LCS 2010: Semi-Finals Day 1

NBC has been flogging The Event. A lot of strange things have happened, but none is the event! My best guess: It's that stupid capital "E" that turns around, ominously. Yes, that's right; The Event is a bit of trick typography. This show is penciled into my must-not-watch list.

I was hoping Craig Robinson might get to do a short stand-up bit, but no luck. Instead, he sits in a chair and pets a long-haired white cat. A well-brushed cat, I might add; otherwise, with every stroke there would be a cloud of cat hair floating down to the stage floor. Hey, a lot of people have cat allergies. Hope all you comics have had your allergy shots!

Tonight we see the first group of semi-finalists. Each does a short bit and then receives a critique from the three judges. I think this is new to Last Comic Standing, but probably matches what's done on a lot of other reality shows I don't watch. The problem is, every comic we see is fairly talented, so we hear a lot of "hilarious," "very funny," and "great material" from the judges. Kudos to them for not coming up with a lot of phony critiques, but they must have felt like broken records by the end of the evening.

First up is Myq Kaplan, who makes fun of religion—in particular, religious homophobia. It's funny, but yikes!—is it too edgy for broadcast TV?

Jamie Lee (who was identified as being from Dallas) talks about rooming in New York with a model who does coke. She also talks about being in a relationship with a comedian. Pretty good stuff.

Mike DeStefano continues to lean on his Italian ethnicity and rough upbringing. In the old neighborhood, even the Chinese guys had Italian names. Quite funny, but how far can he go doing a "character"?

Kyle Grooms talks about Jersey being hated, and about Detroit being worse off than Haiti. Not bad, but it would have been a lot funnier a decade ago.

Shane Mauss goes dark with a bit about a horrible amusement park accident inconveniencing the people waiting in line. It's better than his previous Seinfeldian bit, though somewhat in the same spirit. Is "I'm a jerk" all he has?

Adrienne Iapalucci talks about her mother; and again she explains that she doesn't hit kids. (She just manipulates them into hitting each other.) Funny and a bit edgy.

Felipe Esparza talks about the creepy people he sees on the bus and makes fun of his own looks. Just a wan smile from me.

Jonathan Thymius slouches up to the mike and does a funny/gross gag about stomach surgery. He does a joke about his wife, and then does a slow-developing ventriloquism bit. I love this guy's delivery, even though half his material keeps getting mail from AARP.

Lil' Rel does an extended bit about his mother's funeral, portraying some stereotypical characters from the black church. I'm only slightly amused.

Jason Weems contrasts the greeter when he enters a certain chain store with the racial profiler security officer who inspects his package as he leaves. He also tells a VCR joke (needs updating?) and describes an encounter with a, um, racially-aware kid. The material's funny but a little out of date.

Ryan Hamilton tells a funny skydiving story. If you dig skydiving, you laugh; otherwise, meh.

Paula Bel commiserates with the Obamas, talks about life without health insurance, and jokes about pedophile priests. Funny, but that last bit was on a trite topic.

Jesse Joyce improves over his monkey roadkill bit from the tryouts, but his story about getting caught in a traffic jam that he had caused is a little thin on laughs and even a bit hard to understand.

Rachel Feinstein talks about a guy with big hips and other men with a strong feminine/feminist side. OK.

Kirk Fox tells a long story about an infirm upstairs neighbor with a gun. Pretty good payoff—not great.

Amanda Melson talks about working for an employer who wants to be edgy and cool—the clothing drive for the homeless should not include any unfashionable jeans, fer gawd's sake. I smiled.

Chip Pope makes a halfhearted joke about office work, then talks about growing up poor and gay. (They couldn't afford a closet for him to come out of.) He does a passable Paul Simon impression.

Alycia Cooper talks about airport security checks and Tiger Woods's mistresses. There's some talent there, but I wasn't greatly amused.

David Feldman talks about his two daughters and the bad choices they are already making at a young age. He also talks about women who don't listen. I give the first bit a thumbs up for edginess; otherwise, so-so.

Wait, that's all we get? Yep, we've been listening to severely truncated stand-up for an hour and forty-five minutes, and it's time to announce the finalists.

The semi-finalists are organized into groups; each group will have one finalist announced.

