Jim Jefferies: Another Road Trip, Part 1

OK, no piccie with Jim this time. Let's face, the last two sucked, and I was VERY ill at the end of the gig--nearly passed out several times towards the end of the show because of a negative reaction to something I ate. (I think it was the drink--I had a Godiva coffee, and I think my body has informed me that my drinking days are done with, like it or lump it.)

So, it was an amazing road trip. As I said in the early post, I was seriously debating about whether or not to go; not from lack of desire to see Himself, but from lack of funds, worry about leaving Mum on her own, and worry about the health of the Blue Bomber. Silly Empress.

Mum was released from the nursing home on Tuesday; she seems to be holding up well. We're going to have some serious go-rounds about Hell's Vestibule--she's already undone half my work in the kitchen, and that just ain't gonna fly. I made the point this morning that it's either a) an act of utter sadism on her part; or b) she's lost some essential screws in her head and is mentally incompetent. Neither option made her happy, so let's hope she's actually going to examine her behavior and change it. Before I lose what little is left of my sanity.

The Blue Bomber made it just fine--Gods, I love that damn car. To quote the only reason to watch episodes 4-6, "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts." And so far, I haven't had to get out and push. There is nothing sweeter than a car that can do 100 mph on the highway without even trying. I mean, I love I80 in Pennsylvania--it's a fuckin' speedway and a joy to drive. I don't think I was doing less than 80 at any given point, something the Blue Bomber is just made for. She may only have a six cylinder engine, but that bitch can haul ass.

So, Friday a.m. started with a huge hug from my godson--you know you're not a complete waste of space on the planet when a kid loves you. More girl talk with KJ, and then a lovely road trip through rural PA. Again, this is where driving is a pleasure--country roads, rock'n'roll blasting on the stereo (I'm not a huge Tom Petty fan, but if ever there was a time to hear and enjoy the song, "American Girl," it was under those conditions)--blue skies, green fields and hills, the occasional horse-drawn buggy, little towns, farms, and perfect temperatures.

Met Tory (finally) for coffee in Monroeville, got the directions and headed out for the show over in Homestead (neighborhood of PGH).

We had a good table--somehow, I always end up to the left of the stage. Don't ask me how or why, I just do. *shrugs* Whatev. The MC and the opener were OK--not fabulous, but OK. The MC was a chick--amusing, but not laugh-out-loud. This bothers me, especially as a chick considering standup. This has been something bothering me from the first open mic experience--the "boys club" feel of it, and the fact that women just don't seem to be as funny. I really hate the idea that female humor is different--I mean, yeah, it is, but at the same time... I always make guys laugh. I mean, I shock the shit out of them half the time, but I also make them laugh. I'll think about this more later.

The opener was a finalist from Last Comic Standing. *shrugs* Moderately amusing.

That's the problem I'm having with this show (aside from getting sick)--the energy was off in the room. Part of it was the openers, but part of it was the room. It just didn't feel right.

Don't ask; it's just the theater-Spidey-senses thingie. And then again, it just may have been ME.

So the MC brings Jim on, and he immediately declares himself hungover (after greeting the crowd; never let it be said Mr. J is not a gentleman). He looked hungover (no, faithful blurkers, despite being firmly in love with My Man, my Celebricrush is still firmly in place; remember, it doesn't matter where you work up your appetite just so long as you dine at home. No worries there, either)--back in February, despite needing a shave, Jim looked fabulous. Friday night, he looked a bit rough. Yes, I'm being a friggin' den mother--it's my nature. I also love the man's work and want him around for a good long while, so Jim, if you're reading this, please take care of yourself. Your roomie's a friggin' health nut who's saved the life of your podcast Tard--let Eddie get your ass in the gym and kick it around. /end nagging.

The other side of this is that Jim himself has admitted that he's very good at appearing drunk on stage when he really isn't, especially when he has to drive. (This is called "acting," for the uninitiated. This is why standups like Robin Williams go on to do things like win Oscars--essential skills developed to survive gigging in a different city every friggin' week.)

