Arrivederci To All That
Michael Ian Black In Exile
Earlier this month I flew to Rome to sit down with American sports hero and CVS evangelist Michael Ian Black at a two-thousand-year-old family-owned trattoria near the Spanish Steps.1 Apart from a subtle limp related to an old football injury, Mr. Ian Black’s Ashkenazi-born New Jersey-bred good looks appeared unchanged from when I last saw him several years ago. That of course, was before the entire world ground to a halt in order to fight a once-in-a-century plague. It was before, under the cover of a starless night, he fled from rural Connecticut where he and his wife, Martha, raised their two children, to the historic district of Savannah.
It was before the months-long siege during which anonymous hackers took his Twitter account hostage forcing him to rely on Instagram for the conveyance of his weekly pizza slice ingestion tally millions of fans had come to rely on. It was before secret negotiations wrested that very same Twitter account from the grip of a masked cyber cabal only to have Grimes’s ex-boyfriend and the father of X Æ A-12 immediately remove Michael Ian’s verified solid blue legacy checkmark upon its rightful return. And it was before perhaps the most shocking development of all, one that may or may not be related to the aforementioned web of criminal intrigue, in which he mysteriously traded fresh peaches, Southern hospitality, and a newly renovated manse for the seemingly quixotic life of an international bon-vivant.
NB: Despite knowing Mr. Ian Black for thirty years I made this transatlantic journey not as a friend but as a reporter, training my journalistic lens on the cryptic machinations of his brilliant but carefully guarded and oft-beleaguered brain.
AG: What’s it like starting over in a new country as a complete loser nobody?
MIB: I’m made in God’s perfect image so I reject the premise of the question.
AG: Phonetically spell mozzarella the way it should be pronounced.
MIB: Muzzarell.
AG: Not Moohtzarell?
MIB: I have no idea. I’ve been avoiding Italian food.
AG: You’ve been in Italy for approximately 6 weeks. According to the Gun Violence Archives, in that period, there have been 74 mass shootings in the United States. How many people have been shot in your new country since you moved there?
MIB: Haven’t been watching the local news but as far as I can tell, somewhere south of 3. Possibly very far south of 3.
AG: If you had to choose between going back to any time in your own life with the ability to make a different choice versus getting aboard a UFO with no return ticket assured, which would you choose?
MIB: UFO, obv. What’s my life compared to being exposed to the grander universe? I AM NOTHING.
AG: Plus you hate your family so win/win.
MIB: I don’t hate them but it’s definitely an “I could take them or leave them” kind of sitch.
AG: What about UFO vs. time travel back to any point in human history but you could come home to now?
MIB: You said “No return ticket assured,” which made me think I possibly could already come back. Which is it, Amanda? What kind of fucking interview is this?
AG: Wow. Just wow. People warned me about you.
MIB: I’m storming out of this interview.
AG: Basta. Prego. Settle down-o.
Let’s lower the stakes a little and talk about siestas. Are you taking them?
MIB: Every day, in every way.
AG: What’s the worst statue you’ve seen so far?
MIB: There’s some old Italian guy I never heard of sitting on a chair and they named a whole piazza for him. I don’t know who he is. Make statues of people I’ve heard of.
AG: As a long-time fan of Donald Juan Trump, what was it like to experience his arrest and indictment on 34 felony charges in a Manhattan courtroom from the vantage point of a foreign land, one which recently elected its own fascist-leaning prime minister?
MIB: He’s never appeared more presidential, more in control, more confident, more handsome. They want to nail him to a cross like Jesus but it won’t work because he’s better than Jesus. He’s like Super Jesus.
AG: Speaking of Super Jesus do you ever miss your old life as a 9-year member of the NFL during which time you led your team to two Super Bowl championships—or as I believe they call them in Italy, World Cups?
MIB: I get this question a lot. I played 9 years in the NFL. Won 2 rings. #9years2rings. I miss being with the guys, the competition, the feeling of coming together as a unit to achieve a shared goal. But I definitely DON’T miss waking up not sure if I would be able to get out of bed, the insane workload, the grind of a long season. I left it all out there on the field. No regrets and no desire to go back.
AG: Can you talk a little bit about transitioning from the grueling physical demands of that life to the genteel intellectual pursuits of an acclaimed children’s book author?
MIB: Just following in the footsteps of the late, great Rosie Greer who taught a generation of kids that it’s alright to cry.
AG: Michael, it occurs to me that we’re both members of the Free To Be Generation.
MIB: It’s true. Some say it’s the greatest generation. Not sure who, but some?
AG: I think Soleil Moon Frye would say it. I also think Donald Faison would say it. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson might say it, but not in so many words. I don’t think Alanis Morrisette would say it, which is ironic.
Anyway, one time at the end of the last millennium, in a fit of nostalgia, I bought the Free To Be You And Me album on CD and listened to it during what turned out to be — let’s call it a romantic afternoon — with my then-boyfriend. As the kids say, it hit different.
MIB: Sounds vaguely pedophiliac.
AG: You would know, Q. Speaking of romance and conspiracy theories, you’ve been married to your wife Martha for over 40 years now. Any tips for my readers on how to find lasting love and keep things spicy in the boudoir?
MIB: We have NOT been married for 40 years. I’m only 32 years old. Advice on keeping things spicy in the bedroom? Don’t. Don’t even try.
AG: I know you’re only 32 but what advice would you give your 45-year-old self?
