Farewell, Marc

By the time you read this, chances are Marc Maron has retired from podcasting. Every Monday and Thursday (with exceptions) for 16 years, he has dropped a new episode of WTF on the dot at midnight. For those not on his mailing list, it was an exciting moment of surprise to discover who he wanted to interview that week. Maybe they would have a new project out, or maybe Marc just wanted to talk to someone whose ideas interested him. Nevertheless, he has been there for a near two decades, rain or shine, welcoming his “what the fuckers” and “what the fuck buddies” to another hour together. 

For some, like myself, it became ritualistic to expect his voice in your feed. In an age where podcasts have felt ephemeral and more business-oriented, Maron was sticking largely to the same script he had in 2009: a cold open followed by a lengthy interview. Those first 10-20 minutes were a chance to check in with the host and see how he was doing, maybe even plug a few dates for his stand-up. Nevertheless, he had this way of breaking down barriers. He wasn’t above anybody. He recorded from his garage. He spoke candidly about mental health struggles and his ongoing cat issues. In fact, the storied passing of one cat (now immortalized in an episode of IFC’s Maron) led to the catchphrase that ends every episode: BOOMER LIVES!

I will wake up on Wednesday and, for the first time since I was 20, not be greeted by a new episode. Whereas I’ve rummaged through hundreds of shows in that time, there has been one consistent: WTF. Most of the fledgling shows that got me into the form – /Filmcast, SModcast, Doug Loves Movies – have become less frequent presences in my life. At most, I’ll stop every dozen months or so and ask, “What are they up to?” I suppose the good news is that, in every case, the answer is that they’re up to the same old, same old.

I can’t be sure why I “outgrew” those shows while WTF remained. Maybe it was the higher-profile guests that Maron interviewed at that time, but that would dismiss the cult of personality. What was it about him that, over the years, led me to buy his book “Attempting Normal” as well as several of his comedy albums (along with the CD compilation of his first 100 episodes), and my very own BOOMER LIVES! shirt, which I wore to his gig at The Carpenter Center in 2022? He wasn’t exactly the most analog voice I could’ve supported at the time, and yet he meant the world to me.

The answer can be found in his penultimate episode, which forwent the typical guest appearance and focused on a 30-minute conversation of him detailing everything the show has meant to him. Through his candidness, he admitted that the show was an outlet for his expression, which also helped him realize that everyone is trying to get through life with their own form of darkness. Along with any career boost, the developed empathy and transparency helped Maron stand out in a market that was increasingly drawn to ads and bits. Even if his original run had skits reminiscent of his Air America days, there was some radical push towards freeform conversation that could reach levels of introspection rarely seen. It wasn’t “commercial” to hear someone of Robin Williams’ stature contemplate suicide. There wasn’t any hope that a “failed” comedian could rebrand himself with an unproven internet medium. All that could be driven from WTF in 2009 was a sense of passion and the hope that something greater would emerge. By the time that the final audio collage set to The Flaming Lips’ “Do You Realize?” started, there was recognition not only of the passage of time, but everything he had achieved by simply letting curiosity win him over. 

In most cases, saying “goodbye” to a podcast has felt like the ending of Stand By Me (1986). You are less driven by a convenient closure and more by the reality that one day, something just ceases to exist. You listen to the outro music, and that will be the last time that their voice is heard in your ears. It’s still bittersweet, but there is something rare and far too beautiful about a finale like WTF. Whereas I grew enough distance to not feel verklempt about missing somebody like Doug Benson, I listened to The Flaming Lips montage and began crying. The quotes, in their sincerity, aren’t necessarily the most shattering revelations the show has ever had, but recognition of how much value the little moments bring, the ones of talking to people and realizing that the best thing we can do for each other is to connect and realize we are stronger in numbers.

Then again, it feels increasingly rare to have certain parasocial relationships on par with WTF. While some creators are more transparent and broadcast more frequently, there’s still this self-awareness in branding. Yes, Maron had a brand as the neurotic Jew, but his conversations weren’t defined by schtick. He was searching for authenticity during a time when the old format of morning radio was trying to bridge with the digital age, before it basically became, no pun intended, serialized. Even in the early 2010s, there was something that made him closer to an elder statesman than a firebrand, especially against institutions like The Nerdist.

