I don't care for stand-up comedy!
I don't know... I think I'm just way too bitter of a guy to allow some jester/buffoon to make me crack a smile -it annoys me. (Leave me alone, what do you want from me?!)
I'm too angry and way too accustomed to not letting people see me smile to indulge in stand-up. In fact, the mere suggestion of anyone trying to pry the yucks out of me is downright offensive. When I want to laugh, I'll make myself laugh!
(Believe you me, there's more than plenty to laugh about at my life...)
Having said that, I find that comedians are brilliant people (besides being somewhat neurotic and considerably angry, like myself sans the brilliance.) According to my psychiatrist, a sense of humor is the clearest cut sign of intellect. It is because of this that -to me- the advent of the podcast is probably one of the greatest mediums of the new world. I can listen to two (or more) comedians just yenta-it-up for an hour or two because I love listening to witty, introspective conversation and animated storytelling. If there is but one unifying trait of all reasonably successful comics besides intellect, it is wit.
In 1990, Andrew "Dice" Clay was the biggest stand-up on the planet. Dice had been putting in work since 1978, though not in the "Dice Man" persona yet. He mostly did impressions and characters, amongst those characters was a Fonzie-esque bit that very well may have been the early precursor to the "Dice" shtick. His 1989 debut album Dice went gold, which used to mean something, and one year later Clay became the first comedian to sell-out Madison Square Garden two nights in a row. He was the embodiment of the "Rock N' Roll Comic", nevermind that hump Kinison. I never got Kinison's shtick anyways! But Dice, on the other hand, was a fucking supernova! Just think of his dirty nursery rhymes as an example! When had anybody before ever seen a comedian who would setup the jokes and the audience would deliver the punchlines in unison? It was unheard of!
... and then he got cocky!
In February of 1990, produced by Rick Rubin, the Dice Man released a double live album that was recorded during an unannounced show at a small venue over the preceding Christmas holiday -a 'word-of-mouth' spot at Dangerfield's on First Avenue in NYC. Not only did the Dice Man not announce the show, he did near 2 hours on stage without any prepared material whatsoever -NO SAFETY NET!
Did you grasp that? I said, TWO HOURS WITH ZERO MATERIAL PREPARED!!! Take it from someone who has gotten up on a stage more than a handful of times; to get up there for a mere 5 minutes with no material would seem like a nightmarish eternity, but Dice did two fucking hours! Let that marinate for a second.
The Day The Laughter Died accomplished something that no other comedy album or televised special has in a very long time... it made me laugh out loud! Not only that, but too further illustrate its comedic potency, it made me laugh out loud just prior to my separation/divorce; in other words, even under barren grey skies the Diceman had me howling, tearing up in laughter. I sat on the front porch of what was soon to be a broken home the night that I revisited this '8th Grade-throwback' with my headphones on for two hours without moving as I listened to it. Who would have ever convinced me that "the Dice Man's" shtick would provide solace for a wailing soul?
The album has a great pace to it, probably attributable to Dice having to take subtle pauses between every line (as he tries to figure out the next words out of his mouth.) Also, Rubin does a great job of capturing the small club vibe. You can almost envision the presumably smoky scene in your mind as you listen. Dice goes through the entire set without having to want for a lit Marlboro as you can physically hear him taking his stylistically exaggerated drags off of his cigarettes. The clinging ice cubes in the drinks of the club patrons heard faintly in the background is a nice touch too, lending even more atmosphere to this presumable comedy classic.
His crowd-work is fantastic, and it feels as if most of the material came from goofing on those in attendance! He berates the audience, prompting many to walk out on him during his performance, a display with which Dice takes major umbrage with an addresses hilariously. Dice's material runs the gamut here from brilliant to downright cringeworthy; but yet you can't stop listening. I recall one particular bit about Native Americans that did not extract a single laugh, instead inspiring a gasping silence from the audience. I myself cringed so hard I almost shattered my teeth!
I don't know that Dice's shit would wash in the hyper politically correct age that we live in. Dice is from a time in space that humanity will never be able to get back to - I'm referring to when we had a sense of humor. Sure, there's elements of misogyny, sexism and racial stereotypes in his work; but "Dice", as such, is just a character very much in the way that Andy Kaufman was a character ( Kaufman was a stupid one, but one no less). Clay's facade of the Brooklyn mook from Sheep's Head Bay is should be ridiculously obvious. Only a nimrod would not find it apparent that it's a caricature -or perhaps even the stand-up version of method acting. True, Dice is more male-oriented humour (ooh, humour with a 'u', how European), but that's okay! I mean, for Thoth sake, can men have their secret lodge where we can practice a little misogyny strictly for cathartic purposes?! It's okay for broads to have their 'men-are-from-Mars' shit but we can't get a couple of shits-and-giggles from some blow-job jokes without having to get #ME TOO tattooed on our taint?
This comedy album is highly recommended for some get-high shit. I strongly advise a fat spliff of some dank ass weed, a set of headphones, and then following this link to Youtube where you can viddy well, little droogies, viddy well. A 10mg dose of Diazepam (or 5mg on an empty stomach) would also go very well with the ambience of this recording and I highly recommend it (even though I substituted Diazepam with 1.5mg of Ativan.) This entertainment recommendation is especially advisable now that the Grim Reaper is hovering above us again, wearing a ridiculous blonde wig and an Estee Lauder spray tan, preparing to unleash a giant COVID-saturated sneeze over America and a second lockdown (a more draconian one at that) is imminent. You're going to be needing more great entertainment suggestions from your droog and narrator to pass quarantine, such as the one I made back in March when the Black Plague Redux first popped off, and this one here is a great start. Think of it as a comedy album that "sounds black and white"! Think of it as comedic art! As Dice himself says on this record "this isn't about laughter, this is about comedy." Does that make sense?! To me, it absolutely does!
That's all I've got for now... My pseudo-journalist member feels like it has been thoroughly stroked to completion for the time being. And so, as I once again shoot my load into the web, further infecting the internet with my completely unsolicited cyber-gonorrhea, I continue to indulge and fulfill this silly notion that I have legitimate opinions on certain things and someone out there cares to read them. Whether it is to your delight or to your chagrin, that remains to be determined. If the latter is the case, then don't you wish that you could email the Coronavirus to me so that maybe I'd fucking die? Hypothetically speaking, if this was possible, you can infect me by sending the strain of COVID that you isolated from your mother's cunt to the official Misanthropaganda email addy, which is:
misanthropaganda@yahoo.com?
Or, on the other hand, if you can't wait to see what bullshit I'll come up with next, follow me on the 'Gram for updates on new posts. Search for me, and ye will find me at:
misanthropaganda_blogspot
No comments:
Post a Comment