Monday, May 17, 2010

Irony thy name is The Laugh Shop

The wife had her birthday on Friday, so I took her out for Indian food and to a local comedy club called The Laugh Shop.

Now, I have been to comedy clubs before. I wanted a seat not too far in the back so we could see, but not too close to the front, so as not to be in the firing line. Guess where they put us? The club is very small, so our table was to one side, practically on the stage. The light was shining in my eyes and it felt like we were on stage with the guy. There was another table beside us, in the same situation, however, those people did not show up. On the other side of the stage there was a large party so their tables were pushed together, out of the light. Even the front row, directly in front, was less obvious than us, as they were out of the light and much lower than the stage. Ironic.

I was the biggest target all night. To be fair, I offered us up when I volunteered that the wife was having a birthday. Of course, the guy focused on me instead.

His name was Mike and was from New York, and served as the opening act for the headliner. I actually thought he was funnier than the other guy.

After picking on some poor blue collar, already half in the bag already guy Trevor, he focused on me. His main thing was suggesting that I was "retarded", that I thought my family were pickles, and I was going to my house on the moon after the show. He called me "Pickle" all night and did the stereotypical mannerisms of a "retarded" person. The crowd thought it was funny. I, less so, seeing as I was the butt of the jokes.

As our daughter is severely mentally handicapped, the wife was not too impressed and was going to write about our situation on the back of the comment card. I stopped her. Some of you may know of a case brought up to a Human Rights Commission in B.C. where this comic made fun of some lesbians. Comedy can be hit and miss, but I would rather the guy be free to say what he wants. Writing on the comment card would do nothing, except perhaps for the owner to refuse some acts because they might offend. Being offended is a chance you take and I would rather take that chance than have censorship.

I did not get a chance to bring up the situation of our daughter. Too bad, I thought that would be really funny, in a put-the-comic-in-his-place sort of way.

The sad thing is, I wish and I pray that my daughter was only as mentally handicapped as the stereotype that Mike portrayed. Imagine if J could walk, talk, take interest in things and smile.

That is irony.

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