I emceed another open mike last night. At the Funny Bone, they have a workshop, where aspiring comics and road dogs try out new material, hoping for feedback to improve said joke. A girl got up tonight and did a well rehearsed poem about getting nailed that went on for four minutes. Later, a ventroloquist did a routine with an egg character, ala Humpty Dumpty. Game on.
The show was rather unremarkable, though. The egg man, who told everyone at the workshop that he “did comedy for a living” bailed pre-show and didn’t perform. The raunchy chick went up and did a terrifying rant about being sexually degraded and sodomized with her consent. It single-handedly set back the women’s movement 40 years. I grabbed the mike post-poem and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the long forgotten white chick from 2 Live Crew. I don’t know whether to be aroused or roll around in Purell.” I am rather conflicted by doing lines like that. It is awesome, but I still feel I may be attacked after the show. Luckily, I am used to being attacked, having hung out in dives and dumps, so I think I can only be shot in the shoulder, which makes for great material. I am an artist first, after all.