May 7, 2000 Washington Memo; For Politicians, Being Funny Is a Serious Business By John Files Mark Katz, presidential comedy writer, was pacing in the wings of the Washington Hilton like a nervous father-to-be while President Clinton delivered his lines at the White House correspondents' dinner last Saturday night. It was the high point of Washington's silly season, a kind of political sweeps, and Bill Clinton was lampooning himself as the quintessential Lonely Guy in the twilight of his presidency. His performance at the dinner won accolades as his funniest ever. Mr. Clinton showed home movies of himself running after his wife with a lunch bag, watching his laundry dry and bicycling through the Old Executive Office Building; the video has been replaying in the capital's offices all week. Being funny at the annual dinners of the Alfalfa Club, the Gridiron Club, and the associations of White House and broadcast correspondents, has become serious business in Washington, and Mr. Katz is a regular writer on the circuit. ''A good joke will last a week,'' said Mr. Katz, who also helped write Vice President Al Gore's speech at this year's Gridiron dinner. ''And a bad joke will appear in their obituary.'' The rules are strict. No sexually explicit humor. The radio talk show host Don Imus shocked Washington with his raunchy jokes about the president at the radio-television correspondents' dinner in 1996. Stay away from ethnic jokes. Former Senator Alfonse M. D'Amato learned that lesson the hard way when he tastelessly imitated an Asian accent in a radio talk show about Judge Lance A. Ito of California. Nothing too mean. The Gridiron Club's motto applies broadly to most Washington humor: singe but do not burn. Because the dinner speakers are mostly powerful politicians with large egos, leading Washington humorists agree that the key to success is self-deprecation. ''Self-deprecation allows you to get away with more,'' says Landon Parvin, who often writes jokes for prominent Republicans, including former Secretary of State James A. Baker. ''Take aim at yourself and then pick your spots after that,'' Mr. Katz agrees. ''You must earn the right to make fun of others by making fun of yourself.'' At the White House correspondents' dinner, Mr. Clinton made sure to singe himself first and brought down the house when he said: ''A year from now, I'll have to watch someone else give this speech. And I will feel an onset of that rare affliction, unique to former presidents. AGDD: Attention-Getting Deficit Disorder.'' Self-deprecation was also the centerpiece of Vice President Gore's successful monologues at the Gridiron dinner, in 1994, 1997 and last March. At the 1994 dinner, Mr. Gore made fun of his reputation for stiffness by being wheeled into the dais on a handcart. This year, he told the assembled journalists that ''there are some things I won't do to become president. I won't hold a press conference.'' He also drew roars by asking plaintively: ''This isn't a fund-raiser, is it?'' But he did not miss a chance to lampoon his presumed Republican rival for the presidency, Gov. George W. Bush of Texas, who he said ''thinks fettuccine Alfredo is the Italian prime minister.'' Writing Washington humor can be tricky, not only because the jokes must be topical, but also because, ''You never know exactly what might go over the line,'' says Mr. Parvin. The 51-year-old scribe, who dreams up jokes at his home in Fredericksburg, Va., has mostly written for Republicans, but also helped write lines for Robert S. Strauss, the prominent lawyer and former Democratic National Committee national chairman, at this year's Gridiron dinner. Much of his time is spent writing serious speeches for politicians and corporate executives. ''I write for people I like,'' he says. Mr. Parvin helped President Ronald Reagan use humor as a shield against his age, his glamorous background and even his relaxed work habits. But his big break came at the Gridiron dinner in 1982. He wrote the lyrics for a song, ''Secondhand Clothes,'' sung by Nancy Reagan, which parodied her taste for designer clothes. Mr. Katz, 36, formed the Soundbite Institute, a humor-writing consulting business, seven years ago in his apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, after losing his job at an advertising agency. He is the institute's ''resident scholar.'' In 1993, Mr. Katz wrote a speech for Madeleine K. Albright, who was then the United States ambassador to the United Nations, that sparked laughter from President Clinton. He has since written for Mr. Clinton, Mr. Gore and Hillary Rodham Clinton. Mr. Katz says he likes to test ''the line'' in his humor writing. ''I try to figure out where the line is, walk directly up to it and say hi,'' he said. ''The challenge is writing right on the line.'' One problem, both Mr. Katz and Mr. Parvin say, is that being funny has become a test for politicians. ''These are big pressure events,'' Mr. Parvin says. Humor has become another proving ground, especially for presidential candidates. Besides handling stand-up at the annual Washington dinners of media barons, politicians and lobbyists, politicians are expected to appear on the late-night Leno and Letterman shows, and on ''Saturday Night Live.'' Mr. Gore has improved his timing and delivery in recent years, but can still be a bit rigid. Mr. Bush has yet to make a major Washington appearance as a humorist (he did a short speech at the Alfalfa Club in 1998) but his remarks did draw a few laughs at a recent Republican fund-raising dinner. His appearance on the Letterman show in March, however, drew chilly reviews. Presidents rarely bomb. ''A president gets laughs easier,'' Mr. Parvin says. In his last year in office, Mr. Clinton seems to have mastered humor and is having a great time using jokes to get in some last digs. At the radio and television correspondents' dinner, he won over the crowd with a gibe at ABC News's handling of Leonardo DiCaprio's interview with the president for the network's Earth Day special. ''Don't you news people ever learn?'' the president asked. ''It isn't the mistake that kills you, it's the cover-up.'' back to what the hell