“The Anecdote”

“That’s hot.” ⁠— Paris Hilton

I laugh about how my priority during the middle of a pandemic is trying to finish my thesis on time. I’ve never felt more insensitive in my life, but coping through comedy is therapeutic for me. I’m living in a time where “economic relief” is the hot topic, but I’m safely behind my computer asking, what about comedic relief?  I think this incredulity is why anecdotes, but more so, comedic anecdotes are important to our understanding the nature of the world around us. Luckily for this writer, my game plan from the beginning was to write about Sacha Baron Cohen’s comedic, satirical television show Who is America?. Actually, literally just now as I write this, I decided I should throw on an episode for motivation, and I completely forgot that a clip of Paris Hilton appears in the opening credits. Most people think my absolute guilty pleasure is anything Taylor Swift, but really I LOVE Paris Hilton, and I’m super embarrassed by that. 

Let’s think about the question “Who is America?” We could answer it with either “Paris Hilton” or “Donald Trump.”  Look, to the average progressive millennial they may appear one in the same, but I follow Paris Hilton on Instagram, and I think her generosity for others and love for chihuahuas sets her apart from Trump. While Baron Cohen may not have created these credits, it is clear that the credits are meant to stand for  a “typical” answer to the question: Who is America? Yes, Paris Hilton is the epitome of American Capitalism, but I watched The Simple Life (2003-2007), and I think it’s really funny that she is included in the opening of Who is America?. The obtrusive comparison between Hilton and Trump is inevitable because of their consistent elitist performances; however, Hilton should really stand for the metaphor of what happens when we try to bridge divides without first researching what we’re getting into. During the duration of The Simple Life, Hilton at least made attempts to identify and find common ground with people from different social worlds⁠—something I’ve never witnessed Donald Trump attempt. 

Anecdotes allow us to humanize situations, which we may witness through both The Simple Life and Who is America?. These shows offer examples of comedic anecdotes that reveal depths we may not have known existed within other people. For example, The Simple Life created anecdotes that allowed us to identify with Paris Hilton, someone who might seem ethereal because of her life-style. On the show, Hilton is seen enjoying herself hanging out at a small town’s local gas station, milking a cow, and making a pie for a county fair⁠—activities I experienced myself growing up. Usually, when we find ourselves relating to the anecdotes of others, we have made a connection from their story to a story of our own.

Anecdotes are complex in definition because of the infinite possibilities in experiencing and sharing them. Anecdotes may be best understood when placed in conjunction with theorist Kenneth Burke’s definition of rhetoric. Throughout his many works, Burke implies that rhetoric is the ability of symbol systems to move bodies to action.  Therefore, I see anecdotes as a conveyor for symbol systems that then subsequently move bodies to action in some way. For example, I recently published a piece about what it was like growing up with two moms. One of my friends then reached out to me because she felt that as a Muslim in America she faced an incredible amount of persecution, but she had never thought about how this experience my be identifiable with what it is like being lesbian in America. I told an anecdote, and my friend reacted. These reactions do not have to be epiphanic, a multitude of reactions may consequently result from a rhetorical anecdote. As all anecdotes create some reaction, I will continue to refer to them as simply “anecdotes” as opposed to “rhetorical anecdotes.” 

Anecdotes operate in a number of ways. As we identify the unique properties behind individual anecdotes, we may see how these qualities determine an anecdote’s rhetorical outcomes.  In his work, “Anecdote and History,” Lionel Gossman remarks on some of these properties.  He states: “The word ‘anecdote’ itself was and is used to describe a wide range of narratives, the defining feature of which appears to be less their brevity (though most are quite short) than their lack of complexity.” Gossman points to a universal understanding in sharing anecdotes. People share moments of their lives with us almost everyday, whether it’s at work, on the internet, or on television. I can’t think of a day where I haven’t experienced an anecdote. I don’t tell my partner, “Hey, just read this great anecdote today,” but there’s an innate understanding that packages of other people’s information are often delivered through anecdotes. Gossman goes on to refer to the OED’s definition of anecdote, and how it may minimize the term: 

As the OED puts it, an anecdote is the “narrative of a detached incident, or of a single event, told as being in itself interesting and striking.” That general dictionary definition, which obviously aims to distinguish the anecdote from more complex narrative forms like history and the novel, still accommodates a wide variety of verbal practices, both oral and written, both popular and cultivated: the joke or the tall story; the jewel-like short narrative, with its witty punch line, that was developed in the salons of the elite in the eighteenth century; the short tale, usually containing a moral lesson...Moreover, the anecdote may be fairly detached and free-standing, as in anecdote books or collections. Or it may be integrally connected with and embedded in a larger argument or narrative, as in sermons and most historical writings.