Soooooo... the set. Jim has stated before that he doesn't do political humor. I was happy to see that he's deviated from that stance. Yes, there were comments on Bin Laden; he had a little tip at Mr. O., and a good slap at the Republicans. Nice to see him getting a toe wet in there--I understand the desire to keep his material undated, but at the same time, the political situation in this country is too ridiculous NOT to have a go at it. As a resident alien (although he's said that he's considering American citizenship--he's white, so unlike so many, he shouldn't have a problem. After all, our last president still does a fair bit of coke, so no reason to hold it against anyone else) who's lived in two other first world countries, traveled the world, and played for troops in a war zone, he has a far broader perspective--and is better informed--than 90% of Americans. (And yeah, I include myself in there.)

I lost it over his Jenga/9-11 celebration party bit. Too wrong for words. TOO FUCKING WRONG for words! And utterly brilliant.

The bulk of the set was materical from Alcoholocaust, and centered around hypocrisy. Jim had his usual go at religion--Allan, Bubba and Elephant Guy--and he's expanded and better developed his bit on depression and dreams. If you've seen Alcoholocaust, you've seen this piece--"Don't die today!"--but he's gone a step further and used it as his tie-in/tie-up for the show. It was a sweet thing to see; this is the third time I've seen Jim in eight months, and he's evolving and developing his set beautifully. While I know most of the material, I can't say that any of the sets I've seen have been identical. The material he's done that's on the DVDs has never been presented rote--he neverhas the feeling of recitation. He's got his marks to hit, his punchlines to get to, but at the same time, he's confident enough and pro enough to let his shit go wherever it needs to and explore it.

Gods, I love watching him work--not just as an audience member, but as an actor, a director, and someone seriously considering standup. Watching Jim is like a master class--the fuck-up, druggie/alkie veneer is just that--a veneer that covers genius. What draws me and keeps me coming out to see him is that the foul language (one of these days, I'm going to try to do a "cunt count"--I don't think I'll be successful because I'll be too busy laughing to remember to make tick marks, but I'd like to try the challenge) and utterly no-holds-barred material is the other side of a wounded soul--under all of it is an incredible amount of pain and offended compassion and essential decency demanding an answer from the universe for why the fuck this shit is happening, and for fuckssake, doesn't anyone else SEE WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?

Remind you of anyone you know?

I am going to say what I've said in every review of Jim Jefferies that I've posted on this blog over the past eight months--GET OUT AND SEE HIM PERFORM. I know his material, and I still laughed, clapped, and hooted along, despite the fact that I was sick as a dog during the last twenty minutes.

Jim is at Caroline's in NYC all weekend; check his website at www.jimjefferies.com for the full tour schedule. I'm not roadtripping this weekend--the reality of unemployment is setting in, and I don't have friends in NYC to crash with. And there will NOT be a repeat of the Port Authority debacle. Argh.

Of course, like the past two times I've seen him, there was a debacle following. I mentioned that I was sick towards the end of the show. I actually had to do the rudest thing an audience member can do--I had to leave during a part of the set to go to the bathroom. Understand, I am old school theatre--when you are in the audience, you DO NOT get up during the performance. It's just incredibly RUDE. ESPECIALLY if you are seated down front, and Jim has commented enough that he takes it personally. However, I had no choice. No way I was vomiting in public. I made it to the ladies room in time; however, because of the weird way my stomach processes, I couldn't throw up. So it was sit and shake for a few minutes (and have a pee; never, ever miss a chance to empty the bladder). That helped a little bit--got some of the shit out of my system--but I still wasn't out of the woods. I went back into the club, but didn't sit back down--I just didn't want to walk in front of the stage while he was performing. I mean, as an actor, I've had to restrain myself from stabbing audience members who do that (and that's the great thing about doing Shakespeare and playing men--edged cutlery). Not something I want to do to my favorite performer. Bless him, Jim actually waved me back into my seat. Tory had said he wanted to meet the man, so I waited for him in the lobby after the show (because the bathroom lines were ridiculous). Almost passed out on the stairs (I have to say, I am amazed sometimes at the iron control I can exercise to avoid humiliation--no fucking way I was going out of there in an ambulance). Said hello to Jim, complimented him on the show, asked about the set list for the second show, DIDN'T ask for a pic, Tory shook his hand, complimented him, and as we were going out the door, asked if Jim remembered me. And because I'm shaking and trying not to heave, I was a bit cranky and said, "I don't know; I'm not going to bother the man!"

