I suppose one of the problems with getting more white tops on TV is that who the hell would want to watch, for example, a sit-com featuring the daily affairs of white tops. Plus, there’s the general problem of making something funny out of daily affairs of white tops.
I suppose there might be something funny in losing one’s hair and developing arthritis in one’s joints or not being able to stand without one’s knees making cracking noises audible clear across the room. And of course one could work for humor I suppose all the various bowel and evacuation problems that go along with aging, like developing lactose intolerance or finding that one has to pee every other second. And oh yes, the absolutely hysterical issues surrounding the prostate, its enlargement and possible cancer treatments.
And the imagination runs rampant at the possibility for humor in all those doctors visits, with insane doctors, and false positives, and getting the wrong results, and various humiliating procedures, and diverse operations to extend the quality of life like knee and hip replacements.
And then of course the laugh-out-loud funny problems involved in paying for all those doctor visits while on a fixed budget in the middle of an inflationary cycle.
And what about that thigh slapping experience of one day having your driver’s license taken away because your macular degeneration has narrowed your vision to a dark tunnel.
What a crack up! I mean staggering around in the dark and falling down the stairs because of vertigo and lying there helplessly on the floor until somebody happens to find you.
Comedy I was once told was like the bouncing ball. In comedy, you bounce. You fall on that banana but you get up, brush yourself off and go on arrogantly believing that you are invulnerable. And, well, that is pretty funny–that necessarily denial of our fleshly being with our fleshly end keeps us ongoing.
But when one gets a white top the bounce starts to go.
Still a white top comedy might be possible in some niche market.