I had a sucky temp job once. Which is kind of like an oxymoron. Don’t all temp jobs suck? Yes, yes they do. And when I say I had one temp job that sucked, I mean 20. Which means I’ve been berated in a myriad of colorful ways, from being told “Today, I own you” by a woman with a really, really, flat head…..to being accused of purposely not stocking non-dairy creamer by a small, itchy man who was convinced my mission in the world was to make sure that he be deprived of milky-good coffee. And let me tell you, he was right. Well not then, but right after that, yes. Ha ha ha! Complain again, Mr. Itch, and taste the full power of the black bean! <--*maniacal laughter ensues*. The good news about temp jobs: They end. They always end. The clue is right there in the title, “temp”, short for “temporary” and/or “ha ha suckers, put covers on your OWN TPS reports…and bite me!” But this show, this LCS2 show, is something that is never ending. Never. We are here tonight for the should-be-final-show, and yet…we are not at the final show. We are in week 3 of the finals of the finals of the final show(s). *sigh* Let us pick someone already!
Tonight we’ll be rifling through five comics.....and Jay London, in order to send one to the ultimate victory! The Ultimate Kickboxing champion! Or actually, the Last Comic Standing, where they will receive accolades, bragging rights, and a large heavy chrome belt with FUNNY on it. Oh yes, wouldn’t that be nice? Only to me: yes.
Disclaimer: All those that think I slammed Jay London above, please…shhh. Hush now. I saw a joke opening, and I dashed for it. Ran! Ran to it like one might run into a lover’s arms across a field of daisies. Me and the joke…are one.
Jay Mohr let’s us know the scoop. We’re here, we’re ready for the ha ha's, so let’s bring out the peeps. And for once he does not regale us with witticisms and funny little jokes. But he’s still all beefy jerky and twitches a lot, which is amusing in and of itself. He forces all the comics out onto the stage, where I am surprised to see all the men (sans Jay) wearing really, swanky, suits. Niiice, dudes. Sweet ! I admire their suity goodness, and note that even little leprechaun-lovin’ Kathleen is suited up. In fact, the only non-suit wearers are Tammy, who’s wearing a 70’s, droopy, bunched up tube top and an enormous flower on her left yabbo, and Jay, who is wearing a tiny tutu over a shiny, orange unitard. Okay, no he’s wearing overalls. But I want him to switch it up for once. Maybe HE should wear Tammy’s tube top.
When All Else Fails, Be the Same, Be Exactly the Same
Jay London is up first, and in his clip, we get two shots of him: one during competition time in the house, and another during the last round of Wild Cards, where we see evidence that his hair has literally tripled in volume (I know this, because I paused my tape, went up to the screen, and measured it with my own hands, to demonstrate my point to my foolishly disbelieving, hair-bet-losing friend.)
In his clip, he says he feels the sweet, sweet lovin’ that he never knew was possible, and says he’s in a whole new ballpark. The ballpark where the world cuddles you in their warm, burrito-tight embrace. Which sounds like a ballpark I would enjoy. He thanks everyone for letting them into his home without the alarm system on.
On stage: Within the first three seconds, Jay let’s out his first “thank you” and I can’t contain myself another second and I yell out, “holy *bad word* come ON!!!” Please, no! Stop it! Discontinue, por favor!! The rest of his act is punctuated by tons of repetition, and “am I bothering you?” and “let me move over here” and “you’ll never have to see me again” (we can hope!) and “This is death.” Yes, Jay, it is! It is death leaping through the woods with a sickle and he’s not happy! And I am ready to toss you to him! Okay, not really (I actually like Jay as a human and pet and even a comic, *gasp*.....but I can’t see it over and over and over and over again. No. I cannot. I cannot and I will not. I will not see it on my screen, I will not laugh and will likely scream. I will not eat green eggs and ham, Sam I am.) So he does the same old same old and I can’t NOT comment. (Double negative…score one for my inner grammar queen!! She likes fajitas.) Here are a few (not all) of his one liners: He told his therapist he was having nightmares about nuclear explosions, and she said it’s not the end of the world. He was pulled over by the coast guard for being intoxicated and he was made to get out and walk on water. Then he says he’s being looked at like he’s on the discovery channel, yada yada evolutionary chart joke and the audience claps in a very, “we think you’re fluffy!” kind of way. Pardon his appearance, he’s under renovation. He made an attempt on his life, at least he tried. He just came back from a freak of nature walk. He eulogized the founder of tear gas, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. After a few more one liners, he finally pops out with his first refreshing departure, and says, “I'm getting high right after this, it doesn't matter.” The audience screams with laughter, and I say, “thank God.” He’s doing everything with the Discover Card until they Discover he can’t pay for it. More jokes, more one liners, and he finishes with, “I had a very lonely New Year’s, I watched my own balls drop.” Now THAT made me laugh. Ha! But maybe, just maybe, I just like jokes about balls.
