Know Your Bystanders: Michael Pershan

Five quick questions for our Deputy Editor

EDITOR’S NOTE: As most of you know, Le Bystander—c’est moi. Yes, Brian started it in 1982, and Brian and Alan and I revivified it in 2015, but for the past seven and a half years, if something bore the Bystander name, I’d scribbled or squinted at it for hours. This has been exactly as tiring as it sounds. I am not a young man, people. I eat early and sleep late.

More to the point, it’s not a recipe for permanence. My partners have commented bleakly on my tendency to bike unnervingly close to Big Blue Buses and, we all agree, it would be a real shame of this whole edifice came crashing down because of one civil servant’s ill-timed glance at tentacle porn.

So when Michael Pershan approached me last year asking if he could lend a hand, I pounced. I’d known him for years (I was nearly forced to whip it out in front of his mom the morning of 9/11, long story) and found him to be a tremendously funny, smart writer with a literary bent that nicely balances my predilection for jokes about, well, nearly whipping it out in front of someone’s mom. He’s appeared in Bystander regularly, and a few months ago I asked him to keep an eye on this Substack. I’m sure you will come to enjoy him as much as I do.—M.G.

Pershan, at his desk, editing this newsletter.

What are the five things our readers should know about you?

1. I am thirty-five years old, and John Darnielle nailed it when he said thirty-five is “not old, but can feel old.”

2. In the thirteen years since I moved to New York, I’ve lived in five apartments. That’s one move when we got married, and another for the birth of each of three children, plus one to get away from a truly outrageous mouse infestation.

3. I grew up in Skokie, IL, a place best known for hosting an outrageous Nazi infestation in the 1970s. The thing everyone forgets: though the court ruled in their favor, the Nazis never marched. Even Nazis got bored of Skokie.

4. Because of my relatively uncomplicated observance of traditional Jewish laws, I think of myself as unfashionably religious. If you meet me, I’ll be wearing a yarmulke and will probably refuse to eat anything I haven’t personally slaughtered.

5. During the day I teach kids math. Both little kids (3^rd, 4^th Grade) and teens (high school).

How did you meet Michael Gerber?

He worked with my mom! I was already into humor, and my mother (always thinking) asked the kindly Michael Gerber to talk to her son and put him on the road to success and riches. Hahaha.

What kind of humor and cartoons do you like? Who do you read?

I’m working my way through Michael Kupperman’s Tales to Thrizzle and it is hitting me with some very hard laughs. Oh my god, he’s so funny.

Here are some names you’d expect, and maybe some you wouldn’t: Roald Dahl, Simon Rich, Jack Handey, Shalom Aleichem, Isaac Bashevis Singer, Shirley Jackson, George Saunders, Woody Allen, P.G. Wodehouse, John Jeremiah Sullivan, Douglas Adams, and Phillip K. Dick, who can be very funny. I like stories!

When did you start writing humor? Why?

It must have been right around thirteen, because that’s when my mother (again, always thinking) bought me Fierce Pajamas and The Thurber Carnival. I don’t remember what the initial spark was, but I think I just wanted to write and humor is what came out.

The school paper was a big deal for me. It was already flirting with humor when I joined, and by the time I took over it was just jokes. I was doing design, editing, writing most of it, and driving to Kinkos to print it. By 11^th Grade I was sharing drafts with the generous Michael Gerber and had my first online publication.

Just what are you tryin’ to do here anyway?

I love The Bystander, which I think is unique and actually kinda important. I’m very protective of the magazine, so I’m quite happy to do whatever it seems like it needs. Right now, that means reading submissions, editing twofiftyone.net, managing this Substack, and encouraging you to subscribe. Also social media stuff. This will definitely let Michael G. write more, which I think we can all agree is an unalloyed good for the world.

But expanding out: I like ambitious and interesting comedy. I like stories that manage the wistful/sad/hilarious dance. I like words. And I don’t find breaking news particularly funny. I want more humor with these qualities in the world, and who else but The Bystander is publishing it? You already know the answer.

And, with the interview thus concluded, let me show you what you missed last week on twofiftyone.net.

MAKE ME LAUGH, I DARE YOU

Challenge, accepted:

That one was from Michael Litwak, and did you know that his feature film MOLLI AND MAX IN THE FUTURE will premiere at SXSW this March? See, I bet you didn’t. But now you do.

Last week also saw the publication of Pat Cassels’ “Complete List of Made-Up Best Picture Winners, 1929 to Present,” and it starts like this:

The second I saw “Johnny Trenchfoot” I knew I was going to run this piece.

But wait! More, more, more:

• A cartoon from Frega DiPerri about peeing

• “Failed Attempts at Writing a Joke About Coelacanths,” by Tom Wallace

• A cartoon about AI and what’s coming next from Alan Rozanski

Last week we ran Personal ads in this space. This week, it’s an advice column. I present to you:

Dear Bystander,

Things are going great with my boyfriend—we’re even talking about moving in together. The only problem is his dog, Trevor. Now, I like dogs. But Trevor is impossible. He frequently pees indoors and is terrified of other dogs. I don’t want to tell my boyfriend he has to choose between me and Trevor, but I see no other way. What should I do?

Susan in Portland

***

Dear Susan,

Oh boy. Honest to god, I just don’t know.

I guess you…have to choose between the dog and the boyfriend? I’m sorry, I know that’s not helpful. I just don’t know what else to say.

I mean, you love the boyfriend, right? But he loves the dog. And you don’t like Trevor? It’s almost as if you’re totally stuck, with no good options.

If you need to make a choice, though, I guess you should probably just break up. Wait, that sounds awful. You should share your concerns about the dog? But he might get mad. Maybe this is a sign that you weren’t meant to be together? That doesn’t sound right either. I really don’t know. Follow your heart?

This seems really hard,

The Bystander

Write in your questions for The Bystander to editors [at] twofiftyone [dot] net or in the comments below, and your question may be featured in a future edition of Viral Load.