The Anti-Holiday We Deserved

When Seinfeld aired “The Strike” on December 18, 1997, it didn’t just give us a few laughs. It handed us a cultural weapon. Festivus. A holiday for the rest of us. It was stripped down, angry, and hilarious. It was the anti-Martha Stewart. And at the center of it was Jerry Stiller, screaming at the top of his lungs about a doll he tried to buy for his son.

I am still a die-hard fan of the show. It is one of those rare lightning-in-a-bottle cultural moments that I never seem to get bored of, and I always have a quote ready to go. But my connection to Festivus goes deeper than just re-runs on TBS. I was lucky enough to have a brush with greatness. I interviewed the man himself, Jerry Stiller. And let me tell you, the guy was nothing like the character he played. He was better.

The K-Rock Days: Parker & Topher

Rewind a bit. I was working on “The Morning Show with Parker & Topher” on K-Rock. If you know anything about radio in that era, you know it was chaos. The studio smelled like stale coffee and ozone. We were constantly trying to out-edge the other guys on the dial. We weren’t just playing records; we were trying to make noise.

That year, we decided we were going to go all-in on Festivus. We weren’t going to give away cash or concert tickets. No, that would be too normal. We decided to give away aluminum poles to our listeners. High strength-to-weight ratio, naturally. No tinsel. Tinsel is distracting.

The bit was solid, but we needed a hook. We needed a guest. We reached out to Jerry Stiller’s people, fully expecting a “no” or maybe a polite decline from a publicist. Instead, we got the green light.

Meeting the Man Behind the Yell

Here is the thing about celebrity interviews in radio: they are usually a transaction. The star comes on for exactly 4 minutes and 50 seconds to plug a movie, they give you two canned funny answers, and they hang up. It is an assembly line.

I was nervous. I mean, this was Frank Costanza. I expected him to come on the line barking orders or maybe just being a grumpy old guy who didn’t get the joke.

I was dead wrong.

What surprised me about the interview was how much time Jerry Stiller gave us. Usually, 5 minutes is an eternity with a celebrity of his stature. We went on for 20 minutes. And it wasn’t just him tolerating us. He was engaged. He was funny. He told stories about the old days of comedy, about working with his wife Anne Meara, and about how he found the voice for Frank Costanza.

He explained that he wasn’t the first actor cast as Frank. It was originally John Randolph. But when Jerry came in, they told him to play it meek. He tried it in rehearsals and realized he was going to get fired if he didn’t do something different. So he decided to scream. He unleashed that inner rage we all have but suppress. The cast cracked up, and the rest is history.

He was incredibly humble. He spoke about the cast of Seinfeld with such reverence, like he was just lucky to be there, even though he was the one stealing every scene he was in.

The Phone Call That Changed Everything

The interview ended, we went to commercial, and we high-fived. Great segment. We moved on to the weather and traffic.

But then, something happened that never happens. My producer waved me down. “Jerry is on the other line,” he said. “He wants to talk to you.”

I thought I was in trouble. I thought maybe we crossed a line or made a joke that didn’t land. I picked up the phone, heart pounding.

“That was one of the best interviews I was ever involved with,” Jerry said. His voice was soft, kind. No yelling. Just a genuine human connection.

That really surprised me. In this industry, you get used to being treated like furniture. But Jerry Stiller took the time to call my personal cell phone—well, the studio line that patched to me—to say thank you. That is class. That is a level of professionalism and kindness that you just don’t see anymore.

We actually exchanged personal emails after that. We chatted on and off for a few years. He would send short, funny notes or ask how the show was doing. It wasn’t just a PR stunt. He was a real person.

Anatomy of the Perfect Festivus

Because of that interaction, Festivus isn’t just a meme to me. It is a reminder of that day. But let’s be honest, the holiday itself is a masterpiece of Gen X cynicism. If you are planning to celebrate this year (and you should), you need to get the details right. According to the canon—and the real history—here is what you need.

The Pole

Forget the Douglas Fir. You need an aluminum pole. In the show, Frank Costanza praises its “very high strength-to-weight ratio.” In real life, the holiday’s creator, Daniel O’Keefe (father of Seinfeld writer Dan O’Keefe), actually nailed a clock in a bag to the wall. He never explained why. He just said, “That’s not for you to know.” But for the TV version, the pole is iconic. It requires no decoration. It stands as a silent sentinel against consumerism.

The Airing of Grievances

This is my favorite part. It happens at dinner. You gather your family around and you tell them all the ways they have disappointed you over the past year. “I got a lot of problems with you people! And now, you’re gonna hear about it!”

Think about how ahead of its time this was. This was basically Twitter before Twitter existed. It was a safe space to be absolutely savage to the people you love. In the 90s, we didn’t repress our annoyance; we broadcast it.

Feats of Strength

The holiday is not over until the head of the household is pinned. This is the physical manifestation of all that holiday tension. In the episode, George runs away crying because he doesn’t want to fight his father. It is absurd, violent, and perfect. It mocks the forced masculinity of the era while giving us physical comedy gold.

Why Jerry Matters

Jerry Stiller passed away a few years ago, and I still think about him every December. He took a character that could have been a villain—a yelling, abusive, eccentric father—and made him lovable. You rooted for Frank Costanza because you could feel the humanity underneath the noise. You knew that he was yelling because the world confused him, and honestly, the world confuses all of us.

He was a class act in an industry full of fakes. He treated a couple of knucklehead radio DJs like we were The Tonight Show.

So this December 23rd, I will be putting up my aluminum pole. I will be airing my grievances (mostly about the price of streaming services and people who drive slow in the left lane). And I will be thinking about Jerry.

Happy Festivus, everyone. I got a lot of problems with you people, but Jerry Stiller wasn’t one of them.