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It's good, old-fashioned satire

Organizers of the Mummers' Feb. 20 promenade down Main Street in Manayunk are concerned about a shortage of sponsors, The Inquirer reported last week, because of negative publicity surrounding skits deemed homophobic or immigrant-unfriendly during last month's parade down Broad Street.

The Finnegan New Year’s Brigade’s performance centered on Bruce Jenner’s transition to Caitlyn, and featured Wheaties and Froot Loops boxes.
The Finnegan New Year’s Brigade’s performance centered on Bruce Jenner’s transition to Caitlyn, and featured Wheaties and Froot Loops boxes.Read moreED HILLE / Staff Photographer

Organizers of the Mummers' Feb. 20 promenade down Main Street in Manayunk are concerned about a shortage of sponsors, The Inquirer reported last week, because of negative publicity surrounding skits deemed homophobic or immigrant-unfriendly during last month's parade down Broad Street.

Weird, isn't that, to read the words "parade down Broad Street" instead of the traditional march north? The Mummer tradition, more than a century old, was based on the notion that once a year, Philadelphians from working-class neighborhoods had a sacred right and civic duty to march into the hipster-haunted canyons of Center City, past the old-money swells lined up on the dramatic curved stairway of the Union League, and past the disapproving stone visage of Moses the lawgiver staring down from the south portal of City Hall, where the invading neighborhood army suddenly swept left and was greeted by the cheers of thousands of hearty fans in bleachers, all bathed in bright lights awaiting this very moment, a roiling riot of color and joyous motion, a sea of satin umbrellas pumping, of gold-spray-painted work boots strutting in a mad Philadelphia moment below Billy Penn's bronze hat and permanently averted northeastward gaze.

Anyone who has borne witness to what goes on in the eye of that shape-shifting scrum in front of the judges and television cameras understands the elemental truth about these men in dresses a bridesmaid wouldn't wear: Wenches just wanna have fun. This is not rocket science. Frequently, it is barely coherent social commentary powered by pop culture.

That's why I was disappointed and confounded by the critical reaction to one of the funniest comic-club concepts I've seen in years. The Finnegan New Year's Brigade's Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner cereal-box gag was about as hurtful as a Joan Rivers Tonight Show joke. I can almost hear Rivers' voice working the punch line: "Of course, Bruce Jenner's picture appeared on Wheaties boxes. Caitlyn Jenner has also had a cereal-box offer - from Froot Loops! Oh, grow up!"

Bruce Jenner was not a timid, vulnerable, private person who underwent sex reassignment. He was the wild-card rumor machine of the Kardashian Family Flying Circus. This skit wasn't a hurtful barb aimed at transgender people. It was a pie in the face of a shameless, posturing, publicity-seeking prevaricator's unseemly, choreographed coming-out pageant. Did I mention that most of the guys in the skit were wearing dresses?

Most of the spectators I saw watching the Finnegan New Year's Brigade march past reacted with humor, not outrage. I think the brigade took an unfair hit in the media coverage, right up to the recent Philly.com headline "Outrage over Mummers hurts Manayunk parade" (Jan. 31). And Mayor Kenney, a guy with serious Second Street Mummer cred, led the charge even before his inauguration. One thing he said that I found troubling was that "you can't pick on" trans people, gay people, and immigrants.

"It's not funny," he continued. "Satire is something that's funny, not hurtful."

Then why is effective satire so often called biting rather than, say, nibbling?

Jonathan Swift wrote what is still considered the defining satirical classic in the annals of English literature. Written in a persuasive and logical manner as a suggested solution to the abject poverty in Ireland, Swift's essay argued that the staggering number of Irish babies dying of starvation could be dramatically decreased if these babies were simply sold to wealthy English landowners as dinner or even breakfast meats. Swift wrote about an American acquaintance who told him that "A young healthy child well nursed, is, at a year old, a most delicious nourishing and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled."

People who believed that the lives of Irish babies mattered were outraged by Swift's dispassionate arguments. What many found especially hurtful, to use Kenney's term, was the cavalier title he gave his essay: "A Modest Proposal." Now that's satire.

Clark DeLeon writes regularly for Currents. deleonc88@aol.com