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The promotional material for the second installment of the Netflix program “Mo” features the comedian Mo Amer sporting a keffiyeh along with a cowboy hat. “Mo” exists as a partly biographical, partly surreal dramedy, echoing the style of “Louie,” “Maron,” and “Ramy.” Both in the series and his stand-up performances, Amer, aged forty-four, presents somewhat embellished stories from his own existence, which was already quite dramatic. He came into this world in Kuwait, as the son of Palestinian evacuees. At the age of nine, the Iraqi forces launched an invasion, setting off the Gulf War, and Amer’s family had to run away. His father was being wrongfully detained as a political prisoner. Consequently, his mother concealed bundles of money inside a purse and a piece of luggage and steered her children across the boundary to a secure location. “My mother is a boss,” Amer declares in his inaugural stand-up program, “The Vagabond.”
The family found refuge in Houston, thus explaining the cowboy hat, the title of Amer’s follow-up stand-up effort (“Mohammed in Texas”), and the stage persona that Amer projects, which melds Southern allure, street-smart insights, and an extraordinary assortment of accents hailing from both of the Gulf regions. In a particular show, Amer recounts an episode concerning a stand-up gig in rural Louisiana soon following 9/11, where he nearly faced detention; in a separate tale, he speaks of putting on a show for American soldiers stationed in Iraq, during which he came close to being shot.
Amer confided in me that he has consistently felt a commitment to articulate opinions not solely as someone who is Muslim or of Arab descent, but even more pointedly as a Palestinian American funnyman. (“I stand alone,” was his assertion.) This sentiment was amplified after the Hamas-organized offensives of October 7, 2023, and the resulting Israeli military incursion into Gaza. In November of 2023, Amer captured on film a largely off-the-cuff presentation in Washington, D.C., processing his feelings in response to the escalating calamities. Ultimately, he opted against its release—it struck him as “too emotionally charged,” he said to me—yet the performance persisted in transformation until it evolved into his latest stand-up showcase, “Wild World,” which Netflix plans to unveil on October 28th.
By his own assessment, Amer identifies as “a deeply sentimental fellow.” (During our discussion, which we conducted via Zoom while Amer was situated on a hotel patio in Dubai, he continuously smoked, wiped sweat from his face, often chuckled, and teared up more than once.) “Wild World” certainly possesses a more refined quality compared to the shows he delivered two years prior, yet it largely centers on Palestine, and it is unabashedly direct. The very opening words of the program consist of “Fuck DJ Khaled”—a shoutout to the hip-hop bigwig, also a Palestinian American rooted in the South, who has refrained from voicing contentious viewpoints regarding the conflict, contrasting with Amer. And this hasn’t been Amer’s singular recent contact with debate; at the point of our discussion, he stood ready to take the stage (alongside Bill Burr, Dave Chappelle, Louis C. K., and numerous other figures) at the Riyadh Comedy Festival, an event widely condemned as an endeavor by Saudi Arabia to conceal its autocratic nature. (The progressive comedian Gianmarco Soresi mused that participating in the festival marked “the worst transgression of Louis C. K. to date.”)
In the course of our exchange, which underwent condensing and editing, Amer shared his rationale for consenting to the Saudi Arabia engagement, his relationships with Jon Stewart and Jimmy Kimmel, as well as his fearlessness in the face of potential cancellation.
What time do you have over there?
10 P.M. To tell the truth, I was still editing right before I jumped on this, considering that the special remains unfinished. Right now, it’s merely about applying finishing touches and small adjustments—the visuals, the re-recording, whatever else. I’ve been on a rigorous tour for the duration of the month—in reality, for the whole year—therefore I’ll carry out a performance, then dive in and commence editing until approximately 5 A.M. or 6 A.M., then get some sleep, wake up, and put on another show.
Are you traveling for your shows together with your wife and baby?
Yes, I brought him all over the place. It’s been a genuinely amazing occurrence. I secured a tour bus in Europe, a two-story vehicle equipped with a compact upstairs office, complete with Wi-Fi and Apple TV and all. That’s the approach that made this feasible—I would head upstairs, edit the special, then go back downstairs to get into bed next to my son and wife, wake up in the subsequent city, the next country, and duplicate the entire process. It has been extraordinarily memorable. I’ll share some pictures with you. [He raises his phone, flaunting images of his young child.]