No, the thing that made Maron stand out was his level of honesty with his audience, both in monologue and in interviews. There haven’t been as many people as I’d like to admit whom I’ve spent as much time with every week in the past 16 years as I have Maron. As I’ve aged into my 30s and everybody is taken ahold by life, there are people I see less frequently. I may engage in a brief Facebook exchange once a month, and that will suffice. And then there’s WTF. Even as he’s evolved, he’s been there on Mondays and Thursdays (with exception) to let me know how everything’s going. Some weeks are better than others, but it’s hard to say that anyone outside of personal life felt as recognizable as him. I was such an avid listener that I’d watch his specials and realize I heard an eighth of the jokes being developed on the podcast. 

In an age where everything is moving fast and we’re expected to care only about immediate results, my emotional response to WTF is also a reminder of the gradual build, the “it took 10 years to become an overnight sensation” feeling that we like to joke about. I am speaking less as someone who got on the bandwagon early and more the sense of living in the moment with him. For all those years, I lived those in-between days, uncertain of what would happen next, at times anticipating the simplest of things for Maron and being surprised. I still remember when his cameo in Sleepwalk With Me (2012) felt like a big deal because it was the first time I could go to see him in a movie, let alone among other comedians I enjoyed like Mike Birbiglia and Alex Karpovsky. Watching him develop actual success because of WTF had a profound impact on me, and it became as much about the guest as it was about feeling like you were supporting your friend through a hard time and realizing that, yes, life can get better. Even for those downtrodden by setbacks could garner respect and outlets for their ideas.

Which brings me to January 6, 2011. 

Depending on which side of my brain you ask, things were/n’t going great. This was during the peak of my days working for the Cypress College Media Network. I had a movie critic gig that, within three years, would have me attending Sundance. Along with a part-time job at a grocery store, everything was moving in the ideal direction for a career. I had friends with whom I would throw ideas around. We spent the weekend at movie theaters and hours afterwards talking about what we were doing next week. It was the ideal situation for somebody of that age. 

And yet, another part of me felt like I could’ve done better with those years. Part of it stemmed from an irrational temper that I like to think was well-managed, but likely informed my appreciation for transgressive art and dark humor. There was a resentment inside me that in some way was holding me back. I forgot to mention, but my college grades were plummeting by the semester, and by the end, I found myself giving up halfway through classes to the point I still feel remorse for the money my family wasted. Maybe this is all the byproduct of being young and lacking the discipline necessary for upper-level success, but “out of control” feels like a decent way to describe where my head was at. I couldn’t see the way forward.

Falling somewhere between distraction and cure were podcasts. Music served its purpose, but there was something radical about the medium. I believe that SModcast was the first show I actually listened to, given my admiration for Kevin Smith at the time. I formed an addiction and needed more. My tastes were initially formed by looking up iTunes’ Top 100 category lists and giving every new show a chance. I was also driven to A.V. Club’s Podmass column, where, for the first time, I found WTF. Given that this was early January and their Best of 2010 list included it among the recipients, it felt like as good a chance as any to dive in.

The episode in question is number 138 with Scott Carter from Real Time with Bill Maher. It would be false that I listened out of any interest for the HBO series. I was simply eager to expand my tastes. Sure, I could’ve gone one before with the more recognizable Bobby Lee, but the pros and cons in my tastes of podcasting are that I like being in the here and now. I like the immediacy of a show that was released last week. The idea of tailoring a show too much bothered me at the time, and for as much as this meant that certain programs had limited shelf lives, that made them all the more essential to understanding the moment.

It would be farcical to say I remember a thing Carter said. Short of subscribing to WTF+, I have no way of immediately revisiting it and trying to recall what 21-year-old me thought of Maron at that time. Still, with nothing better to do but listen to the buzziest shows of the moment, I added it to the playlist and awaited the next one. I didn’t really know who Maron was, but I would have plenty of time to find out before the next Podmass dropped.

More than the interviews, I found myself becoming drawn to Maron. Here was this anxious man who seemed desperate for meaning. The title was less designed to be confrontational and more a commentary on the show’s desire to be an existential debate on “what the fuck” life was all about. If you go far enough back, skits were attempting to break this idea down in ways that now feel overcomplicated. 

