Look at this smirk. I could be an animatronic but I am not.
When I smirk, I am thinking wistfully about how the Harvard Lampoon, which I edited masterfully and notoriously, notes me on the ‘Classics’ page of their website with a link to an article I wrote about Viagra in 2004. Viagra is very funny and makes me chuckle very much. Tehe! Penis pills? A laugh riot! At Harvard University, me and the boys would talk about Viagra all day and then immediately get hired to work at respected comedy institutions after graduation.
I still don’t know who “Jane Curtain” is and don’t care to find out.
This smirk is me thinking about my girlfriend, Literal Scarlett Johansson. After the show, I will go to a wine bar with her and we will stare at each other in silence.
Smirking is a hobby I picked up at boys school. When I was a young lad at my Manhattan Prep School in the halcyon days of yore, one of my peers came up to me and said: “Colin Jost? More like Colin Jokes!” Suddenly, it hit me. Yes, yes I do joke! And my name has always been Colin. I decided then and there to set the modest goal of becoming an SNL writer by the age of 22.
If people don’t laugh at this joke, I will keep smirking until they do. I’ll purse my lips and stare blankly into the camera until someone, anyone, laughs at this joke, which is about Viagra, which went over really well at Harvard.
Ohhh boy look at me go! Look at this edgy material I’m delivering. Trump? Russia? Hilary’s e-mails? Major headlines that I came across in my e-subscription to the Wall Street Journal? This stuff writes itself! But seriously, I write this stuff and I’m very good at it.
This is the smirk that Lorne Michaels discovered in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel, where we were both drinking Manhattans as an homage to the island we call home. “Kid, you’re going straight to the top,” Lorne said, bumming a cigarette from me and then immediately throwing it on the ground. “But Mr. Michaels sir, how do you know?” I asked, picking the cigarette up and lighting it. Lorne took me by the shoulders. “You remind me of a young Jane Curtain,” he said. “Haha, okay,” I whispered, dazzled. He took me by the hand and led me to 30 Rockefeller Plaza where suddenly, I was writing jokes for Vince Vaughn that would eventually get cut for time.
Images via and various Weekend Updates. Don’t sue me, NBC! Colin Jost, however, is allowed to sue me.