Made it to the car and promptly fell apart. Tory had to get my keys and unlock the door for me. At this point, let me say that I'd had VERY little alcohol--I didn't finish the coffee drink I'd ordered because I was feeling too awful. I'd had nachos and had them hold all the stuff I'm allergic to. And I felt like I was going to die--shaking, nauseous, dizzy, faint, SICK. Tory sat with me until I got it under control--who'd have thunk that celery would fix it? Managed to get on the road half an hour later instead of staying for the second set (REALLY wanted to, but was terrified of getting sick and passing out without a friend there to help me; plus the line was sod-all LONG. A very, very GOOD thing!).

The drive back took six hours longer than expected; two three hour naps caused that. Fuck, I must be getting old.

I got caught up on the podcast during the drive. Sacre merde. Now that I have time to think and write and post again, I will be doing an updated review of Talkin' Shit. Again, if you're not listening to that show, you need to. Trust me. Jim and Eddie (and resident Tard, Jason) are hysterical. And after finding out Jason's grandfather was a bartender in SoBo, I'm a little afraid he's a distant relation. Gods forbid.

OK, kids, I have to get my arse in gear to get ready to meet up with My Man and go see Thor in IMAX 3D. A first--should be interesting.

Will post more tonight if I don't get a leg over. (Although I think he missed me, so... *grin*)

Random Notes, Cool Quote & the Empress Promotes

"True terror is waking up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country." - Kurt Vonnegut

My second favorite provider of t-shirts, Northern Sun (www.northernsun.com - patronize them, oh, my fellow progressive liberal blurkers, they're nice people with fabulous, humorous, sarcastic and moving shirts for people with brains and a conscience), enlightened me this a.m. with this quote, and it just made my day. I may have to start a quote page--a static page with favorite one-liners and quotes.

Speaking of one-liners... I wrote my first new real standup material in months last night. First bit of material--at least, material directly intended for performance--I've written since September. *insert shy but proud grin here* I think I may be coming out of the funk finally.

I also had a chat with a friend yesterday who is also starting out in standup after many years of thinking about it. He opened miked at the place I had been doing back in September, and it was a relief to hear him say he found it a tough room. He's also been taking classes through Improv Boston in both improv and standup and gave me some advice and comfort. I'm psyched for him--he's a talented guy (and, yes, when he starts gigging, I will definitely give shout-outs on here) and very, very funny--a damn good storyteller. He infrequently blogs here: http://dotdotdotandme.blogspot.com/2010/07/someone-i-wish-i-knew-betterand-me.html but you're more likely to see him over at ImprovBoston.

One other standup thing I want to mention--if you're in L.A. on Saturday, January 29th, there's a gig at the Hollywood Improv to benefit the victims of the Australian floods. Show hasn't gone up on the website yet, but tickets can be gotten here: http://www.improv.com/ComedyClub/Hollywood/Index. So far on the bill Jim Jefferies, Eddie Ifft, and Wil Anderson. Regular blurkers know that I'm a huge fan of Mr. J. and have my fingers crossed that Eddie Ifft will hit Boston on tour--I've actually subscribed to the podcast he and Jim do every week because honestly, they're fucking hysterical. Utterly, utterly WRONG, and I hope the two of them riff off each other on stage, a bit like the rednecks did on the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, but without the Piggly Wiggly and cars-on-blocks references. And better accents.* If you want a sample of the podcast, go here: http://traffic.libsyn.com/talkinsht/JE-MP3_for_Audio_Podcasting.mp3 or search for talkin shit or either of the comedians' names on itunes. Oh, yeah... they've got a website: www.talkin-shit.com.