Gossman’s assessment informs my understanding of anecdotes because he emphasizes that anecdotes are multifaceted pieces that drive our understanding of larger narrative frameworks. The OED definition Gossman points to appears to divide anecdotes from these structures, but these literary forms usually still rely on anecdotes to prove their purpose. For example, news segments are often more compelling when told in conjunction with an interview of someone’s personal experience. 

While differentiated from larger narrative structures, anecdotes maintain properties that we may observe and analyze in order to understand the larger consequences of who performs them⁠—similar to the broader frameworks they are often tied into. Gossman states:  “As to its form, what most people would consider the classic anecdote is a highly concentrated miniature narrative with a strikingly dramatic three-act structure consisting of situation or exposition, encounter or crisis, and resolution.” From Gossman’s formula, we may notice the diverse potential anecdotes allow for performers because anecdotes are not limited to one specific genre, which allows them to fluidly appear in an infinite number of circumstances. This broad potential is indicative of how we categorize and understand anecdotes as well as how we understand the people who convey them—perform them. 

An anecdote’s tonal properties will inevitably affect its perception. Technology allows for anecdotes to be conveyed quickly and accessibly. Television provides a space for anecdotes to be portrayed clearly and concisely. (We might debate that television also adds dramatic complexity to anecdotes due to their productive nature, but for my purposes television allows for anecdotes to be portrayed within a specific time frame that allows them to be neatly wrapped and described.) While I originally watched Who is America? as it premiered on Showtime, in creating this project, I found it more feasible to rewatch clips on YouTube, another media for accessing anecdotes. I suggest exploring the scenes through YouTube clips, focused on one scene at a time, still aligns with Gossman’s three-act anecdotal formula.

The properties of an anecdote are also often analyzed by the agents involved. Sacha Baron Cohen’s utilization of different characters throughout Who is America? points to how innately ingrained in us this idea already is. We can readily deduce that one of his guests may have acted differently if confronted by a different character. For example, Dick Cheney, as a guest, would likely not have been as friendly with liberal extremist  Dr. Nira Cain-N’Degeocello because of their polarized perceptions. To approach his guests’ different identities, Sacha Baron Cohen utilizes unique strategies, such as disguising himself as a billionaire when interacting with his wealthy guests as well as characters whose ideologies exist in an politically extreme opposition when meeting with certain politicians. Along with planning his disguises, Baron Cohen’s attention to dialogue plays a significant role in how the traps on his show consequently create humor. He has to be rhetorically aware and prepared for the unique ideologies his guests are going to bring to a scene. Each guest offers a unique perspective on politics and pop culture, and Baron Cohen parses his guests’ notoriety by placing them in precarious situations. These situations culminated into impressionable moments that allowed Who is America? to make its own mark on American pop culture. 

If we consider anecdotes a part of a larger narrative structure, then we need to pinpoint what we mean when we use the term “anecdote.” Along with Gossman’s assessment that describes anecdotes as a three act structure with a beginning (situation), middle (encounter), and end (resolution), I suggest we apply a socio-connotation to the term. Anecdotes serve as reflections of moments—happenings—that allow room for individual interpretations. Often, our interpretations can be easily summarized. We may observe how these interpretive summaries encourage us to recall the anecdote to memory. These recollections are reflective of the broader social implications of anecdotes because they keep moments of pop culture from slipping away—disappearing (as much as Kanye West may want them to vanish). Anecdotal summaries are usually how we point to influential moments in pop culture.  Every anecdotal setup within Who is America? can be infamously summarized: “Sacha Baron Cohen convinces Dick Cheney to sign a waterboard,” “Sacha Baron Cohen reveals Jason Spencer’s xenophobia,” “Sacha Baron Cohen tries to convince a small town in Arizona they need the largest mosque.” Anecdotes have a notable peak in drama that allows them to cultivate American pop culture: “Joan Crawford accepts the Oscar to Bette Davis’ dismay,” “The glove didn’t fit O.J. Simpson,” “Kanye West interrupted Taylor Swift to let us know Beyonce should have won.” We live our daily lives around these notable moments, and we rarely consider their impact on our own anecdotes, our own biases. We put so much stock into anecdotes, audiences literally demand them from celebrities on Late Night Television. We turn to Jimmy Fallon, Conan O’Brien, and Jimmy Kimmel to pull anecdotes from celebrities, so that we can be reminded that they are as human as we are, so that we might identify with them. Who is America? seeks to uncover the anecdotes famous people may not be as willing to share on talk-shows.