*sigh* Nice guy, good guy, a little too googly-eyed over his master, Todd Glass, but overall: good. He’s Mr. Suity Suit and his clip talks about how he can only pay attention to the audience directly in front of him, and not the fact that he’s performing for millions more at home. He only cares about making them laugh, and hopes that osmosis brings the laughter on down to ye all at home. He thinks winning would be, like, “ the coolest thing ever.” It so WOULD<-- I wholeheartedly agree (revealing one of my many biases). He grins widely, goofily, but nicely, and says, “I want to be the Last Comic Standing. Literally.” And then laughs and says, “no, not literally, but as far as the show goes.” Before his disclaimer, I picture him going Tonya Harding and sweepin’ the legs of his competition, putting them all on peg legs (because people SO still use peg legs! They’re everywhere!)
Gary’s act: He talks about being lucky to be employed as a comic. He used to do the 9 to 5 thing. What’s the worst thing about the 9 to 5 thing? The 9. Aha! I laugh merrily and my tired diet-Coke drinking body agrees. He hates the snooze button because of it’s extremely stingy 9 minute allotment. Now, 90 minutes, that’s a snooze, but 9? No. Amen, brother. He jokes that ten minutes would have been overkill and that the extra 60 seconds would have made him groggy. He had a roomie who was addicted to the snooze button and would start at six a.m. …..and stop at four p.m. The roomie always apologized and asked him if it bothered him. Did it? “Oh no of course not, I wake up every nine minutes on my own. That's my own natural rhythm, that's my thing. I didn't even wake up. In fact, I thought I had a dream where school buses were backing up every nine minutes for seven hours, but that was you. Huh." He starts discussing elementary school and the safety scissors that won’t cut anything, and how the teacher always kept them locked in the bottom drawer, while letting the giant “could chop off a cow’s head” paper cutter unattended. He ponders why there are ads for milk, “who are they targeting with these ads? People unaware of milk? People sitting at home oblivious to this drink, and sitting at home mesmerized?” He finishes with a long lament over the sugar cookie, and it’s apparent lameness in his eyes. He questions the cookie itself and asks it if it’s seen the cookie aisle, and the orange frosting Oreos available at Halloween time? And we can tell Gary timed his act precisely, as the mic is cut off right before he inevitably mouths “thank you.”
John Heffron’s skin looks sallow. All pale and waxy and nervous. Why is he nervous? Oh why? Hmmm….could it be…gnomicide!?!?!?!?!?!!! <---echo, echo, echo. Ha! I have not forgotten! Be safe, Gnomie! *in Daniel Day Lewis’s voice, “I will find you!” But back to John....the killer. He talks about winning LCS in a very casual, almost “I don’t care” kind of way. He finishes with the fact that it would be cool, everybody would know who you were, and you’d have an awesome title and bragging rights.
