Meltdown Committee

by Joey Sweeney

Take comfort, Dave Chappelle: You're in (mostly) good company.

Comedians, it's fair enough, are even worse than rock stars when it comes to being big ol' needy bags of damaged goods. Pound for pound, their tribulations seem proportionately larger, and, sad-clown myth intact, more pitiful. Consider it an occupational hazard: Even in the throes of deadly addictions and self-destructive behavior, rockers generally have company in the form of bandmates and various hangers-on, while to be a comedian is to be, by definition, a writer, and melting down in that line of work generally comes with a giant dose of alone, alone, alone. Even things like greater levels of fame or cash are no tonic for this; while your Pete Dohertys can still rock the image of being the wildest in a pack of wild dogs, every comedian's solo freak-out generally falls into the Class B, desperate-fool category.

You know where I'm going with this: Even though Dave Chappelle is one of the more righteous TV heroes of our time (as well as being as close as comedians ever get to being a bona fide rock star), the poor guy has now entered

The TV Party! Top 5 TV Comic Meltdowns of Ever!

It's a motley bunch, and to name five is to beg questions of 50 more. Nevertheless, here we go.

Andy Dick, May 1999. Being the real-world showbiz incarnation of Screech (and a pansexual Screech at that) is no picnic, and by the time Andy shot his psychic load, so to speak, in 1999, the world at large may very well have already been hella fed up with the dude. And whoever wasn't surely had to be wowed by his big night: On a hard bender, Dick, coked and stoned up like there was no tomorrow, wrapped his car around a telephone pole and then tried to get away. By today's standards, maybe that's not so awful, but this was really just the beginning of a long on-again, off-again unravelling that culminated last year with the poor guy reportedly flipping out on the Lower East Side after losing his "best friend" Rick James. While trying to score coke. On his knees. In the middle of the sidewalk.
Martin Lawrence, May 1996. Just what is it about the merry, merry month of May that makes funnymen go next-level batshit? Back in '96, Mart-innn was at the top of his game, if ripping off Flip Wilson's "Geraldine" and updating her for the Cross-Colors age is your definition of "game." Nevertheless, Martin the show had its moments, and in the middle of a busy Los Angeles intersection, Martin the man had his moment: Brandishing a gun, and screaming and ranting in the street, shouting obscenities and such other bon mots as "Fight the power!" Chuck D could not be reached for comment. Lawrence was later treated for seizures of a nebulous variety and dehydration. His career? In the pooper for all time thereafter. Sad.
Andy Kaufman, July 1982. By the time Kaufman appeared on Letterman one fateful night in 1982, he'd already burned every bridge a star possibly could and had moved on to — wow! — professional wrestling. On the show, he was pitted against tights-wearing rival bully Jerry Lawler, and things did not go well. Out of the gate with some bickering, Lawler smacked Kaufman. Kaufman replied by swearing, throwing a cup of hot coffee at Lawler and presently leaving the building. Letterman reportedly came in his pants almost instantaneously.
Dave Chappelle, May 2005. How do you drive a man off the edge? Well, giving him $50 million might be a start. After seldom showing up for third season tapings, swirling in rumors of drug abuse and just a general vibe of where-the-fuck-is-the-new-season-dude, news broke last week that Chappelle had landed in a South African hospital, which seems, at least on the surface, a pretty bad place for a wickedly funny black man to be. At press time, Chappelle had told Time magazine that he was indeed in South Africa, but just not in a mental hospital. Rather, he told the magazine, he was just "chilling out." A slightly imposing Islamic guru accompanied him through the interview, with Dave taking breaks every once in a while to clean his sneakers.
Bill Cosby, most of 2004 and continuing. For most of last year, there was a steady whine emanating from the Cos regarding how his fellow African-Americans had totally, utterly failed in parenting across the board and how black youth were pretty much destroying the English language and any claim they might one day have on it. Cosby's a smart dude, and at first, some of his notions sounded on point; then, it turned into a crusade for the guy. Any media outlet that would let him talk received the same boilerplate rant, which, as it went on, seemed less a call to arms and more like self-hating grouse. Then he was accused of sexual assault. Twelve times. Owie. Not a meltdown in the classic sense — no tears of rage or remorse quite yet — but the point is, Dave, step aside: Meltdowns come in all shapes and sizes, and something about the Cos tells us the old man still could teach us all a few things about losing your shit.

TV Party! returns to its regular TV/TIVO tips format next time out.