The way we react to certain anecdotes reveals elements of our personality because through our reactions we simultaneously reveal our perceptions. These perceptions are framed around what Kenneth Burke calls terministic screens. Each individual has unique terministic screens because we all experience the world in our own ways. Terministic screens comprise the elements of our lives that have influenced how we see our worlds  and our current perceptions. When we seek to share our perceptions with others, we often use anecdotes. The reason I raise the notion of terministic screens is to demonstrate their influence on anecdotal interpretations. The anecdotes of a rhetorician who uses words like “terministic screens” are likely going to be quite different than the anecdotes of a small child. However, just because we have different terministic screens doesn’t mean I can’t identify with my 8-year-old neighbor’s anecdotes about his cat. While our individual terministic screens differentiate us as people, anecdotes unite us through relatable moments. Our interpretations of an anecdote within Who is America? are derived from the terministic screens through which a guest approaches their scenario with Baron Cohen. Baron Cohen’s guests presidential candidate Bernie Sanders and reality star Corinne Olympios are going to see the world through distinctly different terministic screens because of a number of factors such as gender, age, and their places within society. The audience who witnesses their setups will also have separate influences leading to their individual interpretation of a setup. No one person shares the exact same terministic screens as another due to the variables that impact our reflections and deflections of reality. However, acknowledging the existence of varied terministic screens may allow us an angle for approaching how an guest’s agency is impacted when thrown into a particular setup. 

I would suggest that as we find ourselves identifying with the unabridged anecdotes Baron Cohen creates with his setups, we are working through the process Kenneth Burke refers to as identification. In his work, A Rhetoric of Motives (1969), Burke defines identification as:  "A is not identical with his colleague, B. But insofar as their interests are joined, A is identified with B. Or he may identify himself with B even when their interests are not joined, if he assumes that they are, or is persuaded to believe so." We may persuade someone to believe our interests are joined by using anecdotes. In a recent article, Débora Antunes elaborates on Burke’s concept of identification that allows us to clearly picture how anecdotes fit into the identification process. She says that identification “is not about similarity, but joint interests.” Antunes’ clarification is important because it informs how we approach someone with our anecdotes. For instance, my 8-year-old neighbor and I have few similarities, but we are both interested in cats. If he tells me he lost his cat when it ran up a tree, I’m compelled to help him find his cat not because both own cats, but because we are both interested in the cat’s safety. This is a trivial example, but we can think about this idea in more critical ways.

We may find ourselves identifying with Baron Cohen on Who is America? because we are also interested in the depths involved to reveal someone’s vulnerabilities—parts of their subconscious they never thought could be cracked. An elected official may not want to become more like their constituents, but they may be interested in their votes so they share relatable anecdotes to make it appear as if similarities exist. Antunes also remarks on an important element of the identification process, she states:

...the identity of A or B is not excluded when they come together because of shared interests, being them at the same time consubstantial and independent individuals. Gary Woodward summarises the concept by saying that identification "creates spikes of decisive recognition that can bind us to specific sources, while affirming the boundaries of our own recognised world."

As we attempt to share our interests through anecdotes, Antunes remarks that we have to be conscientious of the impenetrable nature of individuality. Antunes’ supports Burke’s concept with Woodward’s summary, but I would argue that we should consider that these “spikes” and affirmations of “boundaries” are also almost always conveyed to us through anecdotes.  We may notice these instances when we identify with someone else’s story, but we still distinctly distinguish it from our own.

We may find ourselves lacking connections to particular anecdotes. For example, I can’t imagine myself being convinced to happily sign someone’s waterboard like Cheney was persuaded to.  Antunes elaborates on the issues of divisiveness within the identification process: 

Burke also explains that as the natural division of human beings is the origin of the necessity of identification, both division and identification are constantly subordinate to each other. It is interesting to notice that even the associations formed through identification imply division since people organise themselves in groups that are usually distinguished from other groups, creating an antagonism between "them" and "us". 