Aww. What’s his age?
Twenty-one months.
Lovely.
The entire family remains united, man. It’s the finest experience I’ve had in my life, bro. Nothing else is remotely comparable.
So the purpose of our dialogue, clearly, is tied to your upcoming special. I have the intention of addressing that. Though, to begin: audiences recognize you from your prior programs and your Netflix series. But possibly we ought to make clear, for the benefit of individuals who are unfamiliar with your narrative, where you originate. If someone’s approach is totally uninformed, what insights concerning your life story would you wish to convey?
It’s quite fascinating, since the original special, titled “The Vagabond,” was conceived with the intent to bridge this knowledge deficiency. That constituted the central aim of that entire show—specifically, my goal to not have this specific discussion ever again. It’s genuinely interesting—not only this particular conversation, but the entirety of my existence has revolved around this point. And it was conceivably somewhat unsophisticated of me to presume, “I’ve produced a program elucidating my origins—that ought to suffice.”
I am grasping your viewpoint. So you perceived it as, “I’m growing exhausted by the necessity of self-explanation from the start each time. Let me distribute something into the public sphere that will fulfill that role for me.”
Every single instance. People inquire, “Oh, were you born in Kuwait? Does that make you Kuwaiti?” I reply, “Actually, no, I’m not Kuwaiti. It’s a different matter in the Middle East—it concerns the heritage of your ancestry.” “Alright, what is the root of your ancestry?” “Basically, I’m Palestinian.” “Okay, then why are you not located there?” “That, my friend, is an entirely different matter.” [Lets out a laugh.] “Where is your present residence? You live in Houston? Ah, so you’re a Texan, then.” Yes, I’m a Texan. Surely I’m a Texan. I’ve lived there for the bulk of my existence, in essence. Consequently, I do claim the title of Texan. But then, upon venturing abroad, they’re inclined to comment, “Oh, you’re from America.” As you arrive in America, individuals will point out, “Ah, you originate from overseas.” My inclination is to proclaim, “You know what? Leave me alone!”
[Chuckles.] True. There’s a striking joke featured in “The Vagabond” that addresses the logistics of this—a manner of slipping through the cracks in that aspect, as you navigate an airport and the official stationed behind the counter asks, “Where is your Kuwaiti passport? Where is your American passport? Where is your Palestinian passport?”
Precisely, that’s one segment. That’s just one element. It is, in my judgment, more convoluted than that. I refer to the process of steering my entire life as the person that I am. Executing standup performances intended for U.S. forces prior to my acquisition of U.S. citizenship, which stood as fairly unmatched. Comprehending it through my personal encounters, emerging from warfare, and facing displacement as a consequence—displacement affecting multiple generations. Due to these factors, it appeared especially advantageous—almost therapeutic or spiritual—for me to enact it in front of U.S. forces specifically and to embody my authentic self. That is the cornerstone of standup, isn’t it? To present oneself authentically. The opportunity to carry this out struck me as singular—I am not persuaded that anyone else has achieved this, certainly given the peril I was exposed to. There was an instance of cancellation shortly following 9/11. They counseled, “For your safety, it’s best that you don’t go.” On the other hand, it seemed doubly vital to me, and thus I acted accordingly, resulting in the awareness that a myriad of military installations exist globally, and a far grander geopolitical game unfolds—transcending our individual selves.
I became cognizant that many of these soldiers grappled with remorse over their placement there, not truly seeking that presence. Their personal journeys had endured intense pressures, leading them into that particular vocation—although not universally, yet applicable to a sizable fraction. That provided a profound learning experience.
Regarding the point about enacting performances within military compounds, what instance led to the restriction of your entry for the sake of your well-being?
Bearing in mind this transpired in the distant past, some of the particulars may lack precision; however, I am confident it involved Bahrain. This strikes me as ironic, given my approaching performance at an amphitheater there, having previously played an amphitheater there. Regardless, I am careful to avoid the distortion of details here, yet I did perform in Germany, Italy, and Sicily during April of 2001, achieving such favorable outcomes that an additional tour was planned: Bahrain, succeeded by ventures into Japan, Korea, and Guam. That likely occurred around January of 2002, in the vicinity of that time frame. Subsequently, my appearance suffered cancellation—not attributed to actions on my behalf but connected to my person. Specifically, it was based on my nature. The assumption was that my actions might give rise to concern, whereas in truth, their apprehension centered on potential events directed at me [rooted in my identity].