I also went back to the gym last night, and unlike on Saturday, did not have a knee fail. Managed forty-five minutes using the hip aductor/reductor (I know I'm getting that wrong) thingies and crunches and am NOT in pain today which means I did not do enough yesterday. (My Zune battery died; I hate doing crunches without music.) Depending on what the weight rating is on the ellipticals, I may try that tonight. (Yes, I am still paranoid about that; spend most of your life too heavy for most exercise equipment, and you'd be paranoid, too.)

**To be fair, I actually found the Blue Collar Comedy standup special pretty damn funny, once I realized that the voice I was hearing--i.e. Larry the Cable Guy--was NOT my dad. Yes, that is EXACTLY what Foghorn sounds like. There is nothing worse than being on the toilet and hearing a TV blaring comedy in the next room and thinking your north-of-60 alcoholic father has suddenly become a compatriot of Jeff Foxworthy. It has a negative impact on the lower intestinal tract and its functioning, let me tell you. And the jokes LtCG tells... yeah, I'm sure Pop belongs to the fan club and goes to see him when he plays Branson.

Alcoholocaust - the First Reaction

“What’re you feeding that kid?”
“It’s not what he’s eating; it’s what’s eating him!” - from The Stuntman

I’d like to state for the record that I am a fucking mess atm, and I’m writing because a) I have no tequila in the house; b) if I don’t, I’m going to scream and scream loudly; and c) I don’t fucking know.

Well, I watched Alcoholocaust tonight with Tory and the interview on the disc, and honestly, I feel like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest.

This is NOT a bad feeling.

Faithful readers, you’ve been hearing me natter about Jim Jefferies for the past few months like a pixilated school girl. Well, suck it up, buttercup, I am not giving it up.

Alcoholocaust is brilliant.

Utterly, completely, unabashedly brilliant. It was worth the wait. I will be roadtripping to either New Jersey or Foxwoods to see Jim (I’m hoping for Jersey because Tory may roadtrip up from PA—possibly with KJ—to join me). I don’t give a rat’s nadgers if it’s the same material; some of the material was done at the show in NYC, some of it I haven’t heard before.

And the brothel story I’ve been dying to hear? Genius. Brilliant. Heartwrenching. Hysterical.

Alcoholocaust is NOT a standup DVD, and to call it that demeans the work. Sorry, Jim, hate to break it to you, luv, but you’ve passed beyond being a standup comic and into the realm of storyteller. Drop the c-bomb all you like, man, but you’ve moved up the ladder.

I want to state for the record that I am a pretty damn demanding audience member. I’m a trained actor (yeah, yeah, I know, pretentious fucking statement, but true) and director. I know good from bad, I know when someone’s faking it, and when someone is giving their all. I’ve had a lot to say about truth on this blog (and have more to say about it, too), especially as it relates to comedy and performance.

Now, let’s talk about bravery. Courage. As Bert Lahr would say, “The Noive.”

Jim, you broke my heart tonight. I’ve been waiting for this damn DVD since August; maybe not a very long time, but still… It was so worth the wait. You weren’t overstating the quality of it when you were gushing about it at Caroline’s, and yes, it is better than Contraband and I Swear to God. You did exactly as I was hoping—combined the polish of ISWTG with the audience rapport of Contraband, and sacre merde, man… it’s a work of genius. If you were playing Boston on your birthday, I would buy you dinner and have my card out before you could even remember where your wallet was just to say thank you. Hell, I'll still buy you dinner with no strings attached.

Why? Well, kids, let’s run it down:
a) AWESOME material; from having a go at lesbians to women who don’t pay to the advantage of being gay to hypocrisy to the futility of dreams to the reality of dealing with depression. And the brothel story. Jesus wept for joy, the brothel story…
b) No prisoners, no holds barred, no stops, no excuses. Jim excoriates himself as much as the audience; he takes everyone to task for being stupid and being hypocrites.
c) Brilliant, committed storytelling – pacing, language, delivery all SPOT ON!

