Yesterday Vanity Fair released digital images of its January cover featuring the creme de la creme of the comedy world—or, at least in VF's glossy eyes.
Everyone's a critic, sure, but Jerry Seinfeld? Will Ferrell? These two, in my estimation, rival Eddie Murphy as the most over-rated and over-paid comical actor of the year ever. And, Jim Carrey? Jim Carrey? Really? (I'm guessing his pedophilic video to Emma Stone was perceived as "cutesy doteful" rather than "put the lotion in the basket"?)
Sure, the entire casts, say, of 30 Rock and Parks & Rec and The Mindy Project cannot be featured on the cover, but where the eff is Tina Fey? or Mindy Kaling? or Wandy Sykes? or Sarah Silverman? And, most infuriating, where the hell is Tig?
The greatness of Tig's year knows no bounds—to go from a devastating morass of life-treatening-viral-illness + untimely death of mother + break-up of long-term relationship + breast cancer and life-altering (and life saving) double mastectomy to worldwide critical acclaim and record selling albums is AMAZING.
In the opening of her now legendary comedy set at the Largo this past August, Tig said that "tragedy + time = comedy." This is a plot equation that has stood the test of literary and dramatic time. But, fuck time. Tig's doesn't need it. Comedy will always be untimely, for her.
"Friends of Tig" have claimed that she's featured within VF's covers. In my opinion, that's Mantra # 3: "Not good enough."
I've been a fan of Tig's for years, ever since she straddled that Harley Davidson wearing a Kenny Roger's t-shirt in Sarah Silverman's Tig-vagina-fantasy:
(Tig on a bike...a different bike, clearly, not the one from Sarah's fantasy.)
For my 30th birthday a few years ago, I celebrated with Tig....er, "Tig at My Party," the ~hour long video of her standing in front of a green screen pretending to be "at your party." The green screen says it all.
While Vanity Fair didn't make her a cover girl (and, nowadays, I thought ALL THE LESBIANS were "covergirls"?), we still think she's pretty great over here at Vp. The people at Pitchfork think so too: