Are you seriously going to try and just brush past the profoundly important (I'd say seminal) character work of Carl Sjunior and Brian Pieces?

I can't believe you'd come around here trying to push some broke-ass agenda like that. You just failed to mention the most tireless, courageous, absurd-yet-hauntingly-poignant long for.improv in the history of man. Look, I get it. The politics around something as forward-thinking and punk rock as "The Lumber Yard" are complicated. Let's be adults and just admit that it happened and shit won't be like it was.

Hell, I'm not ashamed to admit the truth. I disowned my son over that bit. He was 12 at rhe time, and he had a bit of a mouth on him. I was fine with that fo the most part until he tried to get cute. He slipped in an offhand comment about the Carl/Brian character work being 'lazy' in general. "Not in my house, ", I bellowed at peak volume, my yells pushing tears down his terror-stricken but still smug face. I rapidly tore a few shelter/ homeless resource listings from the White Pages, then I tossed that wrong, wrong child into the cold and the dark.

I knew when I heard that 'lazy' nonsense that it was true: my scandalous, disloyal tramp of an ex-wife had stepped out, and it was far more than even I had guessed. She got pushed full of dick, tagged by squads of awkward, Caucasian podcast-aspirsnts all over town. As is the wont of the classless whore and cheating wife, she fell pregnant. I'd been made to raise, love, and bond with some bastard. Worse, that contemptible bastard had some unforgivably bad taste in improv.

He must be fourteen years old by now, and I hope he is alright (in terms of growing his taste, I mean. It's not really my place to care otherwise. )

Anyway. I look back on those rich backstories, soaring emotions, and the delicate jazz-like interplay between modern masters... those charscters were not the least bit lazy.