FERB YOUR ENTHUSIASM (25)

By: Lydia Millet
March 25, 2021

One in a series of 25 enthusiastic posts, contributed by 25 HILOBROW friends and regulars, on the topic of our favorite animated TV series.

BOB’S BURGERS | LOREN BOUCHARD | 2011–PRESENT

A Bob is a regular guy. He’s American, first off, and he doesn’t put on airs — there’s no high-fallutin’ Roberting for him. Your typical Robert is a different man altogether. They may have the same thing written on their birth certificates, but after that, at some point, they diverge. A select few Bobbys turn into Roberts, such as among the Kennedys. But your average Bobby turns into a Bob. Never the twain shall meet.

The basic Bob is working class, solid, reliable, and often jovial, though you can also find an unreliable Bob here or there. Possibly selling cars or insurance. A flimsy Bob who uses his Bobness as a foil. Still, you’d be hard put to find a more quintessentially trustworthy American moniker.

So, too, with the burger — a classic, über-American foodstuff. (So American I hesitated to even put the umlaut on “uber” right there.) Traditionally made of mushed-up cow, easy to cook, round, greasy, unhealthy, unpretentious. What does a Bob eat? A burger, of course.

In Bob’s Burgers, simply and brilliantly named, we have a double shot of American archetype.

And in the venerable tradition of U.S. sitcoms that celebrate and/or poke fun at the working family, Bob’s Burgers is hands-down my favorite. Partly because it’s well conceived and written and excellently voice acted. Partly because it manages to be edgy, with its sex-crazed Tina and scatological, drama queen Gene, but still nostalgic: the whole family pitches in to sustain their restaurant business, with the kids grumbling but finally upholding a certain, increasingly quaint notion of filial duty.

But mostly because of the gentleness and intelligence of its namesake father.

Sure, Bob has the some of the curmudgeonly qualities of the blunt object known as Homer Simpson. Along with a dose of the wage-slave poignancy of Hank in King of the Hill, since money, in Bob’s Burgers, is always tight. But unlike Homer and Hank he’s also a self-aware and thoughtful presence, with strong moral fiber and a devotion to his wife and children that’s humble, authentic, and nearly utopian.

For Bob isn’t upwardly mobile. His competition in the marketplace is almost nonexistent, despite a longstanding rivalry with Jimmy Pesto, his neighboring restaurateur across the street who, unlike Bob, has designs on social prizes like yacht-club membership. Bob has no such ambitions. He’s resigned to a kind of economic stasis that rejects the maximization of profits in favor of what he loves.

Unlike American dads, especially in live-action sitcoms, whose striving is constantly stymied by the burden of family in what we’re often asked to see as a form of middle-class male martyrdom, Bob adores his work as well his family. He doesn’t need his business to expand. He cherishes his grill as an artist might cherish a brush or palette or particular color of paint. Bob has troubles and worries, as all of us do. But Bob also knows contentment.

What Bob wants to do is this: keep his family happy and safe. Be a decent citizen. And make good burgers.

Bob has found his calling.

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MORE ENTHUSIASM at HILOBROW

FERB YOUR ENTHUSIASM (25)

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