Saturday, September 06, 2003  

Thanks to everyone who came out to the show at the Acton Jazz Cafe last night. Oh, wait. None of you fuckers did. Well, you didn't miss much. I had a great time, but boy oh boy, did the crowd* give poor Greg and Chris a hard go of it. It was like the first 10 minutes of Saving Private Ryan. Just when did jazz patrons stop being hipsters and start being suburbanites? There was very little of the Lenny Bruce-itude I was hoping for, but there was some free Wild Turkey, so all in all, a pretty happy night.

No gigs tonight, as my September calendar is spotty enough to really, really make me wonder what the fuck I've done with my life. Heard about another club closing (the Aku in Worcester), so the Boston comedy scene's long march towards becoming one huge open mike ghetto continues apace. Replacing high-paying professional gigs, even shitty ones, with more coffeehouses and bringer shows, even good ones, is bad for all of us. The point of open mikes is to get good enough to get paid work...not to get good enough to start your own open mike, dig? (Caveat - that's exactly what Peter Dutton did, and he's landed some pretty goddamned good management because of it, so feel free to dump my ravings in the "bitter old comic" file). Note: the preceding link doesn't go to the Peter Dutton of whom I speak, but I just giggled for a solid 10 seconds at the guy who unabashedly calls himself a "Federal member for Dickson," and I figure anyone that impervious to penis puns deserves the link.

Less than a week until the Naked Comedy Show (henceforth NCS). It's a private gig, so I won't post many details, but some other local comics and I will be performing for nudists next Friday, and in the spirit of the event, we shall all be doing comedy sans clothing. Actually, I think the group is a little freakier than nudists, but definitely shy of swingers, but either way, I couldn't turn down the chance for a once in a lifetime hell gig. I haven't decided if I'll be attending the potluck before the show. Naked comedy = carpe diem. Naked potluck = creepy, somehow. "Hey, Bill...nice cock! And GREAT GOULASH!"



*For purposes of this story, "crowd" shall be defined as 6 50-year old women, assorted bar staff, 3 tables of yuppies, and a MILF and her two 17-year old kids.