People love to claim that conservatives can’t do comedy, but Norm Macdonald disproved that.
In the five years since Macdonald passed away, he has become something of a chimerical figure. His old tweets are passed around, re-posted and re-shared ad infinitum, securing his status as the modern man’s poet. Amid his observations on sports, he would occasionally drop a Dostoyevsky-esque remark, such as “Scripture. Faith. Grace. Christ, Glory of God. Smart man says nothing is a miracle. I say everything is.”
Macdonald’s death came as a tremendous shock.
As the country was slowly recovering from the COVID-19 pandemic, the comedian, actor, and “Saturday Night Live” alum’s death at the age of 61 hit hard.
Macdonald’s friends hadn’t known he was ill. When he was first diagnosed with cancer in 2013, he refused to tell anyone except his family, agent, and ex-wife.
According to those with him when he died, he didn’t want his diagnosis to “affect the way the audience or any of his loved ones saw him.” He didn’t want his friends or fans to perceive him differently because he was sick. Instead, he focused on his craft, which included making wisecracks up until the very end.
In June 2020, shortly after learning that his condition had worsened, Macdonald chose to record a comedy special, aptly named “Norm Macdonald: Nothing Special.” He recorded the material alone in his apartment, and despite his health troubles, it holds up as one of the tightest hours of comedy released this decade.
Norm didn’t stop working even after being admitted to the hospital in July 2021, where he recorded voiceover work for Seth MacFarlane’s sci-fi show “The Orville.”
Upon his death on Sept. 14, 2021, everyone rallied around the mantra that Norm was one of the funniest comedians of all time. His clips were passed around, showing off his unapologetic, deadpan humor that was edgy enough to get him fired from “Saturday Night Live” at the height of the show’s popularity, and his.
Macdonald’s silent suffering at the end of his life was a testimony to his character: Rather than draw unwanted sympathy, he continued pursuing the artistry of comedy.
Macdonald was one of the few celebrities who chose to be outspoken about his Christian family. In the world of comedy clubs and sleazy Hollywood drama, his faith made him an anomaly.
Macdonald was honest about his own struggles, such as a years-long gambling addiction. Still, he never bypassed an opportunity to discuss Christianity.
In an interview with Larry King, Macdonald openly declared, “I’m a Chrisian. It’s not stylish to say that, now.” When King replied that he couldn’t believe in Christ, Macdonald calmly replied, “It sounds like you have a God-shaped hole in your heart.”
Macdonald loved to play fools, like his character Mitch in the criminally underrated 1998 film, “Dirty Work.” Yet, he was an incredibly intellectual man. He had a profound love for Russian literature and cited the renowned writers Anton Chekov and Leo Tolstoy as two of his biggest influences. His infamous “Moth Joke,” often described as Kafka-esque, is still praised for being deeply philosophical and “brilliant.”
What made Macdonald’s comedy so incisive was his honesty. He told the truth, even when it felt brutal, such as during the O.J. Simpson’s trial or amidst Bill Clinton’s sex scandal.
When Hollywood and major television networks elected to say things that were palatable, Macdonald chose to say things that were true. His commitment to veracity led him into controversial waters. Macdonald was pro-life, bluntly telling his longtime friend Dennis Miller, “I don’t think a woman should have the right to choose to murder a baby.” He criticized the #MeToo movement, choosing to stay loyal to friends who were nearly cancelled by the woke mob.
It has been five years since Norm Macdonald passed away, and it feels like we need him now more than ever.
In the age of podcast wars and cultural insanity, his clarity would cut like glass. His old tweets often resurface, proving that his prescience was more wisdom than mere commentary (“What terrifies me is if ISIS were to detonate a nuclear device and kill 50 million Americans. Imagine the backlash against peaceful Muslims?”).
Many prominent celebrities get clicks and content from chasing the trend of the week. Macdonald, on the other hand, was hopelessly devoted to his beliefs, even when it got him booed, fired, and, perhaps most honorably, kicked off “The View.”
While it’s important not to idolize celebrities, there is a lesson to be learned from Macdonald.
He was one of the last men who cared about his craft more than he did about his fame. His quiet, dignified death is perhaps one of the greatest examples of his devotion to vocation. He refused clout chasing and instead stuck to what he knew best: telling the truth, even when it pissed people off. He was smarmy, he was charming, and he always knew exactly what he was doing.
The final chapter of Norm Macdonald’s 2016 autobiography ends with the unironic sentiment, “I’ve been lucky.”
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