I engage with this topic [obliquely] in the ongoing special. I remark, “I’ve consistently been true to myself, with the exception of the two months post-9/11, where I portrayed myself as Italian.” That statement holds sincerity. I did act the part of an Italian individual for two months.
Did you alter your stage name?
There was no transformation in my name, stemming from the absence of awareness among individuals [regarding the origin of the moniker “Amer”]. The degree of my fear was such that I witnessed firsthand the unfolding developments. I found employment at a flag retailer during that period, thereby engaging with the immediate reactions of the populace to the entirety of the scenario. I cut this passage from the special; nonetheless, my mother would essentially volunteer me to fellow Arab business proprietors, opening avenues for work. I had yet to acquire a Social Security document at that juncture, not receiving one until the age of eighteen.
Understood. You were employed at a flag outlet, witnessing raw responses to 9/11 and concluding, “It’s possibly dangerous to identify as an Arab American during this period”—does that align with your experience?
My friend, there were instances where—I did omit this from the current program. Another time, potentially. However, this denoted my initial experience with a derogatory racial term aimed at Arabs. This specific flag business operated as an importer and distributor of flags. In fact, it was among the leading regional flag providers in Texas, shipping materials across the area. Effectively, I oversaw that whole enterprise. In turn, George W. Bush delivered an address, urging citizens to hoist American flags as a demonstration of patriotism. This precipitated the arrival of scores of displeased Texans, leading to the depletion of our complete stock within a mere twenty-four hours. I’m speaking about thousands of flags, and an equivalent number of flagpoles. Dust-ridden and long-standing, they were assumed to be permanent. However, that wasn’t the case. And as it occurred, it was the last flag I sold. I was likely between eighteen and nineteen, already underway with standup. Initially, I was booked for a set at a club, where the local news would report. A significant occurrence.
The flag retailer’s proprietor received a call concerning the final remaining flag, instructing me to hold it for [an incoming customer]. He then informed me over the phone that he would be arriving later. However, this individual surfaced three hours behind schedule. The interview, the standup performance, and all other commitments had escaped me. He materialized and noticed the prayer penned in Arabic situated above my office, prompting the statement, “I knew it.” I responded, “Knew what?” My speech was absent of any accent, thereby obscuring my identity. And he directly looked at me and proclaimed, “This place is owned by a sand nigger.” Those were his very words.
The impact left me rattled. My prior experience lacked familiarity with that term; however, its immediate comprehension emerged, along with the underlying implication. I became consumed by frustration. I thought to myself, My name is Mohammed. I’m Muslim. I was the one who’s been waiting for you for three hours. I had clarity at that instant. He had likely discerned the owner’s accent over the phone, prompting suspicion concerning their potentially Muslim or Arab origin. Consequently, his actions consisted of an exhaustive search for an American flag elsewhere, concluding in failure and thus compelling his visit here—three hours behind schedule. Anger consumed me. I said, “You know what? You’d better purchase this flag. This particular offering boasts super-polyester construction. It differentiates itself from the standard polyester flag. You’re procuring a five-hundred-dollar flag.” The assertion lacked accuracy, costing perhaps three dollars with a twenty-dollar sales tag. His acceptance followed: “Fine, I will take it.” My retort followed: “Great.” His further inquiry involved “Well, I need a flagpole.” Completely out of flagpoles, I responded with, “Well, I do happen to possess one flagpole. Hand-carved and hand-sanded, no less”—fabrications delivered spontaneously—“carrying a price tag of five hundred dollars. But here, I’ll include a stand at no extra charge.” I retrieved the mop and detached the handle.
I was beyond furious, my friend. Exposure to the term was my first experience. Feelings of being an outsider have existed in me; however, the degree of ignorance involved strikes me as profoundly saddening. The swift shifts of public sentiments continue to amaze.
I then went on to conduct standup on that specific evening, exhibiting my authentic self.
That situation contains so many intricacies. One facet involves your recourse to retaliate by thinking one step ahead of him, using your cunning to your benefit, in a sense hustling him. This closely relates to the way that performance is a factor. At that juncture, you are in pursuit of a career as a performer—
Man, my participation in performance had already spanned approximately five years. Standup and theatre were part of my repertoire. I had already gained competence. The job filled me with contempt. My mother resisted my standup ambitions, thinking, “You’re exceedingly intelligent, start your own business instead.” That sort of sentiment. Basically, I would intentionally antagonize my employer, trying to elicit my firing. However, it became incumbent on me to fulfill my mother’s expectations, and to render aid to my family.
