Whose Joke Is This Anyway?

"Comedy is tragedy plus time." —Carol Burnett

Shakespeare was a master of mingling these elements. Woody Allen has mixed them for decades. The lives of Andy Kaufman, John Belushi, Chris Farley, Phil Hartman and scores of other often unhappy funnymen certainly fused them. And this summer, NBC gets back to the business of merging comedy, tragedy, time and a reality show.

Ladies and gentlemen, would you welcome back to the microphone Last Comic Standing!?

Seriously. That's a question. Will audiences welcome back a show that was nominated for an Emmy, touted by its network, celebrated by critics ... and then got the hook a month later? Because not everyone will be laughing. Certainly not those who know what really went on with this series.

A Little History, A Lot of Drama
When Last Comic Standing debuted during the summer of 2003, contestants' stand-up routines left live audiences in hysterics. The show's premise—to find the funniest person in America—seemed lighthearted and innocent. And by combining elements of American Idol, Survivor and Real World, the show drew impressive ratings.

But offstage, it exposed the comedy industry's darker side. Fun and games quickly turned into cutthroat competition between desperate, crusty veterans who, after years of barely scraping by, could taste their big break—the grand prize included a six-figure NBC talent contract, a stand-up special on Comedy Central, a follow-up appearance on The Tonight Show and unprecedented exposure.

Once the field was pared to 10, viewers got a glimpse of just how unfunny comedians can be. Head-to-head elimination rounds came to near-blows. Secretive alliances formed to dispose of rivals. And every week, contestants backstabbed their friends and roommates.

Underdog Dat Phan (who said he'd been sleeping under a desk before entering the contest) managed to withstand repeated gang-ups from his peers and beat the crass favorite, Ralphie May, in the finals—but not without May getting in some parting shots. "He pulled heartstrings," the foul-mouthed jokester complained. "Dat got the majority of the air time, and the majority of the sympathy. ... [He] may see the immediate rewards, but there's no shortcut to the top of the mountain. He'll still have to put in time. He'll never get the respect that he'll eventually earn, because he bypassed the whole route." Ouch.

Who Cares About the Sideshow, Let's Hear Some Jokes
The following season brought more behind-the-scenes fireworks when celebrity judges Drew Carey and Brett Butler called the Top-10 selection process "crooked and dishonest," adding that they had nothing to do with who was chosen. "It was like somebody at NBC cast the show ahead of the event in Vegas," Carey said. "If this happened on Survivor or any other reality TV show, it would be a major scandal." Other critics pointed out that two of the semifinalists just happened to be managed by one of the series' executive producers—an obvious conflict of interest.

NBC responded to the accusations by flexing its corporate muscle, reminding the judges of contractual fine print that gave network executives and show producers the final say on casting decisions. It also added that once the 10 finalists were decided, it was up to viewers' votes as to who stayed and who went.

Ratings continued to rise, and the network immediately brought the show back for another round. This time, a format twist had winners from the first two seasons facing off in a "battle of the best."

Then a strange thing happened. Call it too much of a good thing, but viewership began to slump. And with one episode to go, NBC pulled the plug in a desperate attempt to promote Father of the Pride. (Never heard of it? Didn't think so.) The decision left loyal fans enraged ... and hanging, while NBC shipped off the final episode to Comedy Central—and then leaked the results prior to its airing. Suddenly, no one was laughing.

Whatever It Takes to Offend
Now, after all that, NBC is trying to get the last laugh by bringing back Last Comic Standing for a summer fling after an almost two-year hiatus. Gone is host Jay Mohr who lashed out at the network for its poor treatment of the show. He's been replaced by former judge and fellow funnyman Anthony Clark. (You might know him from CBS' recently cancelled Yes, Dear.)

What hasn't been replaced is the devotion to PG-13 material, whether it's dished out in stand-up routines, roasts or off-the-cuff comments. Though the series began (in 2003) with a sense of cleanliness and restraint, routines quickly deteriorated into clumps of off-color, frequently bleeped jokes about sexual positions, masturbation, oral sex, rape, penis and vagina size, strippers, prostitutes and all sorts of other "stuff" that usually gets relegated to HBO and FX.

If you ask me, those are all better reasons for comedy fans to stay away than hurt feelings, jilted hosts and network politics. Time doesn't turn sleaze into sushi. So my advice for those still clinging to the hope that they'll find a few more clean summer laughs on NBC? Forget it. This show's not even worth heckling anymore.