John’s act: He talks about going to a dance club and finding yourself at that point in life where you wonder, “am I the too-old-to-be-here guy?” You can tell you’re too old when you see someone dancing on a table and worry about them getting hurt. He would love a bar for people his age, like a roller skating rink that serves alcohol. Instead of calling out an “all skate", the DJ could yell out a “recently-divorced-and-bitter-skate,” and a “on-the-rebound-and-backwards” skate. He mocks younger men for not knowing much about the ladies and crowding around them at bars. He demonstrates it by standing wide-legged with his back to us, and tells the guys they might as well whip it out and pee on their territory right there. He then says the biggest mistake the young dudes make is putting their back to the room where they can’t see the “we-gotta-go-girl.” (WGGG for short.) Apparently in every group of girls, there’s a WGGG who’s the gatekeeper to your future night of sexin’ it up. Apparently she pops around right after you’ve done all your time and are about to hopefully get laid. The WGGG casts the deciding vote. He compares women to the marines when they go to the bars, “they don’t leave anybody behind, five girls go into the bar, five girls leave the bar,” he mimes the girls heading back into the room and drop kicking men side to side as they beat a path to their friend, “Come on, Kim, let’s go!” he shouts into the room. He says that whenever a guy sees the WGGG it’s like a slow mo horror flick and he mimes a slow mo approach to the girl, telling us that the girl you’re hitting on always says she needs to ask a friend to stay, and he laments, “man, that vote has NEVER gone my way.” He finishes by saying that if there were a guy equivalent to the WGGG, that the men could never be pulled away from the potentiality of getting laid, “hey, dude, I want to go, I need a ride.” Man: “You need a ride? You’re walkin’! I might be getting laid!” All clap, including his now-wife in the audience (and I remember when he was just a baby! A big, gnome chucking, baby. Actually I just remember that at the onset of this show, he was a fiancé and not a hubby. That is all. I still like John. Mostly.) Conclusion: his set was okay, and I attribute it's okayness to his extreme remorse over Gnomie.
The Secret Honey Mustard Section
Kathleen stands back stage holding a clip board with, “Alonzo’s jokes, do not open, very top secret” written on it, as if to mime her nerves over her upcoming material. In her clip, she acknowledges never going up in a head to head competition and that it’s possible that she just looks like the crazy lady in the house. She never participated anything, and seemed to only make hot dogs. She jokes about the whole prize in winning being her trip to the Today show to meet Willard Scott, which is apparently a life long dream. Amen sister, I’m counting down the days to my own Willard-y good encounter. *high fives Kathleen*
Katheen's act: She says Canada is like our attic, you forget about it, but once you get up there you’re like, “wow, look at all this stuff!” She talks about preferring girls to boys, because teenage girls freak out at the slightest thing, you ask them if they locked the front door and they respond with, “why does everyone think I’m fat?” She’s disappointed that they’re thinking of not making today’s children take the SAT’s, and she thinks it’s ridiculous, because if she had to pay $68 to prove she was an idiot, “you make those kids do it too! Kill the dream! Don’t make them believe that all kinds of impossible stuff is going to happen. ‘I’m gonna be a doctor!’ No you’re not, you’re going to wait tables and tell jokes next to Kathleen in group B.” She discusses the horrors of waiting tables and illustrates the stupidity of many of the diners via their completely inane questions. I.e. after she lists off a bunch of dressings in which honey mustard is not an option, a patron says, “do you have honey mustard?” And she says, “Did you hear me SAY honey mustard? No, sir, I’m only telling certain tables about certain dressings tonight and you’re not in the honey mustard section.” She talks about her younger stockbroker brother pestering her about planning for the future. Does she have one? Yes. She’s practicing writing with her opposite hand in case she has a stroke. She also hates science because she just doesn’t get it and wants to believe whatever the heck A&E says about anything. Aliens? Sure she’ll believe it, but her brothers insist there’s no proof. She points out that they might just be smarter than us, and that FISH don’t know WE’RE here and yet we’re snaggin’ them right and left. She imagines the ocean to be full of missing fish posters, and that when one gets tossed back, you know the other fish don’t believe the stories on where he’s been. She finishes with a joke about the election, and Kerry’s secret weapon: his wife. Because she’s in charge of ketchup, and all he’d have to do to campaign is wait one day prior to the election, and showcase a commercial in which he says, “I don’t want to do this, but if you don’t vote for me, I’m taking away all the ketchup.” Annd her set is done, and all laugh and clap, including Camryn Manheim, who sports the banner “Kathleen’s friend.”
Tattoni’s and Whores
Tammy prays backstage before we see the clip in which she tells us her entire goal: to take her millions, stockpile arms, and build an enormous robot nation. Or actually, to place in the finals. She says she needed to do something (legal) to take her family to the next level of luxury, the luxury where she can trade in her Camaro for a sound-proof Thunderbird. She knows that whether she wins or loses, her momma will give her a hug. But she’ll be honored if she wins.