We may think about these divisions when we think about how American political representatives often represent people who are radically different. We often create groups when we find similarities in others, but we still only identify with them insofar as our interests are shared. Antunes continues by suggesting that identification creates divisions while inevitably perpetuating them, she says: “In other words, identification results simultaneously in sociality and rivalry, since people tend to tie themselves to the perspective created by a group, at the same time that they ignore or reject other angles.” Anecdotes impose on these natural divisions Antunes and Burke point to because anecdotes offer endless perspectives of the individual worlds occurring around us. We have to decide if we share in these perspectives or if we reject them.

When we find that we share a sense of our own substance with another we often find a connection of closeness—a connection of humanity.  As long as we are willing to accept anecdotes from others, then we are allowing ourselves to be privy to unique perspectives. We may not always agree with these perspectives, but when we are aware of them we are able to point to them when we see people make choices we may not have made. For example, I write about The Bachelor contestant Corinne Olympios in “Performing Reality.” We are around the same age, and when I saw her on The Bachelor  I identified with her desire to enjoy herself on the show. However, within her segment on Who is America?, I initially had trouble understanding why she went along with the ploy. Now that I have read her analytical anecdote of what happened, I find myself with a greater sense of understanding. Through finding understanding in her anecdotes, I take part in what Burke refers to as consubstantiation which is a derivative of the identification process. In A Rhetoric of Motives (1969), Burke explains consubstantiation as: “In being identified with B, A is ‘substantially one’ with a person other than himself. Yet at the same time he remains unique, an individual locus of motives. Thus he is both joined and separate, at once a distinct substance and consubstantial with another.” As humans, we often have a natural sense of yearning to identify with others while maintaining our sense of individuality. Burke suggests, "In acting together, men have common sensations, concepts, images, ideas, attitudes, that make them consubstantial." Who is America? interrogates these commonalities by showing how people in positions of power and celebrity actually feel about identifying with others by exposing the guests’ ignorance. 

Insofar as Who is America? asks its namesake question, “Who is America?,” people in the United States are always already consubstantial with Baron Cohen because we know the question and watch the anecdotes to seek the answers. I would argue that the trick is finding consubstantiation with the show’s guests. We may never understand why a guest on the show acts in a certain way, but as we react to their actions, consubstantiation inevitably occurs because we are experiencing their anecdote with them.  So while the identification process can be divisive, anecdotes allow for us to at least find a sense of congruency even with the show’s most grotesque guests.

Anecdotes are the package through which Baron Cohen’s humor is delivered, which allows us to digest the repulsive qualities of some of Baron Cohen’s caricatures as well as some of his guests.  Each piece of the setup allows us to scrutinize and manage the show’s consequences because we observe the scene, characters, and resolution through an anecdotal formula. Baron Cohen sets the stage for his audience to be in on the joke, so that we can find humor in a guest's pitfall.  

Understanding and acknowledging the purpose of anecdotes allows us to more narrowly discuss the dynamics of the situational humor. Each guest offers us an interpretation of who they are as a person, then it is the audience(s)’s job to determine where the guest fits under the  umbrella question Who is America?. Having an idea of the terministic screens through which an agent may approach a situation sometimes allows us to accommodate ourselves to that person in order to meet them where they're at, to pinpoint the sense of congruence with another individual even if we find their experience unrelatable. Baron Cohen is notoriously manipulative towards his guests when he effectively uses his characterized rhetoric to identify with his guest (often choosing characters that will relate to particular guests), and we as an audience have to decide if the vulnerabilities his guests reveal are worth the cringe. Even if they are worth the sometimes horrifying outcomes, then we have to decide how far we would be willing to go or to see someone else go to uncover the truth. Sometimes, we may also find that our identification with the guest is what motivates the humor, such as when Bernie Sanders refuses to be on the same page as conservative Billy Wayne Ruddick. 

Insofar as we find an anecdote comedic, we identify with it. In Attitudes Toward History (1959), Burke says: “Comedy deals with man [sic] in society…Comedy is essentially humane.” The setups Baron Cohen creates through disguise often provide comedic relief because the audience can find laughs in the outlandish scenarios.  In a recent article, Brett Biebel discusses the forgiving nature of comedy, he says: “[Comedy] asks its audience to remember that its characters are not inherently evil, and it encourages identification with fools.” Baron Cohen’s successfully executed satire elicits honesty, the comedic consequences elicit an unbearable truth because we often see a deceitful side of his guests. The comedic elements encourage audiences to keep watching—to keep seeking truth from the guests. I’m not going to pretend that I’ve done Plato’s work and uncovered what Truth means. Truth isn’t a definition pertinent to me generally. We all have truths that usually were revealed to us through anecdotes we experienced, and sometimes these truths are relevant, and other times the truth is that I’m never going to enjoy eating a Cheeto chip, and that’s okay in spite of how many people seem to like them. However, I think that it is essential to recognize  that comedy allows its users to unveil truths within individuals. As these truths are revealed, we may find ourselves unexpectedly identifying with someone.  (For example, I can appreciate when people refer to Donald Trump as a Cheeto.)