Acknowledged. Your standup features accompanying tales in which the emphasis rests on self-expression. Simultaneously, another portion exists that involves appealing to the audience and cultivating their affection to include them. You present yourself authentically, striving to foster an atmosphere where people feel comfortable. Your material has a tale concerning an encounter at a military base where an indignant soldier threatened you with gunfire. An additional tale portrays your visit to a remote town in Louisiana where minor infractions led to potential imprisonment due to racial and religious profiling. In each instance, your skill in performance, as well as a knack for alleviating potential threats and fostering positive engagement through humor, becomes essential.
Precisely, that encapsulates my complete journey. This has been my defining feature. Indubitably. The return to Kuwait and Iraq represented the final military tour I completed; in that experience, I was enabled to, in effect, finalize a significant portion of unfinished business, securing a resolution to a substantial loose end within my sentiments pertaining to our precipitate departure, as well as grieving the loss of a sense of genuine togetherness and relatives. Our uncle dwelled next door. My aunts had their homes in proximity, with cousins all in one location. As a consequence of this disruption, the consequences of warfare on our family can prove challenging.
With regards to the element of being likable on stage, that simply embodies my nature. My mentor conveyed to me at a young age the importance of stepping on stage with a smile. That instruction remains ingrained in me. I also find that the ability to guide the audience rests upon their comfort with you. This strategy possesses significant longevity.
Further, I maintain a sizable frame. This necessitates the cultivation of a mild stage temperament. These elements represent techniques that you learn to consciously control. Realization of a designated objective hinges on inducing relaxation within the audience. The approach is not about an attempt at transformation.
Assuredly, you give no impression of feigning qualities that you do not possess. Instead, your actions convey the distribution of information in a manner that will encourage the public’s comprehension of your full identity, without inspiring responses that may potentially elicit harm to your person or disengagement as a performer. Is that an accurate representation?
Precisely. Gosh, during the visit to Kuwait and Iraq, my possession of a passport was lacking. I wielded a refugee travel document. I was even not permitted to enter the nation. However, conversing with the immigration officer in perfect English resulted in my admission. Ultimately, I found myself within Saddam Hussein’s palace—transformed into a hotel. That individual caused the invasion of Kuwait, uprooting our life. This was quite somber and eerie. However, interacting with the locals, or the soldiers, provided solace. It did me a world of good.
I’d like to revisit the subject of Kuwait and Iraq. It has immense importance. Nonetheless, concerning the act of conducting tours in the Middle East, there is considerable debate surrounding the Riyadh Comedy Festival. What led to the decision of taking that engagement? Did it prompt hesitation?
At the outset, it is remarkably telling that no one mentions Tom Brady [reportedly] securing seventy-five million dollars for a flag-football game there, or Jennifer Lopez, or a hundred other performing musicians. The attention coalesces upon the comic aspect. That seems both provocative and regrettable, considering that the realm of standup alone allows for open criticism. The stage enables the articulation of certain concepts that may not be feasible during dance routines or football games. So this becomes the main focus.
In the second place, my identity stands as an Arab American comedian. A Palestinian. The purpose of my presence lies in assisting the populace. Both Saudis and Palestinians need to see me. I stand as a unique person to them, and they, similarly, hold unique value to me. I need to see them. It’s unrelated to politics.
Hypocrisy becomes visible with performances executed in America, with tax contributions being allocated toward objectives that fail to assist our citizenry, our educational system, or anything equivalent, when we represent one of the globe’s foremost instigators of war. Yet, you opt to [single out Saudi Arabia]. This is not a political game that I intend to participate in.
Standup can act as one of the purest art forms to transfer to that region. Articulating from the stage carries a value of immeasurable proportions, something beyond the capacity of music. Football may find limitations as well. Boxing may provide a parallel, should Muhammad Ali’s equivalent exist, though now it is dominated by money, glimmer, and allure. Therefore, the focus being placed on this aspect now comes across as both interesting and strange, especially when similar actions have taken place in the past, and the world now seems to look at comedians as the perpetrators.
