So Right, So Long.


I learned about Kevin Meaney from Dr. Katz Professional Therapist where he was a “patient” so it’s fittingly ironic that I would learn about his passing from a bona fide therapist, the amazing Ann Koplow, who mentioned Meaney’s sudden loss on her blog The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally. She’s also a regular visitor her which tickles me because she’s been lucky enough to know and work with some amazingly funny people, but that’s another story.

For many comedians of Kevin Meaney’s generation–he was born April 23rd, 1956–there was a distinct career trajectory: develop six good minutes of material, do Carson (later Letterman), get a sitcom. Movies and more fame would inevitably follow, but the idea seemed to be to get off the stage, out of the small dark clubs.

Was that Meaney’s ambition? Maybe. On his album That’s Not Right–which I was very lucky to find a copy of a few years ago in a music store–he impersonates his wife and mother, imagining both of them responding to some of his jokes with “That’s not right!” and his wife worrying that some of his jokes will alienate so many people “We’re going to lose the house!” He also talks about his hilarious and edgy Aunt Rose who I think was his inspiration for going into comedy. It seems like the stuff of a sitcom, but I prefer to think Meaney didn’t want to go that route. I hope he enjoyed working the clubs, alternately winning and alienating audiences.

He did briefly play the lead on the sitcom Uncle Buck which was panned and quickly canceled as well as working for several TV shows. He also did a really funny promo for Comedy Central, impersonating his mother saying, “Why do you have to do commercials for Comedy Central? Your brothers don’t do commercials for Comedy Central!” The promo ended with the tagline, “We’ve got every comedian and their mother.”

He also had a complicated personal life, openly admitting he was gay after he and his wife had been married for ten years and had a daughter.

I used to have That’s Not Right loaded on my iPhone and it would tickle me to play music on shuffle, to go from a song to Kevin Meaney yelling “I’m a dirty boy!” During some upgrade it slipped off and it’s been too long since I listened to it.

That’s not right.

Hail and farewell, Kevin Meaney.


Facebook Comments


  1. Ann Koplow

    I guess we’re all big pants people, Chris. Big thanks to you for this so-right post.

  2. Ann Koplow

    Also, Chris, it’s fittingly ironic that I learned abut Kevin’s passing from Ron Lynch, “one of the amazingly funny people” I’ve been lucky enough to know, who also include you.

    1. Christopher Waldrop (Post author)

      I can’t tell you how much that means to me–especially since Ron Lynch was one of those amazingly funny people I had in mind, and also, fittingly, someone whom I first learned about from Dr. Katz.

  3. Chuck Baudelaire

    He always made me laugh. “You’re like a crazy person” was part of my personal repertoire of snappy comebacks for years. He should have been more famous than he was, but as you said, maybe he liked where he was. RIP.

    1. Christopher Waldrop (Post author)

      I used to drive my coworkers crazy impersonating him. That’s a tradition I may have to resume in his honor. Maybe this time around they’ll want to know who he was.

  4. Mila

    Comedians are the greatest people, in my opinion. They take the most complex subjects and break it down for public, in a way they listen, and laugh to. They’re also usually most tormented souls. The irony.
    RIP, Kevin Meaney.

    1. Christopher Waldrop (Post author)

      Yes, they are too often the most tormented souls. I don’t want to get overly psychoanalytical but every time I listen to Kevin Meaney he sounds like a guy who desperately wanted to be loved but felt he wasn’t worthy of love. And that’s a shame because he also seemed to be a really nice guy.


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