Welcome to The Deep Dive. Today, well, we're
tackling a career that's just full of contradictions,
maybe one of the most complicated in modern comedy.
We're looking at Louis C .K., Louis Alfred Seigle.
And our mission really is to take all these sources,
we've got bios, reports, analysis, and just try
to unpack his journey. Yeah, it's a big one.
How did he go from this kind of surprising background
as a writer to becoming this major industry disruptor?
We need to chart the highs, the creative peaks.
And the crash, definitely. Yeah. A huge professional
fallout. And then the comeback, which is a whole
story in itself. Right. And before we even get
into the timeline, I think it's crucial we just
lay out the sheer scale of his success before
everything changed around 2017. You have to understand
the foundation. Okay. I mean, just looking at
the facts, the sources pile it up. Six Emmy Awards,
three Grammys, three Peabody Awards. That's...
That's serious recognition. Yeah, those aren't
lightweight awards. Not at all. And then you've
got Time Magazine in 2012 listing him as one
of the 100 most influential people. And Rolling
Stone, just in 2017, right before the fall, ranked
him number four, fourth, on their list of the
50 best stand -up comics of all time. Wow. Number
four. That's incredibly high praise. It really
speaks to how respected he was across the board,
writing, performing, directing. Exactly. Deep
industry respect. Yeah. The question we're digging
into isn't just what he achieved, but really
how. How did he build this career that gave him
so much power, so much independence, enough to
become this pioneer in content distribution?
Totally redefining. And then how did that same
independence become the very thing that allowed
him to keep working after the mainstream industry
just completely cut him off? It's fascinating,
isn't it? It's like a case study in building
your own platform, often out of... you know,
frustration with the old ways. So we're tracking
the rise, the dramatic fall, and this really,
really unusual rebuilding of a whole creative
world. Okay, so let's dive into the beginnings.
We all have this image, right? The sort of grumpy,
divorced, white Boston comic. The persona. But
his actual background, it's way more layered,
way more international than you'd think. He was
born in Washington, D .C., 1967. Yeah, the heritage
itself is really interesting. It kind of goes
against that simple image. His father, Louis
Sickley. was an economist. Okay. And his background
was Mexican and Hungarian Jewish. His own father,
C .K.'s grandfather, Giza Sekli -Schweiger, was
actually a Hungarian Jew who moved to Mexico.
Wow. Okay. So Mexico is a big part of the story
early on. A huge part. That grandfather married
a Mexican woman, Rosario Sanchez Morales, and
they raised their kids, including C .K.'s father.
as Catholics in Mexico. And his mother. His mother,
Mary Louise Davis. She was American, Catholic,
and of Irish descent. So you've got this real
mix. Hungarian, Jewish, Mexican, Irish, Catholic,
all feeding into one person. Right. But the detail
that really stands out, the one that maybe hints
at that feeling of being an outsider later, it's
the language. He didn't start with English? Nope.
His first language was Spanish. The family moved
to Mexico City right after he was born, stayed
there until he was about seven. So he spent his
really formative early years entirely in a Spanish
-speaking culture. Exactly. He only started learning
English when they moved back to the U .S., settling
outside Boston, first Framingham, then Newton,
Massachusetts. That's a major shift for a kid,
culturally, linguistically. Huge. And then his
parents divorced when he was 10. He was raised
Catholic, mostly by his mom, in that very suburban
New England setting. It's quite a journey just
to get to adolescence. You can see how that might
shape a certain perspective. He always felt a
bit like an outsider looking in. Definitely seems
plausible. Yeah. Now, his influences, he points
to the greats, you know, George Carlin, Bill
Cosby, Richard Pryor, standard for comics of
his generation. Sure. But his initial reason
for wanting to get into TV wasn't like this burning
artistic desire. It was much more grounded. What
was it? He said it came from watching his mom.
She'd come home tired from work and just watch
these, quote, Bad TV shows. Oh, okay. And he
thought, I want to make something better than
that for people like her to watch. Almost a practical
goal. Interesting. And his early steps into the
industry weren't just about comedy performance.
