Latino Comedy Project – The Pleasurecraft

January 13, 2009

It’s very likely that sometime around 3am on Jan. 20, a fleet of black helicopters will descend on the White House lawn, their speakers blaring the Star Wars Evil Empire theme, and Bush and Cheney will begin their sad, dark perp walk into the annals of infamy. The only thing left for historians to squabble over is whether Bush was some sort of Machiavellian supervillain or just a nitwitted, bungling simpleton like Barney Fife. If only Clinton, à la Andy Griffith, had been wise enough to drop a single bullet into George Jr.’s shirt pocket at the beginning of his term with the admonition: “Use this only in case of an emergency.” The most likely scenario is Bush shooting a hole in the floor of Air Force One. Worst-case scenario involves a Kenedy County quail-hunting trip with Deadeye Dick. Then again, there are those who will say that beneath Bush’s aw shucksy faux country boy persona is a criminal mastermind – the type of pure evil who pronounces “nuclear” as “nucular” on purpose. That way, he can honestly say that he never said that Saddam had nuclear weapons. Saddam might have been hiding WMDs, but our WMD (Word Mispronouncing Doofus) was right out in the open for everyone to see, and it took us eight years to get rid of him. Maybe Clinton should have given Cheney the bullet, although Clinton is smart enough to know that such a close encounter with Cheney is probably something like the scene in Poltergeist where the little girl touches the TV and is sucked into an evil netherworld. That’s probably not really the case. After all, Cheney lives in Jackson Hole, Wyo. J-Hole is wicked cold in the winter, but it could hardly be called a netherworld. It isn’t particularly scary either, except for the fact that the town square features four arches made from thousands of Elk antlers. One is left to guess how many contributors met their fate at the business end of Cheney’s quail gun. Would it be that much of a stretch to discover that the entrance to Cheney’s ranch is an arch made out of the bleached bones of dead Iraqis? When you’re the shadow vice president and former CEO of Halliburton, pretty much anything is possible. That’s why even at 3am on the morning of Bama’s inauguration, Bush and Cheney will still be living like kings, even though their lives will feel a bit more like a deposed dictatorship. Don’t worry, Bush won’t be carting off White House memorabilia, unless maybe it’s tapes of his cabinet meetings. Keep your fingers crossed. With any luck, when those black choppers take off from the White House lawn, they’ll drag all the darkness, cynicism, and secrecy away with them. We won’t have King George II to kick around anymore either. Bush’s departure might actually be the “death of sarcasm” that all the Republican pundits were flapping their jaws about after 9/11. With all the hope and optimism in the air, will anyone even want to make snide comments about Eagle One? Only time will tell. Until then we can look only back at what a fertile time the last eight years have been for political criticism. You can get started on that this Saturday at the Hideout when the Latino Comedy Project revives its popular Bye Bye Bush, a revue of sketch comedy, videos, and music that pays tribute to our nearly departed 43rd president. Go ahead. Bury the hatchet one more time.

JAN. 1, 2008

It’s 2008! Whatever. The Earth makes another lap around the sun; the odometer of life rolls up another digit. You don’t need numbers to remind you that your mortal coil is unraveling. Every time you look in the mirror you see more fat, more moles, more wrinkles. Yes, it’s time to get your shit together, but then again, it was time to get your shit together years ago. All those resolutions you made in 2003 are pretty much the same ones you’ll be making this year: Lose some weight, get a raise or a better paying job, find a soulmate, learn Spanish – at least well enough to order your breakfast tacos without sounding like a total honyak. Those are all noble undertakings to be sure, but given your record of irresolution, maybe you should set the bar a little lower. Aiming for the stars works OK as an empty platitude for motivational speakers, but most of us are equipped with a pair of Wyle E. Coyote spring shoes at best. We’re lucky to be able to even touch net, much less throw down a nasty Dwyane Wade tomahawk dunk. Still, just because you’re in the meat of the bell curve when it comes to human achievement doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to tweak your performance every now and then, if only to make sure you’re not some sort of superhuman who accidentally got bogged down smoking pot, eating Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and watching Lost reruns all day. Maybe trapped inside you is a Nobel Prize winning nuclear physicist or a concert pianist or an angry little girl who can start fires with her mind. Point is, you’re never going to find out if you don’t occasionally mix it up a bit, and failing to meet the same lofty goals and standards every year isn’t helping your confidence any either. How about reining it in a bit? Maybe instead of losing weight you resolve to buy looser fitting clothing. That’s an achievable goal. You don’t have to buy a whole new wardrobe, just piecemeal it. Besides, what if you gain more weight? You need to be able to adjust on the fly. A raise or a better paying job takes a lot of effort, time, and energy. Instead, you might want to use those resources to examine your sick dependency on materialism. Hey, no one is going to nag you about that, are they? As for finding a soulmate, why not earn your training wheels by finding someone with a pulse who’s willing to look at you naked without strapping on a pair of welding goggles? Maybe the only thing that stands between you and a regular, thorough rogering is your impossibly high standards. Those standards are going to fall sooner or later, so why not get ahead of the game and let them slide right now? As for learning Spanish, you could start by resolving to hang out with more people who speak it. Before you overcommit and stake out a spot in the Home Depot parking lot, you might want to shell out 20 bucks and hang out at Esther’s Pool instead. This weekend they’re hosting ¡Loco Año Nuevo!, a compendium of sketch comedy performed by the talented members of the Latino Comedy Project. They don’t all hablo español. In fact, the show comes with just a smattering of Spanish, but that’s OK. You don’t want to overtax your resolve.