[After his Riyadh performance, Amer appended, “Messages have flooded my Instagram, saying, ‘As a Palestinian currently living in Saudi, never have I witnessed anyone speak so freely.’ To my utter surprise, children were frequently in attendance. I understand the underlying reasons. It stood as monumental. Coming from where I originate, with my background, a different impact is created. I possess a different form of presence.
“The assumption holds that kings and royals will be prominent, yet it will be the local citizens, or expats, that form the audience. Years down the line, a notable difference will be noticed. There is a feeling of rightness: This is a positive thing. This is going to be momentous.
“Palestinians across the world experience suppression, a feeling of incapacity to speak unreservedly about the unfolding situation and the internal struggles. I have the unparalleled opportunity to engage in standup with my singular foundation, liberating the spirits of those present, offering them the chance to perceive themselves.”]
Focusing briefly on your newest endeavor: You had Dave Chappelle present your first program, together with Black Thought writing a custom song, then you had the Rock introduce your follow-up. How would you surpass such introductions? Would Barack Obama be presenting you, for instance?
[Lets out a laugh.] This has an element of craziness. I am grateful that you have taken notice.
I actually took a contrasting approach. I abstained from any such additions. The opening line of the special becomes “Fuck DJ Khaled.” The intention was evident. The special begins by cutting hard to that line.
My inclination became to initiate this dialogue by simply saying “Fuck DJ Khaled.”
Affirmative. What is occurring? What has possessed us? Really, now?
The entire special represents that sentiment to me. A declaration of my identity. I am tired of playing a part. The special contains not just my own thoughts, but those shared by everyone. You simply take notes. Observing. Speaking the quiet words aloud.
Regarding Palestine, this has consistently become the pursuit of the brightest path. The most comedic expression. Expressing anger, or rashly condemning, can be accomplished with great ease. Comedy should take the form of a graceful dance. Possessing moments of silliness and intellect. I recall a record in my teen years, a Bill Hicks record, where he conveyed that “the dick jokes are forthcoming.” The crowd requires that to be satisfied.
With this very subject, jokes about Palestine, there is the most frivolous version, evidenced by your humor surrounding hummus. [“Mohammed in Texas” closes with a memorable scene discussing the construction of hummus, and its distribution: “I’m gonna erect a wall down the center of my hummus. I attempted a one-bowl answer, though you will never participate.”] The example represents an attempt at a joke on the two-state solution. There can also exist elements within your Netflix project which contain far weightier material, such as settlers robbing residents of their olive trees in the West Bank.
To this day, an exorbitant number of texts and images concerning chocolate-based hummus and pumpkin-spiced hummus result from that bit. It has been extraordinary.
This endeavor takes a more direct method: “We’ve no time to spare. We must get underway.”
The accessible information presently diverges sharply from what became available a pair of years previously. The nature of the world has evolved. I called [the special] “Wild World” for this very reason. I am now party to a distinct range of dialogues. I feel more perceived. It is unnecessary to laboriously spell out the punchlines, one simply carries them out.
In my position, only I can fill the position. Given my place as a Palestinian comedian, the artist’s burden that I must carry comes at a unique instant, devoid of opportunity for squandering. Minced words find no use.
Speaking of minced words: we are in dialogue not long following the suspension of Jimmy Kimmel’s program, caused by a joke spoken following the reported demise of Charlie Kirk. What emerged as your reaction?
It struck me as ludicrous. A text message went out to Kimmel straightaway. The report of his suspension materialized before any text was sent. So prior to sending, I wanted to be acquainted with the words he uttered so that a reasonable message would be delivered. After observation, the statement seemed to be something benign. I was stricken: What do these developments entail? Toast will be our fate, should we continue down this trajectory. The means of enduring as a society and a real, operating community will be tested. Our situation rests upon a thin thread.