They were very hands -on, very technical. That
seems really important. It's absolutely pivotal
for what comes later. After high school, fun
fact, Matt LeBlanc was a classmate. Joey Tribbiani,
no way. Yep. So after high school, C .K. worked
as an auto mechanic. But crucially, he also worked
at a public access TV station in Boston. Ah,
public access. The great equalizer. Exactly.
And that's where he learned the nuts and bolts.
Cameras, editing, making stuff on basically no
budget. He got the technical chops that he later
used to direct and edit pretty much everything
himself. Short films, his TV shows. All of it.
He even said something like, learning is my favorite
thing. Yeah. That technical grounding was absolutely
key. But getting on stage doing stand -up, that
wasn't smooth sailing at first. Oh, not at all.
Yeah. His first try was in 1985. He was 17, open
mic in Boston. Total disaster. He apparently
ran out of material halfway through his five
-minute set. Just froze. Yeah. It discouraged
him so much he didn't perform again for two whole
years. He found his feet much more quickly as
a writer. Right. So he moves to Manhattan in
1989, and that's when things start. clicking
on the writing side. Yeah, he starts getting
into the writers' rooms. He lands a job on Late
Night with Conan O 'Brien, 93 to 94, then a brief
stint at Letterman's Late Show in 95. Those are
big launching pads. Huge. And the Conan job.
The sources say it was more than just a break,
it was a lifeline. How so? He was apparently
so broke and discouraged right before he got
the call, he was literally planning to quit comedy
altogether, move back home. The very next day,
Conan's show hired him. Wow. Talk about timing.
That one phone call changed everything. Completely
altered his path. Kept him in the game. Then
he was up to head writer on The Dana Carvey Show
in 96. That show's legendary now, but not for
its ratings. Huh. Definitely not. It got canceled
super fast, like seven episodes. But the writing
staff. Unbelievable. Who else was in there? You
had Steve Carell, Stephen Colbert, Robert Smigel,
Charlie Kaufman. I mean, just a murderer's row
of comedy talent. An incredible incubator, even
if it failed commercially. It shows he was operating
at a really high level in sketch comedy. Absolutely.
And then came the Chris Rock show from 97 to
99. That's where he really cemented his reputation
as a top writer. And got some hardware for it
too, right? That's right. His first Emmy win
came from that show. Best writing in a variety
or comedy series. 1999. So by the end of the
90s, he's established he's an Emmy winning writer.
But still mostly behind the scenes. Exactly.
The next logical step, especially for someone
with his background and ambition, was to take
charge. To direct, to star, to control the whole
thing. Right. That desire for control. Maybe
it goes back to those public access days, knowing
how to do it all yourself. It pushed him straight
into filmmaking. He wrote and directed an indie
film, Black and White, called Tomorrow Night,
premiered at Sundance in 98. Did it go anywhere?
Commercially. No, not really. But it's interesting.
Years later, in 2014, he actually self -released
it through his website, showing that early instinct
to control his own work, his own distribution.
And that instinct clashed hard with the studio
system pretty quickly, didn't it? With Pootie
Tang. Oh, spectacularly. Pootie Tang, 2001. Adapted
from a sketch on Chris Rock's show. He wrote
it, directed it. This was supposed to be his
big studio shot. But it famously went sideways.
Completely. The studio fired him near the end
of filming. They took the footage, re -edited
it heavily. He barely recognized the final product.
And the reviews were brutal. Vicious. Roger Ebert
called it a train wreck, said it wasn't even
releasable. Just absolutely savaged. Wow. Even
though it's kind of a cult thing now. It is now,
yeah. But back then, for him, that experience
of having his vision completely taken away and
butchered. You can imagine how formative that
was. Yeah, you can totally see why he'd spend
the next decade trying to avoid that system entirely.
Precisely. And that's where things get really
groundbreaking. He didn't just, you know, sulk
or go back to only doing stand -up. He channeled
that frustration into basically inventing a new
business model. The direct -to -fan approach.
Exactly. This is probably his biggest, least
controversial legacy in the industry. He started
early, like we said, releasing his first album.
live in Houston, on his site in 2001. Okay, so
the seed was planted early. But it really bloomed,
really became a strategy about 10 years later,
2011, the special live at the Beacon Theater.