MIB: Don’t buy the Tesla
AG: Did you really buy a Tesla?
MIB: You bet I did.
AG: Exactly how rich are you?
MIB: Not rich enough to buy a Tesla. Should’ve gone with the used Ford Escort.
AG: Let’s be serious for a moment: What is your most rational fear?
MIB: Do we really have to be serious?
AG: Just for a moment.
MIB: I have many fears but I’m not sure any of them are particularly rational.
AG: Huh.
MIB: Poverty is my most persistent fear.
AG: Not becoming decrepit?
MIB: I mean, sure, but I’m not really afraid of decrepitude unless it’s accompanied by poverty.
AG: You say poverty is your most persistent fear yet you’re a touring comedian with a very loyal American audience who picked up and moved to Europe. Talk to me about that.
MIB: I tour to ease the poverty anxiety
AG: What I’m saying is they probably won’t understand your jokes in Italy on account of them being told in your native English.
MIB: But they understand my humanity, and that’s what matters.
AG: You have two wonderful kids, both of whom have recently flown the proverbial coop. Which one do you prefer?
MIB: Varies by the week.
AG: I get it. We don’t need to tell them it’s Ruthie.
MIB: It is Ruthie.
AG: Do you have any concerns that flashing this jet-setty nouveau European lifestyle all over your ‘socials’ makes you vulnerable to a Kim Kardashian-like robbery?
MIB: We hired some of the Wagner Group to guard us.
(Editor’s Note: The Wagner Group is a network of mercenaries loosely understood to be the de facto private army of Russian President Vladimir Putin.)
AG: Speaking of Kim, how’s your journey on Ozempic been?
MIB: Down to 85 lbs!!!
AG: You’re halfway there! Keep up the amazing work.
MIB: 🙏🏻
AG: What are you reading these days?
MIB: Edge of Eternity, by Ken Follett who is truly my very favorite terrible writer.
AG: I guess he’s probably not going to subscribe to my Substack now.
MIB: He will if he wants to read what I said about him.
(Editor’s Note: At the time of publication, Mr. Follet was not a subscriber to Everything Is A Wave. Mr. Ian Black became a subscriber after I repeatedly berated him, but only to the free version which means he won’t be able to read the majority of this interview.)
AG: In 2020 you published an important book that was a bit of a departure for you, called A Better Man: A Mostly Serious Letter to My Son. In it you attempted to unpack the profound identity crisis so many American boys and young men seem to face, looking at how the confluence of fragile mental health, confusing messages about masculinity, and the most psychotic number of unregulated firearms per capita compared to anywhere else on the planet Earth seems to so often lead to traumatic outcomes. How would you say that’s all going three years later?
MIB: Not great, Amanda. Not great. Nor did I expect anything different.
AG: If you were a vegetable what vegetable would you be? Essence not preference.
MIB: Probably escarole - not everybody’s taste but kind of fancy.
AG: WOW. Really...unexpected.
MIB: What did you expect? It has to be escarole.
AG: I expected squash blossoms and also I AM ASKING THE QUESTIONS HERE.
If you had to live any year of your life over and over in perpetuity, which one would it be?
MIB: Do I know I’m living it over and over?
AG: No?
MIB: I think next year.
AG: Irritating. If you were a dog what breed of dog would you be?
MIB: Can I be a specific dog or does it have to be a breed?
(Editor’s note: Off the record but with my fingers crossed behind my back I asked Mr. Ian Black if he missed his own dog, Oli, who did not accompany him abroad. Without hesitation, he said no.)
AG: Breed. Again, essence not preference
MIB: Newfoundland - not because I’m at all like them but because I would LIKE to be like them.
AG: That’s not the correct way to answer the question, Michael.
MIB: Why can’t I express a desire to be different than I am?
AG: I am trying to get at your essence.
MIB: My essence is some surly mutt.
AG: I only half-agree.
MIB: Didn’t ask.
AG: I think you’re a lovable mutt who’s only surly on occasion, like when you’re scared.
MIB: Didn’t know you were going to editorialize within the interview.
AG: You’ve taken a tone.
MIB: Surly?
AG: I’m thinking this interview might have to be in three parts.
MIB: Beginning, middle, and end?
AG: I don’t know if you realize this but the attention economy is not on the side of long-form journalism.
MIB: Thank you for the insight.
AG: Regardless of your defensive sarcasm and general petulance, both of which you know perfectly well are among my top five personal aphrodisiacs, I believe this is going to be the greatest interview ever published.
MIB: “Published."
AG: FUCK YOU. MANY IMPORTANT WRITERS ARE ON SUBSTACK.
MIB: And also you.
AG: Michael, let’s cut to the chase. Do they have CVS in Italy?
MIB: I wish.
AG: Do the farmacias give you any type of coupons at all??
MIB: They don’t give you shit.
AG: Have you considered referring to this time as your Michael Ian Sabblacktical?
MIB: I hadn’t considered that.
AG: Last question: Is Biden going to be re-elected?
MIB: Probably not.
AG: Really?
MIB: How the hell should I know? I won’t be living in America when it happens.
This conversation has been lightly edited for neither length nor clarity but because when it started I didn’t have shingles, and now I do.
In between watching episodes of The Diplomat and playing online poker, my questions were begrudgingly answered via text message by way of a cellular telephone.
Love!!! But he didn’t take the dog???🤯