Group 1 is Amanda Melson, Felipe Esparza, Alycia Cooper, and two guys who are carefully kept off-camera. (One of them is named Joe List, according to Brian McKim's blog. [Update July 17: The other is Jeff Maurer, according to McKim.]) Of the three on-camera comics, I'd probably go with Amanda Melson; but the finalist is Felipe Esparza.

Group 2 is Paula Bel, David Feldman, Myq Kaplan, Kyle Grooms, and two more off-camera guys. (They turn out to be the comedy duo of Stuckey & Murray.) Feldman had the best material, I thought, though I wouldn't complain if Bel were promoted; but Kaplan is the finalist. Well, if you like seeing organized religion smacked in the teeth (and there are definitely times when I can go for that), Kaplan's your guy.

Group 3 is Rachel Feinstein, Kirk Fox, Adrienne Iapalucci, Jason Weems, and Shane Mauss. I'd probably rank them Iapalucci, Mauss, Feinstein, Fix, and Weems. Feinstein is the finalist.

Group 4: Lil' Rel, Ryan Hamilton, Mike DeStefano, Jamie Lee, Chip Pope. Easy pick: DeStefano, though eventually I want to see more than Italian tough-guy jokes.

Group 5: Jesse Joyce and Jonathan Thymius. Thymius is my overall favorite for the night, and he goes to the finals.

My ranking of the finalists: Thymius (best), DeStefano, Feinstein, Kaplan, and Esparza. But every one of the semi-finalists tonight gave me at least one smile. A talented group.

"Shheee-it!"

One of the many delightful characters in the TV show The Wire is State Senator Clay Davis, played by Isiah Whitlock Jr. Davis had a characteristic expression—shheee-it!—that he used to punctuate his speech. Earlier in his career, Whitlock had played a character in the movie 25^th Hour who used the same expression.

Now I come across "Shheee-it!" in On the Road, spoken by a tenor saxophonist in San Francisco. Presumably it's not an invention of Kerouac's; perhaps he heard it under circumstances similar to those in the novel.

I wonder if the two usages have a common root.

LCS 2010: New York Day 2

This week's sponsor: Hebrew National Hot Dogs. Because we're in New York? And a housepaint that eliminates odors you don't even know you have. At last I have something to cover up the smell of that dead squirrel behind the paneling.

This week's montage: Jew jokes, from humdrum stereotypes to the anti-Semitic. These seem to be told mainly by gentiles, and Andy no like. I'm more or less with Andy. Ethnic/racial humor told by people within the ethnicity/race can be funny and sharp. (It can also be lazy and trite.) Told by people outside the group, such humor trends offensive.

We're shown a few people who audition but don't make the evening show: a comedy robot (who probably deserved better; he seemed to have at least as much potential as the gorilla-costumed Mel Silverback from a few years back); a mock religious couple whose ironic gag triggers the montage described above; and a couple of other forgettables. On to the evening show!

Kyle Grooms auditions with an OK Obama impression, but he's better in the evening show, making fun of his own name ("Kyle" is not a name to intimidate anyone) and glasses. He gets a ticket to the semi-finals.

Nikki Glaser tried the show four years ago and wasn't ready. This time she brings some pretty good relationship humor. She tells about public displays of affection making her jealous; one time she was getting seriously cheesed off with one couple—the guy was carrying the woman—until she realized he was putting her into a wheelchair. Nikki gets a ticket.

Jerry Rocha, a Latino from Dallas, lays on the ethnic humor. He says he's thirty-two and dating a twenty-year-old girl, which makes him older than her parents. Which is both offensive and pretty damn funny. He goes to semis.

Traci Skene goes with the relationship jokes. In her audition she suggests that if hair care products are meant to attract men, they should smell like meat. (Maybe "bacon" would have been a funnier word choice for her.) In the evening show she tells about doing a comedy gig during a snowstorm. The audience is all married couples who have nothing better to do; all the unmarried couples are at home having sex. No ticket for her; I have to believe she just missed the cut.

Ryan Hamilton from Idaho jokes about New Yorkers' ignorance of the interior; anyone not from the East or West coast must be from the Midwest. He gets a ticket.