Okay, break that down. Why was that release such
a big deal? It wasn't just selling something
online. No, it was a statement, a philosophical
choice. He released the full hour special directly
on his website, Price Point. Five dollars. Just
five bucks. Just five bucks. And critically,
absolutely critically, DRM free. Meaning? No
digital rights management. You download it. You
own it. Yeah. Copy it to your phone, your laptop,
burn it to a disc, whatever. No restrictions.
Which was pretty radical back then with piracy
being such a huge concern. What was his thinking?
He talked about it openly. He wanted to make
buying it easier and cheaper than stealing it.
Right. Close the gap. Exactly. Back then, torrenting
was easy, but buying legally often meant dealing
with clunky platforms, high prices, restrictions.
He figured if he made the purchase super simple,
super cheap, and totally restriction -free, people
would just pay. Make the legal way the path of
least resistance. And did it work? Financially?
Did ever. It was a massive success. That special
pulled in over a million dollars directly from
his website in just a couple of weeks. December
2011. Wow. A million bucks on a $5 download.
Yeah. It proved you could completely bypass the
cable networks, the DVD distributors, all the
traditional gatekeepers, and still make serious
money with high -quality content. And he didn't
just pocket it all, right? There was a charitable
aspect, too. That was part of the whole package,
part of the narrative. He publicly gave away
about half the profits split between his staff
who worked on it and several charities, like
the Fistula Foundation and Kiva. So the low price,
the DRM free model, the transparency, the charity,
it created this template. Totally. And other
big comics noticed immediately. Jim Gaffigan,
Joe Rogan, Aziz Ansari. They all started doing
similar direct -to -consumer releases pretty
quickly after that. It fundamentally shifted
power towards the artists. Okay, so that's the
digital innovation track. But before that really
took off, he did try a more traditional TV route
again after the indie film stuff, right? Lucky
Louie. Yeah, 2006 on HBO. Lucky Louie. That was
an interesting experiment in itself. Oh, so?
It was HBO's first sitcom shot in the old school
multi -camera style in front of a live studio
audience. Very different for HBO. It was meant
to be this really blunt, kind of raw look at
working class family life. Did it work for HBO?
Not really. It only lasted one season, got canceled.
It sort of reinforced this idea that maybe his
specific vision needed even more freedom than
Premium Cable was willing to give at that point.
This period also had significant personal changes
for him, the divorce. Right. He and artist Alex
Bailey divorced in 2008. They share custody of
their two daughters. And he talked about how
that impacted his comedy. Yeah, he was pretty
open about it. Said his marriage had been such
a huge part of his act for so long, it took him
like a full year to figure out what his new material
was, what his post -divorce voice sounded like
on stage. That makes sense. A big life shift
like that changes your perspective. But right
around that time, as he's sort of figuring out
his new act, something huge happens that pushes
his stand -up career into a different stratosphere.
The viral moment. The viral moment. His 2008
appearance on Conan O 'Brien, the... Everything's
amazing and nobody is happy bit. Oh, yeah, I
remember that. It was everywhere. It completely
exploded online in 2009. YouTube, blogs, everywhere.
It made him a household name way beyond just
comedy nerds or people who knew him from writer's
rooms. It perfectly set the stage for his next
big move, the one where he got total control.
And that next big move was Louis, 2010, on FX.
This feels like the moment where everything clicks
into place for him. It really does. Yeah. All
those threads we talk about, the technical skills
from public access, the writing chops from late
night, the ambition, maybe the frustration from
the film attempts, it all came together. And
FX gave him the keys to the kingdom, basically.
Pretty much. The deal was legendary for the amount
of control he got. FX gave him a relatively small
budget, but in return, they offered minimal interference.
He was the star, the writer. the director, and
the editor on almost every single episode. That's
unheard of, especially back then. Totally. And
the show itself reflected that freedom. It was
semi -autobiographical, blending these really
cinematic, sometimes surreal vignettes about
his life as a divorced dad in New York with clips
of his actual stand -up routines. Critics loved
it, right? They treated it more like indie film
than a typical sitcom. What made it feel so different?
It was the style, the tone. It wasn't afraid
to be awkward or depressing or just weird. It
used animation sometimes, dream sequences. The
pacing could be really slow, really observational.
