Some dude at Scene Magazine e-mailed me after seeing video of me performing stand up comedy in a bathtub to a bunch of delighted weirdoes. How he got ahold of that video is anyone's guess. Maybe one of the transsexual escorts in the back pages is a fan.
The only guideline he gave me for the comedy issue was to "just not talk about how cool Cleveland comedy is.”
First, I’ll talk about whatever the hell I want and I don't give a shit about spelling. Second, performing in a bathtub at Comedy Bathroom was not an artistic choice made by me. My artistic choices usually include air conditioning. This bathroom was hot, crowded, and they didn't even clean that tub -- there were pubes everywhere and it smelled like dirty underwear was dropped into whatever an immigrant was boiling. DID I MENTION THERE WAS A SECLUDED PORCH WITH AMPLE SEATING AVAILABLE? It was a cool August night and everybody enjoying the music was being tickled by a gentle, loving breeze. I know because that's where everybody was until the comedy portion of the show was announced, when 30 drunk college students crammed into the restroom. It was both bathroom humid and drunk person sweating humid. It was disgusting; it was like the poor hygiene of 30 children slow roasted and then sent itself into my mouth. Again, not my artistic choice. Nor any reasonable human's with a functioning olfactory system.
I am sorry, but that is not really how we’ve been doing comedy here in Cleveland. I get that your mustache is twirly and that you dress like my grandma did during the Depression and that this is your world now, but it may take a little time to adjust as the audience changes hands. Cleveland used to be for guys with unreasonable alimony and people on the run from the law. It’s America’s second wife city, where the mistakes you made in Michigan won't come back to haunt you. That’s why Cleveland is great for me: I get paid in appetizers and have trouble relating to fancy people with exotic cocktails in their hand and regular dental visits in their calendar. To me, comedy is always more satisfying if there is a decent chance you will get stabbed.
You miss a lot of great stuff by being too chickenshit to drink on Tuesday, but none of it is really “cool.” One night we did a poll and 100% of the audience had been to jail (including the comedians). One time I made a prostitute laugh so hard she showed everyone her panties. On the house! I haven't seen these people in awhile though. They are probably dead or in rehab.
Crazy stuff is happening less and less as the audience slowly gets younger and properly medicated (THANKS BIG PHARMA!). Audiences nowadays seem to have been “raised right," plus their pants are too tight to cause any real trouble.
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