Law and Odor

Of slimy politicos, rude comics and birthday blow-outs

My little brother insisted on buying my drinks until he and his friends (very soon) ran out of money. Isn't he just the sweetest thing?

It was mighty white of my neighbors to wait till 11:30 p.m. to call the fuzz on my birthday party Saturday night, considering darling DJAbsolutesimply would not turn it down. (He was 22 and brought his oldfriend so he would know what to play for oldpeople—and they did a fantastic job, quite heavy on the Hall&Oates!)The party was somewhat sparsely attended—I blame you all, each individually—and by the time the cops got there at midnight, the DJ was already carrying his equipment out, there were, like, nineof us standing around looking at my bicycle, the children were upstairs having pillow fights—which the cops could see from the street—and I had drunk almost a bottle of Scotch. "Pillow fights, blah, blah, blah," said the cop, kinda cute and smart-assily. "If you'd gotten here half an hour ago, you would have seen the children roasting marshmallows!" I told him. "It was outofcontrol!"

After the heat left, we sold the children for crack. For nine people, it was totally rage.

And this Sunday night, LongTallGinaand I wrapped up an already Scotch-soaked birthday weekend by hitting the BreaImprovfor ChristopherTitus.Patton had told me Titus was a hack who does stupid SupportOurTroopsjokes, but I'd seen him a year or two ago, and he was a big, evil lefty, and I lovedhim!

Before the show, Titus was standing at the back, talking to a man, and I came over. What does a polite person do when interrupted by a hanger-on? One looks over within a moment or two, pausing one's conversation and graciously allowing the approaching person to introduce herself. And Christopher Titus DID!

See, Patton? (And Liev Schreiber?) It'snotthathard!

Titus then introduced me to his pretty wife, insisted on personally getting me a better table andtook care of our check.

Which is why it sucked that he wasn't that funny.

Sunday nights are horrible nights for Improv; the comics have done two to three shows per night for three nights, and the audience is a bit tired, and there's no energy off which to feed, and nobody's drunk a whole bottle of Scotch.

The opener wasn't particularly "funny" either, but as a guy who'd served in IraqI(ThePrequel)and was making fun of people who support the troops—not by notbuyingSUVsor upping veterans benefits, but by tellingthe troops they support them—he was saying just the kinds of things I like to hear! Once BillMaherturned left, he became much funnier, yes? It's funny how that works.

So we liked him, and of course we love Titus, but Titus' material has taken a swerve to the palatable-for-Americans middle; before, when he talked about America kicking world ass, the discerning viewer could tell he was making fun of us, but this time (and it may have been flat Sunday timing), he didn't seem so much to mind the whomping. Then he followed in the deep, slushy footprints of RushLimbaughto compare AbuGhraibto RushWeekat DekeHouseor somesuch gentle place, which is stupid, and did a very schmaltzy extended set piece about making the world a better place for his baby girl.

Ditch that shit, Christopher Titus!

Come back to the Dark Side.

I've got the bottle of Scotch, if you're ready to fight.

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