:: How MASH became The Office
	
	by David Hoppe   
	 I woke up the other day realizing an entire  entertainment genre has gone the way of the dodo bird.  
    Whatever happened to the service comedy? 
    Unless you were born in the couple of decades after  World War II, the odds are you don’t know what I’m talking about. But from the  1950’s through the early ‘70s, comedies about serving in our country’s armed  forces were a go-to form of popular diversion. 
    There was the Phil  Silvers Show, better known as Sgt.  Bilko, about a haplessly scheming noncom; McHale’s Navy, which made serving on a PT Boat seem like an endless  frat party; The Wackiest Ship In the Army,  with a title that pretty much explains itself; and, of course, Hogan’s Heroes, a long-running series  that made being a prisoner of war look like summer camp. 
    The genre reached a kind of pinnacle with the mordant  movie, MASH, about a hospital unit in  Korea, which was then recycled as one of the most popular TV series of all  time. For its final episode, in 1983, MASH’s television version attracted 125 million viewers, making it the most-watched  single television episode in history at that time. 
    Service comedies were about making the best of bad  situations. You took a bunch of guys (they were predominantly guys, since it  was uncommon for women to serve) and put them in a setting not of their  choosing. Things that were supposed to be organized weren’t, which created  plenty of openings for personal resourcefulness (aka hijinx) aimed at creating  a semblance of normalcy in conditions that might otherwise be construed as  crazy. Service comedies championed nonconformists. They promoted the idea that  a person’s best defense might be a sense of humor.   
    It occurred to me, at first, that the volunteer army  accounted for service comedies’ fall from favor. When people have to serve  whether they want to or not — what you get with a draft — humor seems more  available. Our volunteer military emphasizes sacrifice. Under these circumstances,  the goldbrick, a soldier always looking for an easy way out, is not an  absurdist hero, but a dangerous liability. Not funny. 
    But then I began to see that the service comedy hasn’t  gone away so much as morphed into something else. Stories that used to play out  in military settings have migrated to the workplace. 
    We may not be drafted into the world of work, but  let’s face it: in this society it’s get a job, or else. Work is what almost all  of us do; but only the lucky can claim to love it. 
    Americans, we are told, take fewer vacations, retire  later, and work more hours. Compared to our peers in other industrialized  countries, we work more, period. 
No wonder, then, instead of  service comedies, we watch shows like The  Office, Parks and Recreation, and Scrubs (a peacetime MASH). The characters in these various  workplaces — their schemes, longings, delusions of grandeur and, most of all,  cock-eyed attempts to try and make life a little more bearable — are instantly  recognizable. Only the uniforms have changed.
  
	
        
	  
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