It broke a lot of sitcom rules. More interested
in mood and character than set -up punchline.
Exactly. It felt deeply personal, very auteur
-driven, and often really uncomfortable, but
funny in that discomfort. And the awards followed
that critical acclaim. Oh, yeah. The Emmys in
particular. He got nominated five times for lead
actor. Didn't win that, but he did win twice.
for outstanding writing for a comedy series.
Which episodes? First for Pregnant in season
two, and then really significantly for So Did
the Fat Lady in season three. That episode got
a ton of attention. Right. That one was really
praised for tackling body image and dating in
a way that felt brutally honest. Critics really
pointed to specific episodes or arcs as examples
of the show pushing boundaries. Like what? Season
three was often seen as a peak. There was a whole
storyline with Parker Posey playing this kind
of unstable bookshop clerk he dates. It was tense
and funny and sad all at once. I remember that
arc. Then there was the multi -episode thing
where he sort of imagines himself potentially
taking over Letterman's show, blurring reality
and fiction. Yeah. And the New Year's Eve episode
from that season, people called it audacious,
playing with dream logic. It just showed how
willing the show was to get experimental, to
break form. After season three, though. He took
a pretty long break from the show. Yeah, about
19 months off. He wanted to focus on other things,
especially film roles, which shows you how much
his profile had grown. He was getting pulled
back towards the mainstream movie world. Oh,
kind of roles was he getting? Pretty high -profile
stuff, critically acclaimed films. He was in
Woody Allen's Blue Jasmine, David O. Russell's
American Hustle in 2013. American Hustle won
awards, right? Yeah, the cast won the Screen
Actors Guild Award for Outstanding Ensemble.
So he shared in that. He was also in Trumbo in
2015, showing he can navigate both worlds, his
very personal indie TV work and these big Hollywood
movies. But then he did something completely
unexpected, even for him, Horace and Pete. Ah,
yes. 2016. This was something else entirely.
He self -funded it, released it directly on his
website with absolutely zero warning or promotion,
just dropped it. And it wasn't a comedy special.
It wasn't like Louie. What was it? It was basically
a filmed play, a tragic comic drama set in this
decaying, generations -old Brooklyn bar. He starred
alongside some serious dramatic actors, Steve
Buscemi, Edie Falco, Alan Alda. Jessica Lange.
Wow, that's a heavy -hitting cast for a web series
he just put online. Exactly. And the tone was
heavy, too. Critics were kind of stunned trying
to figure out what to even call it. What was
the consensus? James Poniewozik at the time said
that great line. It was like a Cheers spec script
written by Eugene O 'Neill. Ah, that captures
it. Dark. Very dark. Deeply melancholic. It dealt
with mental illness, family secrets, alcoholism.
But with these moments of bleak humor. People
praised the writing. The acting was phenomenal.
It's often pointed to as a key example, maybe
even the pioneer of the sad -com comedy structure,
but with profound, dramatic, often tragic weight.
Again, total control. No network notes, no marketing
plan, just pure artistic vision straight to the
audience. The ultimate expression of his independent
model. And at the same time, he was still working
within the system at FX, but as a producer, a
creator. Right. He co -created Baskets with Zach
Galifianakis. And Better Things with Pamela Adlon.
He co -wrote and directed the pilot for Better
Things, which got a lot of acclaim itself. So
he's got his fingers in all these pies. High
art indie drama, successful cable comedies he's
producing. And then. just to make it even more
surprising, massive mainstream commercial success.
How? Voice hacking. In 2016, he voiced the main
character, Max the dog, in the animated movie,
The Secret Life of Pets. Oh, right. That movie
was huge. 2GE. Made something like $875 million
worldwide. Absolute blockbuster. Okay, so let's
pause and take stock of where he is in, say,
mid -2016. It's kind of staggering. He's self
-releasing, groundbreaking, high art drama online.
He's co -creating hit shows on FX. He's acting
in Oscar -nominated movies. He's the lead voice
in a global animated smash hit. And he's still
doing stand -up at the highest level. He sold
out Madison Square Garden three times on a single
tour in 2015. First comedian ever to do that.