Calise Hawkins talks about being a bad single mother—she has a three-year-old. Unfortunately the bad mother slot has already been filled, so Calise is done.

Myq Kaplan's boob joke is apparently enough to get him to the semis.

Brian McKim has a funny/gross bit about his flu shot giving him license to, say, lick the buttons in an elevator. He gets a ticket. By the way, he's married to Traci, who didn't get a ticket. No sex for him tonight.

Carmen Lynch tells about her therapist warning her not to regress, saying as illustration, "After all, you can't put the egg back in the chicken." Now she's obsessed with getting a chicken and trying to shove an egg into it. Her deadpan style is very funny, reminding me of Aubrey Plaza of Parks and Recreation. She goes to semis.

Mike Vecchione tells sports jokes. We think of drugs and sports going together, but cocaine and fishing is a no-go. He also has a funny observation about the fencing uniform (something about beekeeping). He gets a ticket.

Rob O'Reilly probably thinks too much. His audition is about puns, and in the evening show he insists you can compare apples and oranges—they're both fruit, after all. Not funny enough for the semi-finals.

Jason Weems questions Magic Johnson's claim (at Michael Jackson's memorial) that eating chicken with Jacko was the best moment of his life. He gets a ticket. That makes two comics using Michael Jackson's death as a career stepping stone. Such a brutal business.

Adrienne Iapalucci portrays herself as a kid-hating racist, but in a funny enough way (she avoids blacks on the street, which is a problem when she runs into her black boyfriend; she doesn't beat kids, but she can make 'em flinch) to move on to the semis.

Nick Cobb's audition (whispering is creepy) is as funny as his bit on the evening show (for men, getting down on one knee is good; two knees is bad; with many illustrations), and he gets a ticket.

That's eleven winners tonight. On to the semi-finals next week.

I had thought there would be a show devoted to auditions by special invitees (people not from Los Angeles or New York), but apparently those folks were seeded into the LA and NY shows (hence the comics from Texas, Idaho, and other parts). I wonder if the show paid for their transportation. Or perhaps they were told they had a very solid shot at the semis if they brought something close to their A games.

Dog, Man, Book

Big Biped puts my supper dish on the carpet. It has kibble with bits of canned food mixed in. I nose around and eat the canned food, along with a few bits of kibble for politeness. I'll get back to the kibble later if I can't cadge some treats.

Big Biped is in his recliner reading a book. I sit down under the piano and give him the alert look. "You want to sit up here?" he says, scooting to one side. I hop up, turn around, and lie down next to him. It's snug.

A box fan stands on a TV tray, next to the curve of the piano. The fan rattles and whispers and pushes us a soft breeze.

Big Biped is reading Kerouac.

I walked along the tracks in the long sad October light of the valley, hoping for an SP freight to come along so I could join the grape-eating hobos and read the funnies with them. It didn't come. I got out on the highway and hitched a ride at once. It was the fastest, whoopingest ride of my life. The driver was a fiddler for a California cowboy band. He had a brand-new car and drove eighty miles an hour. "I don't drink when I drive," he said and handed me a pint. I took a drink and offered him one. "What the hail," he said and drank. We made Sabinal to LA in the amazing time of four hours flat about 250 miles....

To be on the road. Heaven.

Nonsense

"Do you think I care if they talk nonsense? Hogwash! Talking nonsense is man's only privilege that distinguishes him from all other organisms. If you keep talking big nonsense, you will get to sense. I am a man, therefore I talk nonsense. Nobody ever got a single truth without talking nonsense fourteen times first. Maybe even a hundred and fourteen. That's all right in its own way. We don't even know how to talk nonsense intelligently, though!"

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment; as quoted by Charles Bowden in Contested Ground; as excerpted in the January 2010 Harper's.

Yeah, that's what this blog is—the nonsense I write in order to eventually get to sense.

Recipe: Spinach Balls

2 10-ounce packages frozen chopped spinach
1 6-ounce package chicken Stove Top dressing
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
6 eggs, lightly beaten
¾ cup melted butter
salt and pepper to taste

Cook spinach according to directions and drain in a sieve. Use back of a wooden spoon to press against sieve to get out as much moisture as possible.

