Larry Miller, contributing humorist

IT'S DIFFICULT to imagine any American of any age who has not heard the phrase "But seriously, folks." Of course, it's also difficult to imagine any American of any age who doesn't want to personally blow the head off of every prisoner in Guantanamo, but never mind that now. "But seriously, folks" was the phrase of choice directly following uncountable trillions of jokes said out loud in America over the last hundred years. In burlesque and vaudeville houses both high and low; in theaters and night clubs; from Smith and Dale and the Marx Brothers through Berle, Hackett, King, and all their wonderful brothers; even up through Klein, Brenner, Dangerfield, and into my generation of joke-tellers, that phrase has probably been uttered over the years as much as "I love you," or even what I believe to be the most-used sentence in human history: "Can we get another round here, please?"

It's an ironic phrase, though, because after telling what was (hopefully) a terrific joke, the comic who said, "But seriously, folks," was disclaiming himself, in effect saying to his audience, "Gee, I'm sorry I had to momentarily mislead you with such pointless frivolity. Now let's get back to something weighty." I know I'm biased, having spent a good deal of my life trying to make people laugh on stage and screen, but I really can't imagine a loftier goal. Of course, that's not the view of most people, especially in my business. Comedies virtually never win Oscars, and the only reason

And yet the funny people disclaim: "But seriously, folks." The opposite never occurs. Dour, consumed, all-is-sorrow types over the years have never felt the urge to follow an existential reflection with, "Anyway, just to lighten things up a bit, folks." Part of this is a matter of ego. Grande artistes tend to think they're, well, grande artistes, and I believe they enjoy walking through life as wounded poets, if only because it goes over so well with young women who are working out tremendous amounts of hostility against their fathers. Well, chalk one up for serious people.

But, you see in all of American life there has, for a long time, been a battle of sorts to define what is serious and what is not, and all the wrong people are consistently winning. No matter how stupid, wrongheaded, or immoral some of our leaders and representatives have been over the years, if they can affect an appearance of troubled thoughtfulness when they address our problems, if they speak in a measured way, if they look around and nod with gravity, and if they use coy, calculated gestures--biting a lower lip, say--they will always be considered "serious" people, and there's no telling how far they can go. And I just don't get it. P.J. O'Rourke has created some of the most immensely funny things in the history of immensely funny things, and I consider his work to be wise, large, insightful, and practical; in short, serious.