By the time I tuned in, it was mostly the equivalent of a therapist's couch where he spoke about his current worries of the time. Outside of stand-up gigs, there wasn’t much keeping him busy. Despite the differences in age and life choices, I related to where he was in 2011. We were both artists, basically working on shoestring levels to make sense of some greater career. He was further along than I was, but the roadblocks suggested a frustration that I had as a near beginner. Nobody was taking me seriously. Relationships (mine less matrimonial) had fallen apart, and all we had were cats and complicated family relationships.

If I had to pinpoint one moment, and I forget when it was, that made him feel like a kindred spirit, it came during that early exposure. As I drove to Cypress College for another day of forgettable lectures, he was on my car radio in the midst of taking an online survey that would diagnose his personality. The bemusement he had with the results spoke to something not dissimilar from what I would do at the time, which was find meaning in the vast emptiness of the world wide web. You want to read into coincidental rhetoric and believe it holds greater truth. Maron may have taken it less to heart, but our quests for meaning were copacetic. It was out there. We just had to find it.

To speed run through everything, I was so passionate about podcasting that I helped the media network transition to hour-long talk shows before graduating to podcasts that we recorded out of a friend’s house. I was more in it for the fun of creativity, but it became clear that my co-hosts were more driven by lucrative directions. I don’t fault them, and it appears to have worked out (one hosted a Comic Con panel last year), but it spoke to how differently our directions were. The initial show was called Nerd’s Eye View* and we covered weekly pop culture stories. Admittedly, I wasn’t the most charismatic presence, and it explained why I was reduced to a supporting role over time, but it remains one of the most worthwhile things I’ve done. It connected me to so many people and ideas that I still carry to this day. The show finished in 2016,  marking an impressive run closer to the better half of a decade.

*Speaking of Nerd’s Eye View, guess where that name came up…

In general, I think my life after 2015 has been a lot more productive. I’ve found a passion for writing short stories and novels, along with media criticism. Even as the eternal struggle of WTF remains present going into the next era of life, I’m still more optimistic than I was before, just because I have more of a drive and focus. I’ve even graduated from CSULB with a B.A. in Creative Writing. The fact that I would ever have pride in a collegiate and university system is something I couldn’t imagine a decade ago. I was so far down the hill that the journey felt daunting.

If there was a point to this farewell, it is how much Maron means to me as much personally as he does symbolically. He doesn’t know me. Outside of one fan e-mail that he may never respond to, I don’t exist to him. What I can say is that the show's disappearance is only in part because of his consistent dedication to quality and authenticity over that period. Despite his cranky behavior, he became less cynical as years went on and reminded me why I love him. He was about curiosity and digging into topics. Any cantankerous reply was his way of expressing concern and not outright dismissal. He welcomed outsiders, and the fact that they felt comfortable opening up to him is something aspirational. 

I feel like I know him, but more importantly, I feel inspired by what’s there. In a different timeline, Maron would’ve failed at his second chance. He’d still be working clubs, but never get the recognition some feel he deserves. Given how much of his career still feels D.I.Y., there is the sense that he’ll be fine post-podcast. He’ll find a way to survive and explore a new route. The fact that he symbolically told me it was okay to fail so long as we got up and tried again has given me more motivation than any self-help guru ever could. It’s okay to question your purpose and dwell on the dark times. It’s okay to find ways to turn it into art and, hopefully, by doing so, transcend the hold it has on you. By virtue of having guests, he also communicated that your struggles aren’t the only thing about you. There is art. There are people who want to share their dreams and maybe inspire something new in you. 

Maybe that is why Marc Maron hasn’t gone anywhere over the past 14 years. Over the nearly 2000 hours together, we bonded on a shared worldview. Even in 2025, as he says goodbye, he’s commenting on the state of comedy and the woes of his animals. He may have changed in a lot of ways, but he’s still very much the same guy. He may have never gotten to interview every member of The State, but at least he did so much else. It wasn’t perfect, but it was everything that I needed to keep going. Who knows where my head would be without WTF there twice a week, letting me know that Maron shit his pants. 

As everything comes to a close, I cry not only because there’s no more show, but because he’s one of those rare talents that connect me to an era of my life that is now decisively over. The fact that he interviewed Matt Groening in the final run feels painfully on the nose for this dyed-in-the-wool fan, but I’m still glad it’s out there. I’m glad he interviewed my English teacher, Robert Guffey, which I can now revisit whenever I miss that guy. I’m thankful to have gone on this journey with him because he’s one of the few who kept a level head the entire time. Nothing can last forever. It’s best that we appreciate it while it’s here.