The goal of Who is America?  involves ultimately revealing the guests’ motivations and hidden identities. When we experience the reveal, we may or may not find ourselves appreciating a guest’s response to Baron Cohen’s trap.  Baron Cohen’s comedic consequences may make us feel significantly dissociated from others when we consider their uninhibited responses to the disguises he  utilizes within his show. In the section “Drama in Disguise,” I go into depth about former representative Jason Spencer’s appearance on Who is America?. I find the scene hilarious because of how Baron Cohen orchestrates the setup, but I find Spencer reprehensible for how he responds. This dissociative response can occur through any sort of comedic channel, not just Baron Cohen’s show. 

Who is America? utilizes anecdotes in intentionally comedic ways. Comedy is complex in definition, which makes it difficult to precisely pinpoint. For this reason, we may acknowledge that we need a working definition of comedy that pertains specifically to Who is America?. The OED Online defines comedy as: “A drama written in a light, amusing, or satirical style and having a happy or conciliatory ending. More generally: any literary composition or entertainment which portrays amusing characters or incidents and is intended to elicit laughter.” While this definition offers us an initial playing field for understanding comedy, we may recognize that Baron Cohen’s guests may not be amusing and they may not “elicit laughter.” Therefore, when we think about the show we have to consider comedy in juxtaposition with the guests. The comedy is intended for the audience, and it is delivered at the expense of the guest. 

Burke views comedy as humanizing, which we see as guests expose vulnerable parts of their identities. Biebel notes, “Burke had high praise for comedy thanks to its ability to deal in human rather than absolute terms. In a world of pluralism, skepticism, and debate, comedy can provide a coherent articulation of difficult-to-reconcile tensions.” Who is America? specifically interrogates these tensions and often exposes them through comedic turmoil as Baron Cohen continues a setup from start to finish. Baron Cohen’s show picks apart the ideas of pluralism, skepticism, and debate by targeting specific guests. For example, a good deal of skepticism surrounds O. J. Simpson, and Baron Cohen creates comedic turmoil by attempting to identify with Simpson as a wealthy businessman. Simpson’s reaction further perpetuates skepticism through his hesitancy creating comedy out of the uncomfortable. Baron Cohen’s history for fooling guests also reinforces comedic elements. He takes outrageous measures through his disguises to attempt to expose what he believes to be true.

Another feature of Who is America?’s comedy that we have to consider is the role Baron Cohen has in choreographing it. In her work, “When Comedy Goes to Extremes: The Influence of Ideology and Social Identity on Source Liking, Credibility, and Counterarguing,” Amy Becker considers the definition of comedy specifically in conjunction with Who is America?.  Becker labels Baron Cohen’s choreography as “extreme comedy.” Extreme comedy, she says, is:  “material that goes too far in its criticism, working at the margins to shock us with its attempts to satirize and parody our current state of political affairs and our hyperbolic media environment.” Becker’s assessment suggests that extreme comedy may elicit shock which interferes with the OED Online definition by disrupting the traditional “happy” comedic ending. However, while this may be true, I argue that by disrupting our traditional expectations, the show creates a comedic social commentary. This commentary would lack meaning if every guest was left unscathed. Baron Cohen’s guests often represent a reflection of American imperfection, and if their flaws lack emphasis there is little for the audience to take away. Becker criticizes Who is America? for subverting political agency rather than just undermining it. She says, “ Extreme comedy is therefore a form of destabilizing humor that attacks the highest political targets for their clear wrongdoings, rather than for their minor gaffes or personal foibles.” The idea of extreme comedy appears to frustrate Becker, and I’m sure much of the show’s audience, because as she says: “extreme comedy is satire that spends more time dividing rather than uniting us in the effort to be a more engaged and active, yet critical citizenry.” Instead of seeing the show as subversive, I would argue with Becker and say it is necessary revisionism. Baron Cohen’s extreme comedy provides us with new information about political representatives and celebrities that we may have never been privy to if the show didn’t push comedic boundaries. 

