Bill Maher Isn’t Sorry
Not now. Not ever.
By LUKE O’BRIEN, Politico
November 21, 2013
So a comedian undergoing glaucoma treatment walks into the Cognac Room at the St. Regis Hotel in Manhattan. He’s wearing a Mets cap and the black jeans that he might have slept in. He swigs some coffee and complains about a 2 p.m. wake-up call, which is understandable once he explains he went to bed at 9 a.m.
“I haven’t eaten yet today. I don’t know what time it is. Who am I? Where am I? What city? What hour?” says Bill Maher, gazing out the window at a grim November sky. “May I use this interview as a one-issue diatribe against daylight savings? Fucking farmers. For the sake of two or three giant agribusinesses, the rest of us have to suffer. The one time we need more light, they take it away.”
Outside on 55th Street, a pedestrian spots Maher, bangs on the window and cocks his fist in a gesture of solidarity. It should be noted that this passerby is black—as are a considerable number of Maher’s fans (and not just those he’s dated, a roster that includes several black women of the curvaceous gentlemen’s club variety). In explaining the popularity that a pallid Irish-Jew from New Jersey would enjoy with African Americans, New York magazine once quoted Christopher “Kid” Reid, a Maher confidante and one half of the hip-hop duo Kid ‘n’ Play. “What people of color like about Bill is his honesty,” he said. “Black people can smell fear in white people. They’re like bloodhounds. When Bill and I hang out, and there are people of color around, they gravitate to him.”
(More here.)
By LUKE O’BRIEN, Politico
November 21, 2013
So a comedian undergoing glaucoma treatment walks into the Cognac Room at the St. Regis Hotel in Manhattan. He’s wearing a Mets cap and the black jeans that he might have slept in. He swigs some coffee and complains about a 2 p.m. wake-up call, which is understandable once he explains he went to bed at 9 a.m.
“I haven’t eaten yet today. I don’t know what time it is. Who am I? Where am I? What city? What hour?” says Bill Maher, gazing out the window at a grim November sky. “May I use this interview as a one-issue diatribe against daylight savings? Fucking farmers. For the sake of two or three giant agribusinesses, the rest of us have to suffer. The one time we need more light, they take it away.”
Outside on 55th Street, a pedestrian spots Maher, bangs on the window and cocks his fist in a gesture of solidarity. It should be noted that this passerby is black—as are a considerable number of Maher’s fans (and not just those he’s dated, a roster that includes several black women of the curvaceous gentlemen’s club variety). In explaining the popularity that a pallid Irish-Jew from New Jersey would enjoy with African Americans, New York magazine once quoted Christopher “Kid” Reid, a Maher confidante and one half of the hip-hop duo Kid ‘n’ Play. “What people of color like about Bill is his honesty,” he said. “Black people can smell fear in white people. They’re like bloodhounds. When Bill and I hang out, and there are people of color around, they gravitate to him.”
(More here.)
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