Michael Ian Black (Stella, Best Week Ever, Sierra Mist spokesman) is one of the funniest comedians. Ever. I read a post about music on his blog yesterday and I thought I’d share it with you.

People ask me all the time “what kind of music I’m into.” I hate this question because what they’re really asking is, “Are you as cool as me?” I can answer right now. No. No I’m not. No, I’m not into that twee British act you read about it in Gravesitter or Thunderfuck or Quiznuts or whatever obscure music magazine you read. No, I didn’t go to the Bohemian Shithead concert the other night in Williamsburg. No, I’ve never heard of them, and no I don’t want you to burn me a CD of their “amazing new album.”

What’s on my iPod? Your dick.

Asking somebody what kind of music they’re into is exactly the same as asking them what their sign is, an attempt to discern something meaningful from the meaningless. What possible difference does it make? What are you going to learn from me if I tell you I like U2? That I’m into debt relief?

And there’s just no good answer. Turning the situation around, if I ask somebody the same question, here’s what I’m thinking based on their answer:

Jazz – douchebag
Classical – douchebag
Metal – douchebag
Country – douchebag
Rap – douchebag
Pop – douchebag
Classic Rock – douchebag
Christian Rock – douchebag
Alternative Rock – JUST LIKE ME!!!

Not that people generally answer in genres. They don’t. People just tell you whatever band they’re mildly interested in who they think you will think is cool. So they’ll say, “I’m really into Feist right now,” when what they’re really listening to is that kickin’ new Jonas Brothers jam.

Or else they’ll say, “I’m really eclectic?” For some reason, this sentence always ends in a question mark. “Eclectic?” And then, without prompting, they’ll tell you all the “eclectic” music they listen to, “I like Frank Sinatra and the Clash,” in a tone that suggests “Can you believe how CRAZY I am???” Douchebag.
And yet, I like Frank Sinatra. I like The Clash. I like jazz. I like pretty much all of the music I just made fun of other people for liking. Liking music does not a douchebag make. Being “into” music does. If you’re much older than an adolescent and you’re still keeping up with what’s going on in the Bristol scene or wherever the fuck, then you’re a douchebag. If you even know that Bristol has a scene then you’re one, too. If you are older than twenty years old and any part of your disposable income is going towards concert t-shirts, then you are a douchebag. Or even if you find yourself referring to any rock band’s “early work,” you’re treading on some very thin, very douchy ice.

When people ask me that question, I just tell them I don’t listen to music. If they ask me why I tell them I hate it because music killed my dad. That usually ends the conversation. But if they persist in asking how music can kill somebody, I just say that my dad was Amadeus. Then they understand.

I just bought MIB’s newish book, My Custom Van: And 50 Other Mind-Blowing Essays that Will Blow Your Mind All Over Your Face, and can’t wait to dive into it. You should read this small excerpt from the book, entitled “What I Would Be Thinking If I Were Billy Joel Driving to a Holiday Party Where I Knew There Was Going to Be a Piano,” that is also hilarious.

I am a Wonderful Man (2007, Lakeshore Theatre, Chicago):

Michael Ian Black – Gay

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