By placing the traditional expectation of comedy in line with Becker’s conception of extreme comedy, we may conclude that the humor of Who is America? can be defined as: amusing satirical entertainment that seeks to revise how we understand American political and popular culture. By invoking this type of comedy on the show, Baron Cohen remarks on larger social issues such as racism, sexism, and xenophobia. Baron Cohen’s guests may leave a scene without recognizing the commentary he is making about them, but the show’s audience can find resolution in the reveal of what a guest’s reaction says about them. For example, in the season finale of Who is America?, Sacha Baron Cohen attempts to fool O. J. Simpson with the intention of trying to trap Simpson into admitting he killed Nicole Brown. Baron Cohen disguises himself as playboy millionaire Gio Minaldo in a clear attempt to identify with Simpson’s current lifestyle. Despite Baron Cohen’s efforts, Simpson never admits to murdering Brown. (Yes, both Sacha Baron Cohen and myself will have to live with wondering if he had just chosen one of his other disguises if he could have gotten to the truth.) However, Simpson’s avoidance suggests that he consistently performs in his every day life as though he did not murder Brown, and he refuses to relent that performance for anyone. In this case, extreme comedy allows us to find as much humor in Simpson’s foolishness as we do with Baron Cohen’s performance.

Baron Cohen employed extreme comedy long before Who is America? with Da Ali G Show and movies such as Borat.  The fact that Baron Cohen has previously employed extreme comedy gives him a particular credibility over the revisionism the show cultivates. His previous comedic practices provided him with the edge he needed to successfully execute Who is America?. To go one step further, I would offer that his particular credibility is, in fact, what continues to shock his audiences. Baron Cohen’s process rarely fails because audiences are still shocked to learn that Baron Cohen fooled them with disguises (it’s like when the Scooby Doo crew uncovers the monster). When Baron Cohen fails in his specific endeavors there is still something to gain—an anecdote.  Baron Cohen’s comedic rhetoric provides audiences a memorable experience, an anecdote that they might share with someone else; as long as his comedy is memorable, Baron Cohen’s comedic craft is preserved.

While I previously mentioned that truth’s definitional sense is not as relevant to me in creating this project, I find it pertinent to acknowledge that truthful anecdotes are not only more appealing, they are also more rhetorically successful. Honest and authentic anecdotes are almost always the most persuasive in moving bodies towards meaningful reactions. This “truth factor” is why Sacha Baron Cohen commits to his characters: if they ever became unbelievable he would immediately fail. Much as Sacha Baron Cohen commits to his comedy, one of the directors and writers of Who is America?, Nathan Fielder, is equally known for his commitment to comedy on his show Nathan for You (2013-2017). As a Nathan for You fan, I was not surprised to learn about Fielder’s involvement in Who is America?. Fielder’s comedy aligns with Baron Cohen’s by utilizing anecdotal moments with real people, except that Fielder orchestrates events as himself without a disguise. I bring up Fielder because an episode of his show Nathan for You is literally called “The Anecdote,” and only serves to reinforce how much we depend on honest anecdotes to identify with others. In “The Anecdote” episode, Fielder explains that he has been invited to appear on Jimmy Kimmel’s late night show. Having failed at delivering laughable anecdotes on previous talk shows, Fielder plans out a hilarious tale in advance. The only issue is that none of his story has actually happened, so he sets out to make it happen. Fielder’s appearance on Kimmel is easily accessible on YouTube. Perhaps most hilariously, Kimmel clearly has no idea the efforts Fielder made into creating this anecdote, and Fielder’s appearance on Kimmel is the punchline for the Nathan for You episode. 

Usually, relatable comedy is co-extensive of real-life experience. Fielder’s antics are relatable because every single one of us has embellished a story to make it more funny or compelling. Baron Cohen’s orchestrated anecdotes put his guests in outrageous situations making their experiences wildly unrelatable, but the guests’ reactions are comedic based on how compelling audiences find them to be. Many of us have a tendency to lean into the comfort of accepting a television personality point blank, but Baron Cohen’s art picks people apart to reveal pieces we might never have expected from them. Sure, there is a whole other portion to this art wherein we miss the depth to Baron Cohen in all of his own agency because we are focused on him as a character in disguise. We cannot become, as Burke might suggest, consubstantial with him through his artistic encounters. However, we may ultimately find consubstantiation with Baron Cohen by joining him in asking “Who is America?”.