Tammy’s act: For some reason when she walks out, she gets some crazy disco 70’s music. I can only attribute this to her tube top. The tube top holds the power. The first thing she does is say she wants to talk about the show. She immediately launches into her portrayal as this crazy Sicilian and says that perhaps it’s the reason they don’t let Sicilian’s on Survivor: it’s a tiny island and there are no cops. It would be over in one episode: all the people buried up to their neck in sand with a hairy (not a word I will type) screaming out, “I’m a millionaire!” (Disclaimer, I think she used a slur here, but I’m not sure, and since I’m not all about the slur, unless it comes from drunkenness, I will not type said word.) She says they’re giving away 50,000 bucks at the end of the contest, and if she doesn’t win, she’s going home with the money anyway. She talks about how she called her sister-in-law a whore on national television and then says, “that’s it, there’s no joke, just telling you in case you missed that episode.” Her father called her up and chastised her for the name-calling and warned that the sister-in-law was litigious (except Tammy doesn’t use that word, I do). Tammy thinks it’s no problemo, because first her sister-in-law has to prove she’s not a whore, so………..problem solved! She talks a bit about Janet Jackson’s “tattoni” (breast) popping out at the Super bowl and how Janet herself talks to us like we’re idiots with the malfunction garbage. She says she’s been dressing herself for over a decade and never once did her tattoni pop out in front of her grandma over dinner. She talks about people spotting her in public and saying she either looks better or worse than she does on TV, and says she doesn’t care because, “look who set the precedent: Roseanne and Paula Poundstone. I win.” She finishes with a bit about performing comedy at the Playboy mansion where she saw Paris Hilton, and says, “I’m proud of her, she’s breaking down barriers. Proving you don’t have to be poor to be white trash.” Tammy ended up getting knocked off a trampoline at the party and fell so hard she worried she’d be injured and her parents would get a call telling them she’d been paralyzed. When asked what she’d been doing, they’d be told, “she was drunk on a trampoline at the Playboy mansion,” and her parents would respond with, “leave the whore there.” On time and under budget, Tammy finishes with mucho laughs from the audience.
Mosey Isn’t a Speed
Alonzo looks fierce and says he’s gonna be funny, he’s gonna, “tear it up,” and “destroy the room” and “aim the warhead” and “shoot the missile” and other war analogies that he may or may not have used. He says that being named the Last Comic Standing would validate his entire career. It’s personal, and he wants it. Boy howdy, does he want it. (Without using the words, “boy howdy,” as he is not a “boy howdy” kind of man.)
Alonzo’s act: He’s jazzed about LCS because it’ll lead to better gigs. He recently did a gig at the University of Southern Alabama and says the “southern” part of the name scared an LA/New York guy like himself. He doesn’t like the south where “mosey” is a speed. His Alabama cabbie said, “we’re gonna mosey on down to the airport,” and his response is, “no, how about we hurry the hell up and get to the airport. It’s getting dark around here, and there’s a lot of trees around. I’ve heard rumors.” He starts talking about Iraq and how we took over an oil producing country, so why is it that the price of gas going up? He knows we went there for Saddam and the weapons, and doesn’t understand why we didn’t grab a few gallons on the way. He says you don’t take over something and not use it, “you never saw a car jacker walking.” He starts talking about illegal aliens and Arnold speaking out about it, saying, “you know what, Arnold, you ain’t exactly from around here.” He thinks illegal aliens are great for sneaking into the country and doing crappy jobs that nobody else wants to do for almost no money. Why would we want to get rid of that? He thinks we could use more because, “there are still a few jobs I don’t feel like doing.” He talks about how in California, they sneak in to pick fruit and vegetables, and says, “who else is gonna do it? Black people, we ain’t pickin’ nothing. We have served our pickin’ time.” He says white people couldn’t do it if they wanted to, because just standing in the sun gives white folks cancer. He then does a bit about being unbothered by gay marriages because all he thinks about is how it affects him. People argue that gay marriage means people will someday go nuts and marry their pets. “Again, how does this affect me? If you’re crazy enough to marry your dog, then keep him off my lawn, that's all I'm saying.” He finishes with a bit about how people are really not all that different, and says that when a black athlete is articulate, white people are surprised, and when a white person even makes the team, black people are surprised. The audience laughs merrily and he finishes with, “I can do that joke here. I tried it in southern Alabama, and I’m lucky I got away before they figured it out.”
And this concludes your regular broadcast. All the comics stand on stage while spotlights chase them and spin crazily in the same way they do when beckoning people to a bar or a used car sale.
Up next: The final three…revealed! And the show…it lasts longer, and longer, and longer, just like Juicy Fruit. Without the juiciness.
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