Jimmy represents an exemplary individual. I was booked on the show that upcoming Monday when I met him for the first time. As Jon Stewart collected the Mark Twain Prize, he made an introduction on that preceding Friday. Jimmy then acknowledged the approaching performance. Stewart simply stated that his purpose was served. Jimmy asked me about my means of getting back to L.A. on Monday, seeing as the Twain Prize occurred on Sunday [in D.C.]. “My flight departs at 6 A.M., arriving at noon.” He offered a ride on his plane. The man was not a part of my personal sphere. I conceded the difficulty of accepting, owing to an unreasonable quantity of baggage. The baggage came from touring for a month. He remained unphased by the baggage. The issue met his indifference. The arrangement became something I could not do. The man was insistent, and that completed the exchange. Not only that, in the car that conveyed us to the plane, he sat behind his spouse, in the rear. My luggage filled the entirety of the plane’s space. Sitting as a passenger in the front seat was quite embarrassing, and I was not happy. The introduction occurred in this manner. The moment could not be explained. The younger version of myself could not comprehend the circumstances. If I had the power to time-travel from the airport, while trying to define the circumstances surrounding my refugee document, I would have difficulty perceiving this particular development.
The repression of speech that has applied to Kimmel also extends to dialogue concerning Palestine. To talk about Palestine represents something that comes with its very own degree of trickiness in America. Your special depicts an occasion following October 7, 2023, where onstage expression came to a halt. What events led to this suspension?
Jewish Voice for Peace extended me an offer. Given my approval of their organization, I consented to attend a D.C. rally, in turn delivering a heartfelt speech. That led to my manager’s attempt to contact the DC Improv, where I have been known to sell out venues many times. Contact was made. “Put me in the small room. I will invite people, riff, and allow events to progress.” The attempt failed. The rejection was shocking, especially given the revenue that I have generated for them. This was done in good faith. I do not want to anger anyone. I strive for inclusivity. [A representative from the DC Improv issued a declination to comment.]
[Amer eventually arranged for the production of the show at a distinct D.C. venue.] The act consisted of freelancing about my life, grandparents, background, circumstances, and the fact that “shit” still happened. A countless number of individuals along the road shared accounts of losing upwards of a hundred relatives. In Stockholm, a Gazan resident disclosed the decimation of over ninety. His life rests in a disrupted condition. I held children attending PCRF [Palestine Children’s Relief Fund] events out of Gaza. Holding a three-year-old with leg and arm amputations led to tears and an urge to regain composure.
I always knew that I would succeed. I had never anticipated the circumstances that would accompany me. This included never seeing the gravity of the developments. The burden has been severe.
When the Palestinian people suffer these events, and I, as a result of the fact that I represent a leading Palestinian figure, have the necessity to speak about them, does that represent the form of burden that you address?
Affirmative, that indeed is accurate. Moreover, I feel poised to have numerous dialogues with my Jewish friends, and I regret the absence of calls. Jon Stewart acted as a genuine example of humanity. He engaged with me and offered assistance in handling the unfolding developments. Dave [Chappelle] and Chris Martin from Coldplay did so as well.
The accusation of antisemitism often follows those who stand as anti-Zionist. When dialogue is given, and issues are joked about, there remains a potential chance of facing cancellation. This special contains jokes concerning being suspicious of the Jewish physician who delivered your baby. Jerry Seinfeld faces a calling out for having said that “I don’t care about Palestine.” How does one conduct a performance in front of an audience that allows for remaining on the right side of the issues?
To begin, given that I come from a Semitic background, accusations of antisemitism strike me as ludicrous and absurd. My sentiments do not contain even the slightest hint. With great affection, I view the man who assisted in my son’s birth. Given what they did during the C-section, the physician on that side did better work—no harm intended to the other wonderful physician. The humor comments on the absurdity of our times.
I have the freedom to be cancelled. I express concern, nevertheless, over the fact that residents die. Families and lineages have been decimated. Concern exists over minor considerations. Dialogue must follow. Pretense cannot succeed in making them disappear.
Seinfeld also comes under the scrutiny of his horrible remarks, which continue to worsen. He may stand to say that the Free Palestine movement closely mirrors the Ku Klux Klan in terms of the type of “shit” they say. This feels dismissive and repulsive. I then question the level of confidence society has, as well as why Ms. Rachel garners more confidence than the New York Times.
My position as a “Seinfeld” fan still stands. Those admired individuals I once looked up to seem to wish that I had the desire to die. That would not be allowed. The claim cannot be seen as typical. We must not do that. An upbringing that is typical comes to mind when I think about my son’s situation. Not on my watch.
I feel outstanding. I maintain a rich supply of stories to communicate. A substantial range of content from movies and television seems to be within my creation capacity, and it would become something of a loss should completion never come to pass. That would be solved. Completion will become realized. ♦
Sourse: newyorker.com
