Tuesday, April 30, 2013

April 29, 2013 Open Mic, Bamboo Lounge, San Jose

Fourth attempt. Changed the concept to bring "help" on stage. Everyone liked it. However, I have a new appreciation for how hard this after watching several pro comics who came by. They were mostly like great improvising jazz musicians compared to me, reading from my script. Oh well, my strength is in the writing.
What do you think? I'm open to all comments and criticism, but please keep it constructive.
Thank you, thank you. I’m David Kelly, man, is it sexy in here, is it sexy in here, or is it just me?
You know, I had this rash on my arm, speaking of sexy, and the doctor gave this cream for my rash. It stung and I told the doctor that it made my arm smart. He said, “Makes your arm smart huh? Why don’t you then rub some on your dumb ass and then get your dumb ass outta my office?”
Anyway, anyone know why the chicken crossed the road? Huh? Anyone? It was because Jeff wouldn’t let it swear. “If you’re gonna swear like that, then take your dumb ass across the road and away from my open mic.”
Ah, this isn’t working. I’m such a dummy. I need some help from someone who is much smarter than I am. Much smarter than I could possibly imagine. I need an advanced life form to appear on stage with me right now to get me through the next 4 minutes. But how? How?
Doo-doo da-doo-doo da-doo-doo da-doo <<teleporting sound>>
Captain’s log, star date oh four dot two nine dot two zero one three. Responding to a mayday beacon, we found ourselves teleported to a wooden shack on a blue planet.
Captain, teleporting to this primitive environment was most illogical, what the tribble were you thinking?
Yes, Jim, had you listened to me for a change and factored in a left turn at Albuquerque we would now be among more intelligent life forms.
Bones, Spock, it is our destiny to reach out and explore the distant reaches of our being and, in doing so, consort among the wild natives who lurk in the shadows.
Right, Jim, consort among the wild natives who lurk in the shadows, huh? Is that why you recruited Lieutenant Uhura to serve on the Enterprise?
Dr. McCoy, that comment is most illogical. How a competent, highly trained officer like Lt. Uhura could possibly be confused with a wild native is beyond reason. In fact I believe I saw Lt. Uhura out in the audience tonight on an undercover mission. Speaking of which, Dr. McCoy, why do they call you, Bones, anyway?
Because that’s what Lt. Uhura screamed out, on one her previous under cover missions, when she saw McCoy with his pants down. “Dem Bones! Dem Bones!”
That’s enough Jim, she was talking about my finely formed rib cage. And besides, didn’t I warn you never to bring that up in conversation again? Next time I have you on the operating table, so help me, Jim, I’m going to connect your esophagus to your pancreas, so you’ll be talking out of your ass!
Talking out of one’s ass, most illogical, Dr. McCoy, but, come to think of it, in the case of the Captain, I fail to see how would that be any different from what we’ve been listening to for the past 47 years.
Quiet, we need to be quiet and listen to this environment for signs of intelligent life.
Captain, while you were listening, I took a reading of our surroundings with my quad-corder.
Quad-corder? Spock, surely you mean your tri-corder?
No, Dr. McCoy, I traded in my tri-corder for an upgrade to this quad-corder. Not only does it seek out and report on life forms, it also predicts success or failure if one was to approach a detected life form with an offer of sex. Most illogical, but such a popular feature with the Enterprise crew that I had to wait almost a light year to get mine through Starfleet FedEx.
Starfleet FedEx?
Yes, they route all cargo through the planet Memphis 9, which is hopelessly backlogged since they shut down their old hub on Uranus.
What was wrong with Uranus? That was next to the star base manned by test pilots! What could be safer?
Yes, the test pilots, the TP. The planet itself was fine, but getting to and from the mail hub became congested by too much TP orbiting Uranus in search of Klingons.
Quiet you two, I believe I just picked up signs of life forms. Spock, what does your quad-corder say?
No intelligent life, Captain, but I have received many predicted positive reactions to sexual solicitation. Most illogical.
Jim, I say we stay the night and pursue this path of intellectually predictive responses as detected by Spock.
OK, McCoy and maybe while on that pursuit you can convince that wild native over there to undergo a close encounter of the third kind from yours truly.
Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a hypnotist!

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