Park Slope Profiles in Courage: Mike Sacks, Humor Writer

Photo by Justin Bishop 

When humor writer Mike Sacks arrives for our interview at Cocoa Bar, he is over an hour late. He has brought with him a large Dunkin' Donuts coffee, which he refuses to dump even when the teenage barista reminds him that he's not allowed to bring in outside food or drink. Instead, he pulls out an orange and noisily begins to peel it. He wears whiskey-tinted sunglasses, and seems preoccupied with "magical lights" and "special visitors."

Sacks, who has been on the editorial staff at Vanity Fair for the past ten years, has penned a few works that one might find in a local bookstore's humor section: And Here's the Kicker is a collection of extensive interviews with some of the greatest humorists of our time, including David Sedaris, Merrill Markoe, Paul Feig and Dick Cavett. According to literary scuttlebutt, Sacks worked on the book every day for two years, and the effort shows. This past March he released Your Wildest Dreams Within Reason, which is composed of pieces previously published in The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, Esquire, and McSweeney’s. Sacks is also a co-author of the carnally informative book Sex: Our Bodies, Our Junk, which was a collaboration with members of a comedy group known as The Association For the Betterment of Sex.

Because I could barely get him to answer one question during our brief in-person interview (he's "shy" and doesn't like "personal contact," according to his agent), the following answers were provided via email, sent a week later.

When and why did you move to Park Slope?

I moved to Park Slope in 1999. I had been living in DC, working at the Washington Post. Truthfully, I didn’t enjoy working there and was ready for a change. Specifically, I was tired of working with egomaniacs who wore red, white and blue bowties. The nerds with the attitudes. There is no worse type of nerd.

Originally, I wanted to move to Manhattan, but I had friends who lived in Park Slope and they suggested I look here first, which I did. Really enjoyed it, and still do. I used to live on President Street, but I now live in the South Slope.

What do you like most/least about the neighborhood?

MS: I love the park. I love to sit nude at the boat house and watch the ducks, although it’s been hinted that this might be “illegal.” I hate the F train. Can’t stand the crowds, the slowness, the warm, rich, smoky smell of roasted chicken. Seems to always smell of roasted chicken, no matter the time of day or night. I love brunching with my buddy Lou Reed at Applewood and shooting dice with Larry King in the playground of PS 107. I don’t know either of these people, nor do I particularly like them, but I like to dreamy think.

What’s your favorite Park Slope . . .

Restaurant? The Austrian place on 7th with the rude, ponytailed male waiter. Have you ever been waited on by this guy? Total asshole. Oh, favorite restaurant. Well, I like the 12th Street Bar and Grill a lot. I also like Le P’tit Paris Bistro on Prospect Park West—and pretty much any other restaurant with plenty of soap in the lavatories.

Bar? Truthfully, I don’t do much drinking in bars. I like to drink in public, with my doo-wop group the Sark Plopers. When that’s not happening, I’m at the Double Windsor.

Place to people watch? I’m at the 11^th Street Playground a lot now with my daughter. That’s an interesting place to people watch, even though all of the parents looks pretty much the same: bleary-eyed and slightly bored. Another good place to people watch is from the steps of the Brooklyn Library, where it’s the kids’ turn to look bleary-eyed and slightly bored.

Are you a member of any Coops? How do you feel about the Food Coop?

I’m a proud non-member of the co-op. My wife wants me to join, but I’ve refused on account that the place seems really fucking annoying.

What’s your take on . . .

Babies in Bars? I’m all for it. I have a two-and-a-half-year old. I like sipping my peppermint schnapps while she wanders outside, asking for change so that “we can eat.”

The PPW Bike Lane? I have no problems with the bike lane. I do have a problem with bikers on the paths in the park, however. I’ve seen that happen a lot, and it’s way too dangerous. But my main concern, really, is getting hit by a livery cab. Why do the cops ticket cyclists but not speeding cars? It’s my fear that the last sound I’ll ever hear will be the bleating horn of a dented 2006 Chevrolet.

Cats in bodegas? That’s a new alternative band, right? Yes, I like them.

Do you identify yourself as a:

• Breeder (You’ve produced offspring)
• Baller (Kid-free and loving it)
• Braller (Kid-free at the moment, but you’ve got Bugaboos in your future)
• Other (Open for your interpretation)

I’m a breeder, and I can’t deny it. More specifically, I’m a baller who’s now a breeder who likes to watch my breed brawl with other babies.

Nearly all of my humorist friends own And Here’s the Kicker. It’s like some sort of great prerequisite for comedy 'round these parts. Who were you most excited to interview for the book, and what was your tactic for getting such legendary humor writers to speak with you at great length?

Thanks, that’s nice of you to say. I think I was most excited to talk with Irv Brecher, who was 93 when I interviewed him. He wrote for the Marx Brothers, as well as punching up the script to “The Wizard of Oz.” Can you imagine that? Writing jokes for “The Wizard of Oz”? Speaking to him was a real bridge to another time and place, both of which are long gone. He died a few months after we spoke, unfortunately. A real character. I loved talking with him.

My tactic was really to beg the subjects to speak with me for a few hours. Of course, I never mentioned the “few hours” part, and that surprised quite a few people. In some cases, I interviewed authors for up to ten to fifteen hours (over a stretch of time). I don’t think most of them knew what they were in for, as most interviews they particpate in are fairly short. But, in my defense, I will say that I did a tremendous amount of preparation for each interview, sometimes for up to 25 hours—so, in the end, I wasn’t wasting their time with stupid questions, like, “Hey! Where you from again?”

One of my favorite pieces from Your Wildest Dreams Within Reason is “IKEA Instructions." My mom hates IKEA (“It’s such a maze that – God forbid –  if there was ever a fire, each and every one of us would die, $2.99 ceramic bowl in hand.”) How do you feel about having an IKEA so close in Red Hook? Is it a blessing or curse?

I agree with your mother. Walking through any IKEA always reminds me of that scene in “Midnight Express” when the prisoner gets anally raped. I think that was the movie. Or was it “Midnight Run”? No, it was “Yentl.” In any case, I was against the Red Hook IKEA from the start, and I still haven’t been there. If I ever do go there, though, it would only be for the Swedish meatballs and the lingonberry juice, the berries of which are plucked fresh each morning by the loamy banks of the Gowanus.

As a writer, you can work from almost anywhere. What kind of setting allows you to be most productive?

I can never understand why writers would want to write in Starbuck’s or any other coffee shop. I prefer the comfort and quiet of my own apartment, churning out articles with dub techno blasting from all eight subwoofers.

Do you ever hit up local comedy or storytelling shows? If so, do you have a favorite?

 I like the monthly show Mr. Coconuts at Union Hall a lot. And I really enjoy the Steamboat series at Greenlight Book Store that Bob Powers hosts. And Big Terrific! with Gabe Liedman and Jenny Slate. All are great and definitely worth checking out.

Can you give me an elevator pitch for a TV show about Park Slope?

I’d love to see a TV show in which Marty Markowitz is chased by a pack of jackals through the Atlantic Yards construction site. That’s pretty much it. Marty Markowitz being chased by a pack of wild jackals through the Atlantic Yards construction site. Run, Marty, run! Fuggedaboutit!