That he does all this as a black dude is somewhat mind-blowing. Without being heavy-handed, Andre, as a black comedian, brings the absurd nature of black comedy, of blackness in general, into sharp focus. In an age when a brother can get smoked for wearing a hoodie, blasting his music in traffic or holding some Skittles, one could say that this is irresponsible, but more accurately, it is Andre seeing what he can get away with because, as a black man in the United States of America, what's he got to lose? Hopefulness in the face of bleakness has kind of been our bread and butter for centuries. Unlike, say, "Black Dynamite," the animated Adult Swim series based on Michael Jai White's whip-smart blaxploitation riff of the same name, "The Eric Andre Show" doesn't feed into stereotypes of blacks as pimps, hoes, or killers (even if only for comedic effect), nor does it wield a Cosbyesque pull-up-your-pants-or-perish agenda. Rather, it serves as a comedic analogue to lifetimes spent striving, but not necessarily thriving, a theme as American as apartheid.