Mostly true stuff…

Ah, the smell of trees. Rain on concrete. And, sobriety (liquor being a fifth food group in Vegas for…everyone). It’s good to be back in Vancouver – home of the $1 million pre-war bungalow.

Drop into 1141 Hamilton Street in earnestly trendy Yaletown to be seen and watch others be heard. The show starts at 8:00 p.m. and features Colleen Brow, Graham Clark, Ivan Decker, Richard Lett, Jason Bryden…and everyone’s favourite primary colour, Blue.

Fewer comics.

Longer sets.

Delightful fusion-like pizzas – half price.

I’d love to see you there.

Vegas.

Hot.

Dry.

Broken.

The smell of steeped concrete. And, shattered dreams. A life compilation of unfortunate decisions played out in sagging strip motels in hues of dusty rose and foam green, with 1960’s cursive on the marquee: ‘Stay for a night. Stay for a week! Stay for the rest of your sotted and lonely life!” The kind of sad, low-lying cement squats complete with teeny, kidney-shaped pools and long-forgotten, rusted lounge chairs. Where dead bodies are folded into suitcases, messily stuffed behind the ground floor ice machine, or self-propelled from the roof of Honest Arnie’ (Liquor! Cigs! Gaming! Tattoos!).

And, there’s the other Vegas. The glinty. The glittery. Where lions are showcased in glass cases for snapshot happy tourists. Where platinum is the new gold. Money is the new happiness. And,  lives, ironically, not that far removed from the mortals at the dusty rose oasis. Oh, there are shows, shows, shows. A dancer could find work within the half-hour. A Vegas slogan: ‘Making the world a better place one dancer at a time.’ (or was that Kierkegaard)?

Appearing (and disappearing) nightly: Magic. Though, sometimes magic gets ugly. Sometimes magic gets competitive. There’s ‘The World’s GREATEST Magic Show’, and, ‘Steve Wyrick – REAL Magic’, and ‘The ONLY Magic Show’, and ‘The Strip’s Best & Only Truly Worthy Magic Show’, and, ‘The BESTEST, MOST IMPORTANTIST, SCREW THE OTHERS, Magic Extravaganza’ (fun for the whole family). Then, there’s Penn & Teller.

Meh. I hate magic.

There’s something called ‘Little Legends’. Celebrity impersonations performed by…midgets. And, another called ’The Lucky Chengs’. Celebrity impersonations performed by…Asian people. To each…his/her bizarre own.

Visit the ‘All You Can Eat Buffet’ that tastes like – chicken. Fetish-inclined? Become an embedded shopper at the outlet mall devoted entirely to shoes.

Meh. I hate shopping.

 At least, there’s COMEDY, folks. Is this a place where peaked, over-cooked, “what the Hell do I do now?” comedians go to die? Palliative Comic Care for the Rich? We’ve got Roseanne Barr, Seinfeld, Ray Romano, Jay Leno, Bobby Slayton, George Wallace, Louie Anderson, Wayne Brady, Rita Rudner, Wanda Sykes…

And, me.

Tonight. 11:00 p.m., AJ’s Comedy Night in Vegas.

Nowhere near the strip.

I’m poor.

I’m happy.

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Official statement on the Ku Klux Klan’s website:

“We do not support Democratic nominee, Barack Obama.”

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This Thursday, I’m the comic at a fundraising dinner. Fifteen minutes of material required, of which, I’ll be serving up a party tray selection of solid, older jokes, along with a healthy sprinkling of all things topical. I’m set.

But, what’s this? There are now children attending? “Oh, I wasn’t aware of that. No…uh…shouldn’t be a problem at all.” 

(Scrap jokes re: Oral sex…sanitary napkin…multiple orgasm…making love with the cable guy…people who use cocaine…).

“What’s that, you say? Sensitive to the needs of the audience? Yeah, I know it’s a diabetes fundraiser…sure, got it, no jokes about insulin. But, can’t I make fun of other people? Other diseases? The downtrodden? The unsightly? Sigh. Okay. Okay.”

(Scrap jokes re: Dead mimes…dead Democratic nominees…serial killers…memory loss support groups…brain injuries…obesity…).

 ”Hello everyone, I’m Colleen Brow. It’s great to be here tonight.”

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“Knock Knock…”

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Sleeping Beauty?

I’ll tell ya who’s sleeping.

Me.

First, they dance in a forest.

Then, they dance at a castle.

Now, they’re back at the forest.

And, guess what? 

Oh, big surprise…

They’re dancing.

Again.

A wolf comes out and acts scary.

The end.

That’s it.

Not one word in the whole show.

Just dance.

Can you believe it?!

I will never – EVER- for the rest of my entire life

go to the ballet again.

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(Review of school trip to the Royal Winnipeg Ballet’s production of Sleeping Beauty. Spencer Brow, age 10).

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