Plus, he won two Grammys for his stand -up albums
during this period, hilarious and live at Madison
Square Garden. Right. It's hard to overstate
the breadth and depth of his success and influence
at that moment. He seemed to have cracked the
code, complete creative autonomy, leading to
both critical adoration and massive commercial
appeal. He was the exception. The absolute pick.
But, as the sources indicate, even at this height,
there were whispers, rumors starting to surface
more publicly about his behavior behind the scenes.
The storm clouds were gathering, even if the
Empire looked untouchable. OK, so let's move
into that turning point, 2017. And as you said,
the sources show these weren't sudden out of
the blue accusations. Rumors have been swirling
for years. Yeah, within the comedy world, definitely.
People like Roseanne Barr had mentioned things
publicly way back. Tig Notaro was quite vocal
about it, especially leading into 2017. What
did Notaro say? She publicly distanced herself
from him, urged him to address the rumors of
misconduct that just wouldn't go away. There
was definitely a sense of something being known
or at least heavily suspected within the industry.
And right before it all broke, he had another
film project. I Love You, Daddy. Yes. A black
and white film he directed and starred in. Shot
on 35mm, very old school. It premiered at the
Toronto Film Festival in September 2017. But
even then, the issue was present. Oh yeah. He
was asked about the rumors directly in a New
York Times interview around the festival time.
And he denied them. Called them rumors. Said
it wasn't productive to talk about them in the
press. So a public denial just weeks before.
Before the dam broke. November 9, 2017. The New
York Times published their big investigative
piece. And what did it detail? Allegations from
five women about sexual misconduct. The most
prominent were comedians Dana Min Goodman and
Julia Woloff, who described him masturbating
in front of them in his hotel room after a festival
in 2002. Rebecca Corey said he asked if he could
do the same in front of her on a TV set in 2005.
She refused. Another woman, Abby Shockner, alleged
he did it while they were on a phone call. It
was specific, named, and corroborated. And the
reaction was immediate. Instantaneous and devastating.
Within hours, everything started to crumble.
He released a statement pretty quickly. What
did his statement say? Crucially, he admitted
it. He said, these stories are true. He acknowledged
the power imbalance, saying he wielded that power
irresponsibly. He included that line about thinking
it was okay because he never showed a woman my
dick without asking first, but then admitted
that wasn't okay at all given the power dynamic.
He said he'd step back and listen. But the industry
didn't wait for him to step back. They acted
decisively. Totally. It wasn't just a slap on
the wrist. It was complete and utter professional
exile. FX, his home base for Louis, Baskets,
Better Things, cut all ties immediately. Done.
Netflix. Canceled an upcoming special they had
planned with him. And they pull all his existing
stuff off their platform. Gone. Ichio, too. Same
thing. Pulled all his specials. Pulled Lucky
Louis. Canceled an appearance he was supposed
to make on an upcoming benefit show. Wiped clean.
So the platforms just erased him. What about
the projects he had in the works? I love you,
Daddy. The film that just premiered, its distributor,
The Orchard, canceled the release entirely. Just
shelved it. Wow. TBS had an animated series he
co -created called The Cops. They suspended production,
then scrapped it completely. Even past work was
affected, like the voice acting. Yeah, they went
back and removed him. He was replaced as the
voice of Max in The Secret Life of Pets 2. His
voice cameo was even removed from reruns of the
Disney show Gravity Falls. It was a systematic
removal. The industry was sending a very clear
message. Unambiguous. Persona non grata. And
the financial hit was enormous. Did he ever put
a number on it? He later said, according to sources,
that the immediate fallout cost him something
like $35 million in lost income. Canceled deals,
scrapped projects, future earnings just gone
overnight. $35 million. That really quantifies
the value he commanded at his peak and the totality
of the cancellation by the traditional industry.
That door slammed shut. Hard. Irrevocably closed.
The mainstream path was gone. So the mainstream
industry shuts him out completely. But as we
discussed, he had built this other thing, this
direct line to an audience. That independent
infrastructure he'd been building for years.
And he didn't stay away for that long, did he?
When did he first reappear? Less than a year
later, August 2018. He did an unannounced drop
-in set at the Comedy Cellar in New York. Just
showed up? Just showed up. did about 15 minutes
of his usual kind of material, didn't address
the controversy directly on stage, and reportedly
got a standing ovation from the crowd there.
