Just to get a base...

I figured I would shy away from more obvious people to start the blog off with and start with Rob McElhenney, creator of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, the funniest show currently on television. For those of you unfamiliar with Sunny, you deserve to have your babies eaten. But I will get to more about what makes the show great in a bit.

McElhenney, born in Philadelphia, spent many years as a struggling actor, first in New York and then in Los Angeles. After years of only getting bit parts (if getting anything at all), he finally wrote a small short film around an idea he had had about one friend telling another friend that he had cancer, and the other friend trying to leave the awkward situation as quickly as possible. McElhenney ended up filming the scene using digital cameras and casting his friends Glenn Howerton and Charlie Day as the main characters. Danny DeVito (who joined the cast in the second season) has claimed that the pilot cost $85, but even this is probably a bit high, as the only true cost was the tapes they filmed it on. One awkward exchange from the scene goes as follows.

Charlie: I mean, I'm glad we can talk. We can talk right?
(pause)
Glenn: Yeah... yeah, I mean... we should talk.
Charlie: It started out like this: First I wasn't feeling well––
Glenn: Oh, I'm sorry, did you mean right now?

The scene impressed executives at several television stations, but McElhenney made several demands. First, he, Charlie, and Glenn needed to be the stars of the show. Second, the three of them would be the shows main writers. Third, the threesome would also be executive producers, and McElhenney would be the show runner. While most networks flat-out turned them down, FX believed in the show and gave it the green light.

The shows name was changed from It's Always Sunny in Hollywood to It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. The show is great for so many reasons, but a reason that has gotten many people's attention is the way the show tends to go outside the lines of what is commonly referred to as "good taste." A personal favorite example of mine is an episode titled, "Dennis and Dee Go on Welfare." Two of the main characters attempt to scam their way into receiving welfare. Dennis (played by Howerton) goes to the front desk of a welfare office with his sister, Dee, and tells the clerk, "Hello, I'm a recovering crackhead, and this is my retarded sister. I'd like some welfare, please." When the characters are forced to coach youth basketball as court-ordered community service, they argue over which team gets the black kids. When Mac and Dee find a dumpster baby, instead of turning the child over to the proper authorities, they attempt to make a profit from their little bundle of joy and make it a star. Unfortunately, all of the baby modeling agencies are looking for ethnic babies, unlike the white one they found. Their solution: take the baby to a tanning salon. "Just to get a base," says Mac.

The show is a great example of television today and what can happen if a network takes itself out of the creative process. While FX did make several good suggestions to the show (they suggested the characters not be actors and that the show not be set in Hollywood), McElhenney, Day, and Howerton are the creative force behind the show. The three are the main writers of the show, and often settle disputes with a simple majority vote. If two of them think it's funny, it goes in the show. The lack of network interference has made the cable show a cult hit. It's hard to believe that the network loves a lot of the risque material that the show handles (the first four episodes made fun of racism, abortion, underage drinking, and cancer), the show takes these topics and somehow makes them funny, and not just from the shock value.