In a bowl combine all ingredients. Mix thoroughly. Shape balls ¾ to 1 inch in size (a melon baller or small ice cream scoop can be used for this) and place on a cookie sheet. This can be placed in a plastic bag and frozen.

Bake at 350° F. If fresh or thawed, bake 7-10 minutes. If frozen, bake 10-15 minutes.

This is the recipe my mother has used for many years; I don't know where it originated. Nowadays it's hard to find 10-ounce packages of frozen spinach; you may have to rely on higher math to figure out how to get 20 ounces out of a couple of 16-ounce bags. I'm confident you can do it.

LCS 2010: New York Day 1

So this week we have a commercial for - let me see if I can get this straight - medication for people who have already had a heart attack. It's supposed to prevent another attack, or reduce circulatory blockage, or something. And it takes half the commercial to list the potential side effects. Last Comic Standing, these are your viewers.

And we start with another musical bit by Craig Robinson. Sigh. If we're going to do music, why not have Loudon Wainwright III as host? Actually, the more I think of it, that's a brilliant idea! Who thought of that?

This week we get some vigorous dancing by Natasha; Greg gets a lot more lines; and Andy is no longer irritating. Folks, I think we have a good panel of judges!

The montages this week are: stereotypical Italian-Americans; and dummies. --No, wiseacres, I am not being redundant.

So who made it to the evening show?

Jamie Lee from Dallas talks about judgmental people: her grandma, and those guys who make rude comments as women walk by (there's got to be a term for them). Good enough for a ticket to the semi-finals, say the judges.

Mike DeStefano paints himself as a tough Italian guy from the streets, and he's pretty funny. The show even does a little clip with DeStefano and three friends sitting at an outdoor café table, à la The Sopranos (which was often the funniest show on television). DeStefano gets his ticket.

Roy Wood, Jr., does a joke in his audition linking current events with his relationship issues: How long will it take to get our troops out of Iraq if it takes him three years to get a crazy girlfriend out of his apartment? Clever. In the evening show he imagines the trouble Facebook and Twitter would have caused in years gone by. I'm not loving his delivery, but the writing is so good that I can't argue with the judges giving him a ticket.

Kurt Metzger auditions with a riff on the sell-your-gold-for-cash commercials. In the evening show he tells a story about Michael Jackson's death being announced at Metzger's own father's funeral. Both bits are very funny. This guy is my favorite so far, and he's going to the semis.

Amanda Melson auditions with a joke about preachers using quotation fingers, or something. I didn't get it; maybe the funny part was edited out. In the evening she talks about a stupid new-agey yoga class - not exactly an original target for humor. Here's what I also don't get: She's identified as being from San Antonio, but in part of her act she does a mock-Puerto Rican accent. Is she pandering to the New York audience, or is San Antonio more cosmopolitan than I realized? At any rate, she gets a ticket.

Jim David auditions with some jokes about the gay "lifestyle" (presumably he's gay). In the evening show he takes on automated airline reservation systems. The bit is sort of funny, but not good enough to get him to the semis.

Tommy Johnagin tells jokes about bad relationships and gets a ticket. OK, I guess.

Alycia Cooper talks about the bad economy, the bad sports teams in DC, and the things she does to avoid airline bag fees. Another ticket to semi-finals, and another comic I don't feel like rooting for or against.

Flavia Masson auditions with a joke about a Brazilian bikini wax producing something that looks like Hitler's mustache. I'm not laughing, but that's enough for the judges to invite her to the evening show, where she talks about how dramatic and stupid her housemaid is. The judges correct their mistake and don't invite her to the semis.

Jesse Joyce jokes about being a Big Brother and about what traumatizing roadkill monkeys make. I'd have passed him up, but he gets the red ticket.

Claudia Cogan auditions with her fantasy of being a nasty stripper with a coke nosebleed, and her evening bit is about inappropriate LOL's in instant messages. Not brilliant, but I like her; she's an ambitious comic. She gets a ticket.

In the audition Jared Logan hates people who bum cigarettes from him, and that disdain gets him to the evening show. There, he talks about how his fellow subway passengers find his "pardon me" off-putting; they seem to think he's kind of a douche. I'm not sure, but they may be right. No ticket for him. He should get together with Flavia. The lower classes can't hurt them as long as they have each other.

So nine people move on. More New York next week!