An ovation. Wow. That must have immediately sparked
debate. Oh, instantly. It became this huge flashpoint.
You had comedians like Judd Apatow, a part of
Nantrila, saying it was way too soon, that he
hadn't shown enough remorse, hadn't done the
work. And on the other side. You had some really
big names. Dave Chappelle. Chris Rock, Sarah
Silverman, even Jim Gaffigan, basically defending
his right to perform stand -up again, making
a distinction between performing on stage and,
say, getting a TV deal, arguing the audience
could decide. It really split the community.
Deeply. Jerry Seinfeld had an interesting take
on it later. What did Seinfeld say? He suggested
the public, or parts of the public, felt CK hadn't
performed the expected ritual of contrition.
that after such a big public tumble, people want
to see the grovel, as Seinfeld put it. And C
.K. sort of skipped that step by just going back
to telling jokes, denied them that narrative
arc. Interesting perspective, but his return
wasn't smooth. There was controversy about the
new material almost immediately, right? Yeah,
that December 2018, someone secretly recorded
a set he did on Long Island and leaked it online.
And the jokes caused problems? Big problems.
The leaked audio included jokes about the Parkland
school shooting survivors, about non -binary
people. Really provocative stuff that sparked
immediate outrage and wall -to -wall negative
press. So how did he respond to that leak, that
scrutiny? He doubled down on controlling the
environment. That's when the Yondra pouches became
standard at his shows. Those pouches where you
have to lock up your phone. Exactly. Audience
members have to put their phones and any recording
devices into these locked pouches before entering
the venue. You keep the pouch, but you can't
access your phone until you leave and get it
unlocked. So it wasn't just about protecting
his jokes from being stolen. No, it seemed more
about preventing hostile leaks, preventing jokes
from being taken out of context and weaponized
online or in the media. It was about ensuring
the performance only existed in that room, between
him and the paying audience, creating a sealed
environment. A fortress around the direct transaction.
And other comedians started using them, too.
Yeah, it became much more common after that,
especially for big names doing potentially controversial
material. Chappelle uses them. John Mulaney has.
CK certainly helped popularize it out of necessity.
Then came the definitive signal he was fully
embracing the independent path again. Releasing
a new special himself. Yep. January 2020. Sincerely,
Louis CK. Dropped it on his website. $5. DRM
free. Just like the old days. No advance warning.
No traditional promotion. And that special actually
got major recognition, didn't it? Despite everything.
It did. In 2022, it won the Grammy Award for
Best Comedy Album. Wow, a Grammy. So the Recording
Academy voters gave him that validation, even
if the Emmys or the film industry wouldn't touch
him. Exactly. It showed that his independent
ecosystem could still yield the highest industry
awards in certain fields, completely bypassing
the gatekeepers who had exiled him. What was
the general reaction to the special itself, the
content? Still divisive, as you'd expect. Some
critics acknowledged parts were funny. but wrestled
with the context. Amy Schumer's comments were
interesting. She said she laughed a lot, but
found it hard not to think about his past actions,
questioned if he'd really changed or learned
anything. The ethical shadow remained. And he
kept releasing specials this way. Yeah, he followed
it up with Sorry in 2021, and then Back to the
Garden in 2023. That last one was recorded at
a sold -out Madison Square Garden show. So he's
still filling arenas, even operating completely
outside the mainstream system. Seems so. The
direct audience connection is still strong enough
for that. He also went back to filmmaking on
his own terms. Right. Fourth of July, 2022. Co
-wrote and directed that comedy drama. And the
way he promoted it was the final piece of the
puzzle, really showing his complete break from
the old ways. How did he promote it? No talk
shows. Zero traditional media. No late night
appearances. No morning shows. No newspaper interviews.
Instead, he went exclusively to big podcasts.
Like Joe Rogan. Exactly. He did long -form interviews
on the Joe Rogan experience, Your Mom's House,
with Tom Segura and Christina Positsky, platforms
with huge, dedicated audiences where he could
have unfiltered conversations, bypass journalists
entirely. It solidified his move into this parallel
media universe, relying entirely on that direct,
often digitally mediated relationship. Completely.
