I was in elementary school when “Mork & Mindy” was a hit. Nanu nanu? Not for me. Maybe I was turned off by the rainbow suspenders.
Over the years my dislike of Robin Williams’ brand of frenetic, dated humor only grew. I have even less tolerance for his mawkish turns in “Dead Poets Society” and “Patch Adams,” which, according to one critic, “Indulges to the hilt every obnoxious, hyperactive, oh-what-I-wouldn’t-give-for-a-tranquilizer-gun aspect of Robin Williams’ performing style.”.
See, I was not alone. You wouldn’t know that now.
I’m not suggesting people should trash a guy when he’s dead. And if I thought any of his family members or friends read this blog, I wouldn’t be posting this.
But this latest example of our culture’s desperation for communal experience has gone too far. Social media was awash in Huffington Post-like tributes of 140 characters or less — “The moment we all fell in love with Robin Williams.” Speak for yourself.
Look, if Mr. T and Nancy Reagan jokes are you thing, go ahead and mourn. To everyone else, let’s curb the phon.
We’re told he was a nice man, and his under-the-radar USO appearances bear that out. But as a comedian and he was not my cup of tea. That doesn’t make me a bad person.
I just hope I die before Adam Sandler does.