Kindly shut the f**k up.

Do you hear that whistling noise? That's my blood boiling.

Everyone talks about the lack of discipline with children--seriously, everyone's doin' it--but what about adults who behave like children? Who reprimands them?

People complain about laws. Do you know why laws exist? Because people are assholes. Thanks to assholes, we have speed bumps; car alarms; pay-before-you-pump; spyware; airport security; automatic faucets and tepid coffee.

Where is this all coming from, Mario?

I'm glad you asked, imaginary reader. I'm in Little Rock, Arkansas this week. It's a little slice of heaven...if heaven were a shithole. (see also: Shreveport, LA). For those who have never stepped inside a comedy club--and I can't really blame you sometimes--a comedy show is just like a movie: sit down, watch the show and shut your ignorant cake hole. Look at the name on your ticket stub. Who's playing tonight? Is it "Obnoxious Douchebag" or "Fat Cunt"? Nope, they were here last week. And the week before that. Infinity plus one.

More clubs need to "train" their audiences. You get one warning. If it happens again, you're out. It eventually weeds out these oblivious shit-stains...

"But we were just laughing!" Really? Then how come the bouncer hasn't had to talk to everyone else who's laughing? Some clubs are afraid to throw out the jackasses, for fear of losing their business. What about the 100 or so well-behaved people who will never come back? Why should they?

"Say sumptin' funny and thin I'll pay attention." You've got that backwards, sweet-tits. First, you pay attention, then you'll hear something funny. The reason I'm "not funny", is because you've been talking through all the set-ups. Still not funny? Then you're right, that is my fault...my jokes are catered to people who've completed high school, and I sincerely apologize. Git-r-done.

"You guys are 'sposed to be able to handle it." But for how long? I was working with the incredibly adept Jimmy Pardo recently, and he skillfully and hilariously shut down a heckler FIVE times throughout his show. Did she shut up? Of course not. Jimmy got understandably frustrated. After the show, she had the balls to tell Jimmy he shouldn't be doing comedy if he can't handle the crowd. But for how long do the comics have to "handle" your shit-faced, trailer-trash, coked-up outbursts? Apparently, for 90 minutes straight.

"Dude, man, bro, I'm helping the show." Oh yeah? Do you bring your own food to a restaurant? Your own drum kit to a concert? Yer mom to a brothel? We got it covered, fratboy. Climb back up into your Ford Compensator and hit the titty bar. Don't forget to bring your own stripper.

"It's my birthday! Wooo!" Ever hear the expression, "Attention Whore"? Well, pay attention, whore...the show is not about you. I know you think it is, and that's precious, but I'm rather certain the other 200 people don't give a shit how old you are. Go to Bennigan's next time. Better yet, casting couch sessions for Girls Gone Wild 12: Egocentric Boogaloo are right around the corner. Get in line. Whore. Wooo!

[Note: I apologize to the gals if this all smacks of misogyny. I adore women. I love my mother and my two older sisters. But 95% of the time, it's the ladies who can't zip it. Of that 95%, I'd say most are dried-up, tattooed, forty-something "ex-hotties" who never took the time to develop a personality back when their skin was tight and their tits were perky. Reach deep into those leathery saddlebags you call hips and wrangle up some common courtesy.]

And please, all of you...shut the fuck up.

enjoy the show,
mario


(drawing by Toothpaste For Dinner)