The new model, born of necessity, but built on
the foundation he'd laid years before. Okay,
just to round out the picture, let's touch briefly
on his stated personal views, his philosophy,
politics, which seem, maybe unsurprisingly, resistant
to easy labels. Yeah, that fits the pattern.
Politically, he's expressed a real skepticism
about anyone who fits neatly into one ideological
box. What did he put it? He said he's very suspicious
of people who fall into one category for everything.
He thinks some issues need a conservative approach,
others need a liberal one. He values that kind
of independent thinking over strict party lines.
But he has commented very strongly on specific
figures, notably Donald Trump. Oh, unequivocally.
During the 2016 election, he sent out this widely
publicized email to his fan list. What did it
say? He compared Trump to Adolf Hitler, called
him an insane bigot, a sad man, really strong
language. Did he stand by the Hitler comparison?
He later walked that specific comparison back,
calling it maybe irrational hyperbole. But he
didn't walk back his overall assessment. In 2017
on Colbert's show, he clarified his view of Trump
as, and this is a direct quote, a gross, crook,
dirty, rotten, lying sack of shit. OK, so pretty
clear where he stood there, despite the aversion
to labels. Very clear. And his voting record
seems to back that up, generally leaning left.
Oh, so. Sources say he voted for the Democratic
presidential candidate consistently in 2004,
08, 12 and 16. He did donate to Joe Biden's campaign
in 2020 about twenty eight hundred dollars. But.
But the Biden campaign later stated that they
refunded the donation. Interesting. OK. And outside
of politics, relationships, religion. Well. He
was married to Alex Bailey from 95 to 2008. He
dated the musician Fiona Apple for a while. And
more recently, he confirmed he was dating French
comedian Blanche Garden in 2018. Are they still
together? Reports indicate they had broken up
by August 2022. And religion. Raised Catholic,
but now... Now identifies as agnostic. Okay.
So let's try to wrap this all up. We followed
this incredible arc, the surprising international
childhood, Spanish as a first language, the early
technical skills that proved so vital, the move
from being a top tier writer behind the scenes
to wanting control, the difficult Pootie Tang
experience pushing him towards independence.
Then pioneering that direct -to -consumer model.
that really did change the game for comedians.
Reaching that absolute creative peak with Louis,
experimenting with Horace and Pete, achieving
massive mainstream success simultaneously. And
then the crash. The 2017 allegations, the admission,
the total industry exile, costing him... By his
own account, tens of millions of dollars. It
really is a story of extremes. Extreme success,
extreme failure, extreme independence. That's
the core of it, I think. The contradiction. He
gets the highest honors from the mainstream Emmys.
Recognition then gets completely cast out by
those same gatekeepers. But his survival, his
ability to still work. To fill Madison Square
Garden again, to win another Grammy after being
canceled. It rests almost entirely on that independent
pathway he built. The website, the direct sales
model, the podcast circuit. It became his lifeboat,
built years before the storm hit. He essentially
constructed his own parallel industry, one immune
to the decisions of the old one. Using yonder
pouches and sympathetic podcast hosts as his
new gatekeepers, in a way. It's a remarkable
second act. Possible only because of that foundation
of autonomy. Which brings us to our final thought
for you, the listener. We've talked a lot about
how CK's innovations in selling tickets and specials
were designed to cut out the middleman, right?
To create this pure, direct link between him
and his fans. Giving him freedom, making him
millions. Bypassing the traditional filters.
So knowing everything that happened in 2017,
knowing the scale of the professional consequences
he faced from the established media companies,
the networks, the studios, what does it really
signify? What does it mean for where entertainment
might be heading? Yeah. What does it mean that
his ongoing career, his ability to still sell
out arenas and release acclaimed work, now depends
almost entirely on that direct transactional
relationship? A relationship that, by its very
nature, avoids the old gatekeepers, the critics,
the network executives, the HR departments who
decided he crossed a line. Think about that.
What are the implications when an artist can
effectively bypass the industry's ethical judgments
as long as that direct connection to the consumer
remains strong enough? It's something to consider
next time you click buy on content the old system
might have refused to distribute.