I said above that this is not a standup DVD; Alcoholocaust teeters on the edge of being a one-man show and brought back to mind Whoopi Goldberg’s debut HBO special back in the 80’s. If you’ve only ever seen Whoopi cutting up on Comic Relief or dishing on The View, you have missed something. In that first special, she created four vignettes of different characters and the material was piss-y’self-funny and heartbreaking.

Jim doesn’t create characters—his stuff is drawn from life, and I use the word “drawn” specifically—in the interview on the extras, he makes a point that many people take his material as verbatim from life—his opinions, his reality, who he is—and that it really isn’t, it’s about getting a laugh. As honest as his material is, it’s still being passed through a filter to turn it into art, and the Jim Jefferies, comedian and storyteller, is the public persona, an aspect, not the whole of the man. I wish some of his oikier fans on FB would remember this, but hey… it’s all in fun.

I had the joy of sharing the DVD with a dear friend ; I had been hoping it would arrive early (and it did—eleven days earlier than amazon.uk promised), so instead of putzing around in Borders over coffee , Tory and I holed up at Hole-in-the-Square where he was staying and laughed ourselves silly. Well…

I’m going to correct that. We laughed. A lot. But there were a lot of, “Oh, Jim,” moments—the “zing” line that hit home and broke my heart more than once. I keep saying that… allow me to elaborate, and I’ll use a bit of his I’ve mentioned before. Jim does a fabulous bit on foreplay—the difference between the needs of a man and the needs of a woman. It’s a hell of a wind-up—when he greets the cunt, I almost fell off the chair (and I’ve seen him do this bit live, so it’s not like it’s new to me)—and it’s classic dirty material, just a great bit on sex.

Until he hits the last three lines.

I’m not going to quote them here; you want to hear them, you can either buy or rent Alcoholocaust (or check YouTube to see if the bit is still up there; someone caught it at a gig; vid and audio quality is piss, but the performance is damn good), or better yet, catch one of his live shows—the UK tour is in full swing and US dates are being added finally. I don’t know who Jim wrote those lines for; I don’t want to know. But I know the next time (if there ever is a next time) I’m in that situation in a relationship, I’m going to remind myself that my way of seeing things is not necessarily the only correct view. Yeah, it’s that deep, and if your heart doesn’t break just a little when you watch that moment, you don’t have a heart.

The brothel story… A lot has been written about this bit. A lot more will be written about this bit. My tuppence… I laughed, I almost cried, and my respect for Jim Jefferies—which was already pretty healthy—went up a notch or four, and you want to hear it, you buy the DVD or go see him.

Tory and I watched the interview. Wow. Wow. Sacre-frickin-merde, wow.

I’ve been taken to task a few times for my fandom of Mr. J. over the past couple of months, and all I have to say is this: it’s really friggin’ easy to judge someone for shallow reasons—appearance, language, habits—stupid reasons, surface reasons. To judge Jim for his frequent use of “cunt” and the frankness of his material is a cop-out; it’s bullshit, cowardice, and you’re not paying attention. As someone who tends to use strong language (and loves it) and who blows people away with her frankness (“Wait? Did I say that out loud?” and half the time, it’s not a joke), and as someone who has been discounted and misjudged because most people are too fucking scared to be honest (particularly when it comes to sex), I definitely identify with Jim’s work. I’ve been writing in that vein for a long time—not the same stuff, definitely not the same material—and I dare anyone to produce another comic on the scene working at this level of honesty.

See this DVD; see Jim live, and keep your mind open.

You won’t regret it.

Postscript: Have just listened to the commentary (background "music" whilst trying to upload this and get some other stuff done on the computer)... Just buy the damn thing.

The Empress Abroad - An Evening with Jim Jefferies,Part 1: WHAT A PERFORMANCE!

This is the first of three posts on yesterday's adventure. This one actually deals with the show; the other two will deal with the ensuing adventures surrounding and The Empress and the experience of the Celebricrush. (My word! I coined it! Bite me!)

OK, anyone who has had a conversation with me over the past two months that lasted longer than five minutes has heard about Jim Jefferies: how I caught his "I Swear to God" show by accident on HBO whilst Lucky- and Chey-sitting at 2:00 a.m. and had my mind blown and the final breakthrough of a year full of breakthroughs.

