I'm worried about Jon Stewart. Now, truth be told, I haven't been watching him that long. I was a latecomer to the genius of The Daily Show, but soon grew very fond of Stewart's wry delivery and hilarious facial contortions. As little time as I've spent with the man, I've noticed a marked difference in him in the last several months. A little more grey in his tousled mane. A little more drawn in the facial region. A little saggy in the sassafras. He's starting to remind me of Bush, Sr. in his second run for office--like his heart just isn't in it anymore.
The ennui is especially noticeable when he does his passing of the baton to Stephen Colbert in their nightly between-show banter. Jon Stewart literally pales in comparison next to rodeo-horse-ready Colbert. It's like watching the old family dog being given the jumping bean treatment by a slathering, wound-up puppy.
As much as I love and admire Colbert's razor sharp schtick, it's sad to see his old boss, the golden boy of sarcasm yore, get all tarnished and tired. Even Colbert's writers seem more revved and revelant, earning more and louder laughter from me than their storied lead-in--a show that stooped to make fun of Stephen Hawking's powers of flirtation the other night. A little too Leno-esque, if you ask me. Ah, well. If nothing ever changed, we'd all be left in the same underwear.
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