Chris Rock at the Oscars

In a year when both the Golden Globes and Grammys fell flat, the people who picked Chris Rock to host the Oscars may have made the right decision.

The Academy's attempt to pander to an MTV generation at least shows they're cunning capitalists. But even Elvis back from the grave wouldn't draw ratings without the tabloids. An outrageous host is only half the equation. Matt Drudge must be provoked.

But after all the hub-bub in the media about Rock's hate-mongering against gays, fetuses and, most recently, blacks, the edgy comedian might still become a victim of his own (and Drudge's) making.

In many ways Rock speaks with an objectivity that rises above the contemporary norm in stage comedy. When one really gets between the slanders and profanities and hears the pure stream of satire guiding his logic, he becomes a strange, incensed young objectivist, who took pages from John Stossel's book, read and reread Ayn Rand and maybe even tore through some Nietzsche between sets.

We laugh at Rock not because he points out the stupidity of mundane life (Jerry Seinfeld's shtick), nor because he has the overtly pretentious vocabulary of a Dennis Miller, but because his evaluations are sometimes so deadly that our laughter explodes through the release of every felt psychological dissonance guarded before the show.

In a riff about the impeachment of Bill Clinton, Rock asks, "Clinton got impeached for what? Lying about a blowjob to his wife." In his characteristic vocal-chord grind, he finishes glibly, "Do you need the Supreme Court for that one? You could take that to the People's Court."

While he does pick up on the traditional themes of the angry black man pitted against an oppressive white society, this is only one part of his act. More than anything, he rages against inanity and selfish unreasonableness. In his 1999 HBO special, "Bigger & Blacker," he asks what the working father gets in return for 13-hour days of hard labor, paying the utilities and making the world a better, safer place? "The big piece of chicken," he answers, "and some women don't want to give up the big piece of chicken."

As the camera flashes to the Apollo audience, now in full eruption, we dimly recall that "raising the roof" was cool in those days.

There's nothing politically correct about Rock. He takes jabs at anyone in reach, makes light of child molestation and, as the right-leaning media was hysterical to point out this month, jokes about picking up women at abortion rallies. He is a connoisseur of good edge work, as the late Hunter S. Thompson would say.

His stunning evaluations of American racism hit hardest. In the same act he states defiantly, "I have seen a polar bear ride a tricycle in my life, but I have never seen an [American] Indian family just chilling out at Red Lobster." In part, this is his effort to assuage black anger by palpably showing other groups have it just as bad, or worse. Still, he never denies the reality of black racism and anger, attempting throughout to mellow what could boil into extremism. But he never sells out the legitimate concerns of the black community.

So on one hand, Rock represents a kind-of stalwart rationality among what he describes in his comedy as a sometimes angry and irresponsible African-American community; and on the other hand, at least in the short term, he has become the marketing tool of a powerful Hollywood organization.

If he sells out completely Sunday night and plays to what the New York Times has called a "famously conservative" motion picture Academy, he'll have to answer to his fans.

But if he crosses over to his normal extremes in profanity and satire, he may cause huge embarrassment for the network and never again play a show on broadcast TV.

With all of that said, here are a few basic rules for Rock to follow Sunday night to satisfy his fans and appease the Academy:

1. Avoid any reference to abortion. Specifically, try to avoid the words, "It's beautiful that abortion is legal."

2. Stick to easy targets. Because so many on the left are still depressed Kerry didn't pull off the election, the climate is right for some good Dubya jokes. Set the president up for a good jibe, listen to the collective gulp and come crashing down.

3. Avoid all F-bombs, except in the case that the point of the joke is that you are trying to avoid the F-bomb, at which time, fumble, bleep and smile.

Of course, a good script and a funny monologue will make Rock seem like a pretty good guy. But part of his appeal in this particular media market is provoking the Drudge types, who have established wide channels, big readership and a bit of shock value themselves.

For personal reasons, he may want to play it closer to the edge. His market strength could disappear overnight if he comes off sterile, lukewarm and, worst of all, looking like the establishment's wooden puppet at the Oscars.

That's the fastest way to prove the rightists, well, right; and the surest way to fade into the history of comedy.

Sure, he could be Billy Crystal for a while, but who cares what Billy Crystal thinks? Rock still has a voice, though hearing it is fast becoming the act of tuning out a media hell-bent on destroying any nuanced position.

For the sake of America, Rock should seriously consider throwing down some Samuel Jackson-style Ezekiel 25:17 Sunday night on every misfit blogger who challenged, and misunderstood, his satire.

— David Irvin (dirvin79 at hotmail dot com)