The Stupid Things Smart People Do For Their Friends

Saw Chris Rock at MSG two nights ago. He said he was still working his way through some new material, but it didn't show. He was as funny and polished and efficient as he has been on his last few HBO specials. Until.

He rushed through his last few jokes to get ready for his Big Special Guest. He counted down to midnight, Jay-Z music started playing, the jumbotron started running a video images of Jaz-Z hanging with gold bikini'd women, the curtain pulled back, and out walked hip-hop's answers to Horatio Sanz, Biz Markie.

All the energy (built up by a solid emcee work by Mario Joyner, a set by Jill Scott, and Chris freaking Rock) evaporated. Biz had the nerve to croak out something other than "Just a Friend" and then ask that the crowd, already going for its coats, jump up and sing with him. Rock tried to dance along, and just ended up looking every inch the fortysomething he is.

The Times cast the whole thing as a practical joke, but practical jokes are a pretty low-IQ level of comedy . Practical jokes think YouTube videos of a bullfighter being groin-gored are highbrow.

Honestly. Chris Rock is the guy who can name drop Timbaland and Warren Buffett. At that point, he could have gotten the black half of the crowd to cheer for the Moldy Peaches or the white half to cheer for [insert relevant hip hop group.] Instead, somehow someway, Biz freaking Markie used the connections he made over a decade ago to waste more of my time.

"Do you think anyone in Rwanda's got a ----ing lactose intolerance?"

Chris Rock was rebranding Africa when U2 was in its Village People stage. But Bono published his African diary from a few years ago (not online). And it's exactly what the issue should have been:

DAY ONE:
The flight kicked my ass. My wife, my two kids and I flew 20 hours from New York, which gives you an idea how long it took the slaves ships to get to America. The flight felt like the Middle Passage to me. When we landed I had lost my religion, my culture, my name. Africa is almost as far away as the Moon. They should have the space shuttle take you to Africa. I walked back to coach where my nanny was, and she was dead.
...
DAY TWO:
Left the comfort of Johannesburg and drove into Soweto. There's nothing like the poverty I saw in Soweto. Imagine the worst ghetto in America. Now set it on fire. Now try to put the fire out with shit--and it's still not as bad as how people live in parts of Soweto.
...
DAY FIVE:
Got on another plane. Went to the great Nelson Mandela's house. I felt a lot of pressure. It was around the time that Richard Pryor died, so I asked him, Did he get to see any Richard Pryor while he was in jail? He paused, looked me in the eye, and said. "Who's Richard Pryor?" I guess Mandela was in real prison.

Tell me that cover wouldn't have sold better. They try to tie Rock down in an interview online, but he insists on talking about Emily Dickinson. He's apparently not going to preach unless there's a decent punchline involved.