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Carrot Top Bottoms Out

by Hatt Hourihan

Allow me to vent. I enjoy watching certain commercials, sometimes even laugh out loud at them. Entertaining commercials are remembered, much more clearly than those stupid SUV commercials where they scale Kilimanjaro or drive through monsoons. The admen and women know that the American people love being entertained; this is why Carrot Top is so perplexing to me.

Many of us cringe at the first inevitable shot of hair, frizzy and red-orange, like the fires of hell itself. The hair is the dead giveaway, although the Boschian vision of horror that is the rabid, cackling face of Carrot Top will always be a shock, nostrils flaring and voice grating as he preaches the positives of calling collect. And it is not simply a brief encounter between these ads and the viewer; these commercials are in heavy rotation. It is safe to say, sadly, that at any time, somewhere in America, someone is looking at Carrot Top.

Born Scott Thompson, Carrot Top is, by any stretch of the imagination, not funny. He combines a blend of cartoonish looks, hippie tie-dyed fashion sense, clownish behavior and adult innuendo (?!) in his act, and I get the impression that he is attempting to come off as a live-wire of energy and creativity, who is staggering in his individuality. Score another stirring success for the ad folks.

Carrot Top has neither the comic energy or mannerisms of the effortless David Arquette (who is reminiscent of Buster Keaton hopped up on nose candy) nor the raw sensuality of Alyssa Milano (or The Future Alyssa Hourihan, as I think of her). And I won't even mention Mr. T. Carrot Top is a prop comic, which means his standup is generally based around stupid little inventions and an "aw shucks" willingness in his audience to laugh at his inanity. As prop comics go, his schtick is schlock, and once you remove the props you must deal with the vacuum that doubles for personality.

So we see Carrot Top giggling and making wisecracks, and are reminded of that annoying kid in 3rd grade who ate crayons and squealed when he laughed, after trying to stick a booger on your Transformers lunch box. Even worse, that kid now has flaming red hair, a fan club, a tour bus, and muscles (think back to the beach commercial). And all along you thought he was in comedy hell smashing watermelons with Gallagher.

Although, perhaps this similarity to all things annoying is part of the reason for Carrot Top's success. In his good-natured idiocy, perhaps we see a certain goodness; because that kid that ate crayons was often simply misunderstood, and simply wanted attention. And when that kid transferred schools, as they always did, everyone always felt a little bad that they weren't nicer. Carrot Top just may be a manifestation of those feelings of pity and empathy. This is why, when he ruins a perfectly good episode of Space Ghost Coast to Coast by chortling and yanking his hair while flapping his lips, the ad people in corporate America saw something, an element they wanted attached to their product. And if this, in fact, is the case, then I salute you, Carrot Top; you may be a scourge to everyone with a sense of humor, but then maybe it is because we all see a little part of ourselves in you; and maybe, just maybe, you are a metaphysical genius.

Or maybe not. Now get the fuck off my television.

Email Matt Hourihan at Hourihan50@hotmail.com