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Geeks go for guffaws "Computer Stew" puts high-tech, lowbrow humor on the Net By Patti Hartigan, Globe Staff, 10/01/99 CAMBRIDGE -- Two dancers in distinctly unbusinesslike attire are shimmying in a corporate conference room, performing the kind of moves you might see at the halftime show of a third-rate football league. A guy in a metallic suit and gigantic turban is either break-dancing on the boardroom table or having an allergic reaction to gold lame. Another guy, with a hand-held camera, is shouting, ``Lots of energy, lots of smiles, big eyes!'' So what have we here? An optometrist's approach to directing? A motivational workshop for burnt-out professionals? No, no, no. ``This is what we're doing: nerd humor!'' shouts the turbaned one as the dancers display vacant looks. Nerd humor, indeed. There's a lot of it going around. This brand of comedy was previously reserved for folks who know what Eniac stands for, but with the exponential growth of the Internet, geek humor is suddenly trendy. So John Hargrave and Jay Stevens are filming an episode of an Internet show called ``Computer Stew.'' The two cyber clowns are living proof that anyone with a computer and a camera can produce an on-line show. Talent, of course, is optional: Hargrave, 30, and Stevens, 31, admit that themselves on their Web site, www.computerstew.com. The daily show is filmed in the Cambridge offices of ZDNet, an on-line publisher of technology news that is not exactly a breeding ground for pop culture. Hargrave convinced the firm's powers that be to sponsor the show, which he began producing on April Fools' Day while he was supposed to be doing his day job as editorial projects director at ZDNet. The show debuted officially this month and has attracted an underground following of folks who, judging from their on-line comments, have been initiated into the peculiarities of nerd humor. The show aspires to be a version of ``Dilbert'' meets David Letterman meets ``South Park'' meets Howard Stern. Hargrave counts Stern among his influences, who also include Penn & Teller, Michael Moore, David Lynch, and Peter Gomes, pastor of Harvard's Memorial Church. (Don't ask about Gomes; some things just can't be explained.) As for the show, put it this way: As host, Hargrave is either an inspired lunatic or the annoying kid you sat next to in high school who still hasn't grown up. It depends on the episode and your particular point of view. Hargrave is a wild man who does anything for a laugh, ranging from break dancing in a turban to conducting various stunts that are best left behind the bathroom door. And his reputation precedes him -- at least in high-tech circles. He and Stevens met as students at Berklee College of Music, where Hargrave created a controversy with his senior project. (He graduated; we checked.) In recent years, he has conducted ambush interviews at staid industry shows and chronicled his pranks on the Web site www.zug.com. His claim to fame? He kissed Bill Gates at a trade show. ``I have no problem if you think I need attention,'' he says. ``There's a fine line between needing attention and getting a laugh.'' In contrast, Stevens plays the straight man who appears via speakerphone from Atlanta, where he is a computer consultant. ``It's the only show where the co-host literally calls in his performance,'' says Stevens with practiced precision. The show comes in byte-size servings of about three minutes per segment. Short videos are appearing on the Internet, as entrepreneurs and Hollywood types are falling over one another trying to discover what kind of entertainment content is going to make a killing on line. And like it or not, there's nothing else quite like ``Computer Stew'' out there. ``We're a real-life `Wayne's World,' '' says Hargrave. ``We're like `The Blair Witch Project' -- only funny,'' says Stevens. In truth, this ``Stew'' is hit-or-miss. Some segments are original and inspired, like the one featuring haiku about floppy disks (``Floppies are not good / For decorative loincloth / Trust me on this one''). And the self-described ``lowly geeks'' are wizards at phony phone calls and self-deprecation, in the style of Letterman but with a nerd flavor. On one segment, Stevens's mom announces, ``Y'all are truly pitiful.'' But some mothers would pooh-pooh the shows about bodily functions, a brand of humor popularized by ``South Park'' and not particularly appealing, nerd or not. Let's not forget that Hargrave himself likes to tell anyone who will listen that his concept was rejected by other media outlets. But what does the target audience of ``lowly geeks'' think? During the shoot in the conference room, a mild-mannered ZDNet Web developer named Ezra Ball operates a camera. ``The show is at least 30 percent brilliant,'' he says, pausing. ``I'm not exactly sure what the other 70 percent is.'' Well, the math seems about right.
This story ran on page D01 of the Boston Globe on 10/01/99.
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