Nothing beats wet breasts...even in comedy.

So "The Co-Governors of Space" made an audience laugh heartily last night. And it was all very satisfying, deep laughter. But more than laughter there was surprise and wonder. Then after we presented our 7 minute sketch, someone else came out and presented laughter that was based on something I've seen a thousand times. That would be, either a child or an old person saying something precocious. Precocious doesn't do it for me anymore. Adults playing children rarely does it for me anymore. Now pepper in with that laughter, the fact that they were three pretty blonde girls ACTING like little girls. Four judges penises prick up. One judges penis stays still. But he likes the kitsch, the fetishism of pretty blonde girls acting like little girls.
Next, the dancing...oh the dancing! Why do women always dance in their "best" sketches? And it's always the "funniest" time to dance when it's kids or the elderly or the retarded that are dancing...you know people who don't normally dance like they do on BET.
So far we've got a slumber party followed by a drill team routine. I personally, already knew we'd lost this contest to jailbait. Because audiences fall for it because they've seen it before because every female comedian who fits in the category of mediocre has done this sketch with minor tweaks, be it the environment or the circumstances at which the scene begins. It's the same scene. It's Molly Shannon who I could never stand and all her followers who realized that as long as nobody catches them being unoriginal, they're safe to keep doing it.
Don, I'm telling your wife. There's no way she would have thought what they did was intelligent, memorable, clever or funny. She may have thought, as my wife and my colleague Iva thought, that scenes like that put women in comedy back ten years and women in general back even further. Because those are the types of women that let men feel big and strong and make women appear to have gone back to the kitchen, bedroom and laundryroom.
Then they poured water on their shirts. Cheap and easy. You want five men to vote for you? Be a blond in a wet t-shirt. Or better yet, be three of them.
Well at least the seven minutes is up...what? You mean, they can just go on until their done? Well we had fourteen minutes of material prepared, maybe we should have done all of it. Apparently the time limit was just a suggestion. They clocked in at over nine minutes.
Then cliche' was added to cliche' when, for no good reason, nothing that advanced the scene anyway, a stereotype of an ebonic speaking "hood" dweller, walked on and made some wisecracks.
Now, don't get me wrong. I was under no illusions at anytime. When I saw them walk on stage dressed the way they were and carrying identical buckets, I knew we had lost the competition because that's what people fall for. I just had hoped that the judges wouldn't be swayed so easily.
Our show was a half-live have filmed sketch leading into another sketch. The night was for sketch and improv. There was no indication that it was live sketch that was required. Ours was sketch. It was just that half of it was on tape. Oh and our female is an investment banker with a deeply intelligent and sardonice sense of humor who wouldn't demean herself the way those girls did for a cheap thrill (I won't even say laugh, because when the water came down, I looked at the judges and they weren't laughing. They were cheering as if they were at a strip club).
I really didn't come into this contest expecting to win...so that was fulfilled. But what I didn't expect was to feel that we deserved to win. Yes, the room may have been louder for the nine minute fetish show, but it was laughter along with incredulous screams and cheers of horny men. I could have arranged to show that too, had I known that the judges would be so easily swayed by tits.
If I sound bitter, it's because I am. It's obvious that ours was funnier in a deeper way than theirs and I assume, as with much of my humor and that of people I'm associated with, it'll only take a few days and then everyone (judges included) will only still be laughing at our films running in their heads. Then when their done laughing, they'll run the other groups scene and then run to the restroom to rub one out. All I'm saying is that perhaps the four heterosexual men were carried away with the gimmick, the spectacle and were able to stay with it for nine minutes for the same reason I was able to stand by my window in an awkward physical position with venetian blinds grinding into my forehead and face for three hours. That reason is...I might see boobs!


Good energy though.


Still love you Don.

On an up note, we in "The Co-Governors of Space" came away from the experience feeling more motivated than ever to fight against the mediocre and sabotage the machine of Chicago comedy. And we all also agreed that we had to proud of our integrity and dignity. Before I turn into Wilfred Brimley, I'd better sign off.

g'night.