Review of “But Seriously”, by Michael Widlanski

2/4/99

The Last Laugh

By: Michael Widlanski

BUT SERIOUSLY by Sam Orbaum. Published by The Jerusalem Post. 286 pp. NIS 14.95.

    Humor is nothing to laugh about. Anyone who has looked under the makeup of the clown or examined the off-stage personality of the comedian knows that there is something serious lurking behind the guffaws and belly-laughs. It is also a very personal matter.
So let's get personal about Sam Orbaum, the author of this collection of humorous essays appropriately entitled But Seriously.
    Before I start I must confess to a long relationship with the author, and also that I made it a point never to read Sam's column in The Jerusalem Post.
    Now I feel that even the most noble reader is entitled to a bit of revenge. This revenge is due me - and others at The Post - who have had to deal with the Sam Orbaum School of Journalism, whose primary rule is: Therapeutic Newspapering. In other words, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger; and no pain no gain.
    At The Post, Sam Orbaum has served as an advertising copywriter, features editor and lay-out man, in addition to writing his column. I met Sam through his editing, not his humor. Despite the fact that Sam told me that he was only hurting me for my own good, I used to dread the days we worked together. The only way I could survive was by discovering his weakness. It seems that Sam is a venomously compulsive verbalizer, a scabrous Scrabble player always on the lookout for some sesquipedalian bon-mot. Once I discovered this, I would make a regular peace offering - words he could use. There was a chance I could partially pacify, perhaps even placate, the vengeful demon who was the recidivist wrecker and rewriter of my work. However, even my pacification program failed once, and Sam succeeded in forcing me to scrap an exclusive interview with the head of IDF intelligence/research on which I had worked for weeks and which I had managed to sneak through the military censor. I was so grateful for the experience that I never submitted another feature article to Sam, vowing also that I would never read anything written by him.
    After all those years of punishing Sam, I must sadly admit that I was only punishing myself. Sam's columns, collected in this book, are very funny. Sometimes you double over, but usually you beam and smile. All that pain he inflicted on me is very funny when it's being inflicted on someone else.
    Sam is a Zorro with words, cutting his prey to ribbons with his finely sharpened sentences.
    But I don't want you to think that Sam is brave. How brave can an author be who, in a chronically cute cut-out, poses pusillanimously behind his three ghost writers: his triplet daughters who penned the six-dozen-odd essays he has plagiarized. Knowing Sam, he probably extorted their allowances in return for the columns.
    Still, the triplets' pain is our gain. I have many favorites among the essays. One has to be the send-off of the national pastime of barbecuing on Independence Day. It hurts me to say this, but it is a masterpiece.
    As he hits his stride, he lovingly lacerates everything and everyone from Yasser Arafat to Aryeh Deri in a way that cannot help but leave you smiling long after you have put the book away.
    This reader gradually came to realize that Sam is no sham, and that he is probably a multi-faceted human being or, rather, a human being suffering from multiple-personality disorder. Dr. Jekyll was Dr. Schweitzer compared to this guy. But since you can keep him at arm's length, you can safely enjoy his humor: All pain and all gain. Just don't tell him I recommended his book. I don't think I could stand to see him grinning from ear to ear.