first time. “You really helped make my night,” I told him sincerely.

I felt a little bad that the Detroiters didn’t get their picture, but before I could tell them that, the man was showing me something on his camera. “I got some pictures of you getting the autograph,” he said. I couldn’t believe it. Everything about this experience had been perfect. “I would really love a copy of those,” I responded to his offer. Right at this point, my dad came over. I couldn’t believe he missed it. All I could do was hold up my book to show him. I could barely put my email in Steve W.’s phone; I was still shaking a little. I repeatedly thanked him profusely and said goodbye, and said to take his time emailing the photos.

My dad walked me to my car and I needed a few minutes to calm down before I could set out to drive over 275 miles. I got on the road just in time to hear the State of the Union address, and smiled to myself the whole way back. The bag had contained a shirt for each of us: long sleeved, dark blue, with the old Comedy Central logo on the right arm and “The Colbert Report” with the giant C in the front, and the greatest quote on the back: “It’s what Lincoln would have watched.” I saw it on a poster inside, and I don’t think I saw it in the online store. When I got back to school, at about 2am, I saw that Steve W. had already emailed me three pictures. One was clearly the best…me in partial profile, as Stephen was facing the camera and signing.  It is now my Profile Picture For Life For Now. I returned a sincere thank you to Steve W., telling him about my theory that the Colbert Nation is just a better breed. I immediately posted the pictures on Facebook, and watched as friends who know how big of a fan I am started clicking like and making comments ranging from “Jealous!” to “So happy for you!” to “AJFSIHOHDAIOJNFKL,” all well-meaning and happy for me.

I will never forget what an incredible experience it was. Everything was perfect.