"Help Me Ren McCormack!": Footloose in Panama City

Worked the Zone in Panama City last week. Natalie and Tina were gracious hosts; and we had the biggest audience of the room's brief 9 month history. The food is quite good and Patrick Janka was a hoot to work with.

Panama City is a peculiar little town. PC in January must be mightily different than it's "in season" alter ego that kicks in only a few short weeks away. Most everyone that I met was a "local" of sorts. Some lived a few blocks away...some folks (including the house emcee Gina)had driven for 40 min. or more to get there. It is in talking to these folks that you find interesting personality traits of a town.

After the early show the first night, this attractive female audience member gives one of my friends her cell number and tells him to call later,-she will be at such and such bar. He takes this under advisement and tells her he might call. He was going to hang out for the second show and, I suspect, see if he could improve upon this opportunity.

I would like to point out that that this story is most certainly about a friend of mine and not about me. The only women who try to pick me up after shows tend to be women that one could not pick up...even with the assistance of the starting O line at Panama City High

So after the second show we are hanging out at the club bar with some locals, (See I talk to the locals, just like Rachel Ray says) when I take the slip of paper from my friend to find out where such and such bar is (I am one hell of a wingman).

"So you guys know where Newby's is"

Everyone stops talking and looks at me like I've got the winning Powerball numbers.

"So Newby's. Where is it?"

Nothing but nervous sideways glances all around.

Finally some one pipes up.

"Mister, that's across the bridge".

"OK. It's across a bridge. How do we get there?"

Silence. The guy says, " You 'aint gettin' this. It's across the bridge."

What the hell? I feel like I am in the movie Footloose where the preacher wouldn't let the kids dance (R.I.P. Christopher Penn) and they had to go into the next county to kick it.

Same guy: "You tell him Francine."

"It was ten years ago...tonight...that a couple of boys from the high school went crossed that bridge. They were looking to buy some moonshine from a one-eyed, one-armed, one-legged hillbilly named Ace. Mistuh, them boys never come home and one of them boys was my brother!"

We ended up singing karaoke at SideKicks.

Care for some Roundball with your Punch Line?

When will the folks that put comedy on the stage realize that comedy is not an accompaniment, not a side dish...it's pretty much the whole meal. Comedy doesn't mix well with bar top video games. It can't peaceably coexist with pool tables, line dancing, karaoke, Amway presentations or dart tournaments. Hell, I'm not even wild about performing while the audience is just trying to eat. And last night I find myself 40 minutes into an hour long set having to compete with Duke vs. Maryland . Granted, when they aren't doing comedy one night a week The Bentz Street Sports Bar in Frederick, MD is just that, a sports bar...and a fine sports bar at that. 30 TV's (including 3 sweet plasmas), great food, friendly help (They even have Iron City Light in bottles). Hell, If I lived in Fredneck, this is a place I would most certainly frequent. To be fair, the audience wasn't exposed to the Terps getting their ass handed to them by Coach K on all 30 TV's, just on 4 or 5 in the showroom. But still, lets give comedy the attention it so richly deserves, huh.
By the way, comedian Erin Jackson went up first and did a fine job. She was only up for fifteen minutes or so when the audience had purchased for her, not one, but TWO refreshing Jack & Cokes. That's affirmation, baby!

Head Hunting in Wilkes-Barre...

Great Weekend at Scott Bruce's room in Wilkes-Barre, PA. It was the 5th anniversary of his Wisecrackers franchise and the cover was only 5 bucks all weekend. Maria Walsh hosted and Johnny Rizzo closed.

I've never worked with John before, but he has a reputation for being very funny and very likeable, if not a little offbeat. Meaning that he might see things a little differently from time to time than the teeming masses. Therein lies his comic sensibility and perhaps the genesis of his success in this business. And that is also where our story begins.

I have seen comedians sell merchanside of all varieties after the show: CD's, DVD's, T-Shirts, bumper stickers, shot glasses, key chains, plastic drink cups, panties...you name it...a veritable flea market of low-brow hilarity and capitalism. I thought I had seen it all, as far as post show marketing went. Again, I had never met Johnny Rizzo.

Through some series of events Johnny has come in to possession of a real life, honest to God, SHRUNKEN HEAD! No lie. It's authentic. It's creepy. It even smells the slightest bit funky. Now just having such a bauble might be enough for most of us (I'd put it on Ebay and be done with it)...but not John...he has taken this shrunken warrior on the road and put him to work. Wanna' see a shrunken head, without having to go to a museum?...come see Johnny and bring a 5 spot. It's just that easy. Wanna' take a picture of you and said head with your cell phone?...same 5 bucks and smile. Think you're going to be able to talk John in to raising the purple Crown Royal bag that covers the Bell Jar WITHOUT handing over the green?...guess again. He may be a show man, but like P.T. Barnum, he is also a business man.

By the way, no fewer than 8 people ponied up to see Johnny's buddy over the weekend, and that's gas money for most anyone.