Well, yesterday I schlepped my arse down to one of my less-favorite places on the planet, New York City, solely for the purpose of seeing Jim.

Because Jim is a fucking god, comedically speaking. Now, since catching "I Swear to God," I've been all over the Interwebs, looking for his performances. YouTube is a good source (aside from the legit clips his manager has posted, the bits from Opie and Anthony are great, ditto the Minty's 2007 appearance, interviews from the Edinburgh Fringe Magazine, a couple of other miscellaneous interviews--the one from The Cave where he impersonates the head of a circumcised cock... yeah--TV appearances in the UK, plus a couple of "pirate" vids shot on cell phone video from a couple of festivals). I am not an advocate of pirating for a lot of obvious reasons (1. I'm a librarian. Copyright must be respected at all times! and 2. I'm a novelist trying to get my shit published, a longtime theatre person, and a fledgling comedian--I WANTS PAYING, DAMN YOU! So I can't exactly advocate swiping shit when it's people like me and my friends who get screwed); HOWEVER... the two easier to find pirate vids are great, not in terms of technical quality, but in terms of getting a taste of Jim live--relaxed and at ease with his audience.

Now, anyone who deals with me knows how hard I am to impress. I'm a cynical old bitch who frequently crosses the line into Evil Cunt without even trying--I am DEMANDING. As a highly ethical being, I expect a degree of ethics from others (note: I say "ethics," NOT "morality" which is a bastard concept imposed by bullshit religions), and when I don't get it, I get cranky. However, when someone behaves with graciousness and magnamity...

OK, I hear the kin-niggots in the background shouting, "GET ON WITH IT!" and brandishing their weapons. Onward. So, I made a dinner reservation because it meant VIP seating. Now, honestly, the food at Caroline's... I wasn't impressed. The service is EXCELLENT--the servers are lovely, ditto the host/esses. I have a Bostonian's distrust of New York (sad, I know, but it's cultural and ingrained); Caroline's is a legendary comedy establishment, and I can't not recommend the experience of seeing a show there. Great service, great view, and a good value for the money. Just... just don't expect much from the food.

Now, as I was picking at dinner (because I really wasn't hungry; should have been, but wasn't), the early show let out. People piled out of the theatre, the hostess swept over the table near where a bunch of us were eating, and next thing I know, a figure I recognize is standing ten feet away from me.

Well, Jim started signing DVDs, shaking hands, taking pictures, talking with people... just a whirlwind of energy and activity. Well, Fan Grrrrl here pulled "Contraband" from her bag, and after hesitating, asked the hostess if he'd be signing after the next show. She said she wasn't sure, so I gave it a minute and when there was a lull, stepped forward with my DVD.

OK, a word about "Contraband": this was Jim's first DVD release. Now, I got my copy off of ebay a month ago after a serious pissing contest with another fan over there; however, I was a woman on a mission (more about this in the Celebricrush post), and no fucking way was some *grumblemumblenastywordforBritishpersonheregrumblemumble* outbidding me on this DVD, dammit. They tried, oh, how they tried, but inbred British defeatism will never overcome American entitlement and aggressive consumerism. So, I hand the DVD to Jim and he is shocked out of his mind and says to me, "Do you know how many of these exist?"

"5000."

"Yeah!" Well, there was "Contraband" sitting on the table next to "I Swear to God" and he says, "Better picture on that one."

"Definitely hotter." I got a look for that one. Surprise, but why, I don't know. He is... right, Celebricrush next post, GET ON WITH IT.

Well, we got into a discussion of the merits of the two shows--of course, Jim saying that the HBO show is better, and the newest one... he's over the moon about "Alcoholocaust." (It's being released in the UK on November 8th, two days after my birthday. Save your pennies, kids. Actually, don't bother because you know I'm gonna preorder the fucking thing because I can't live without it. It's Pratchett Syndrome all over again, dammit.) And being a director, I have to say that while I Swear to God is a far more polished performance, I love Contraband because he's so much more at ease with his audience.

(And he is--the extras include the first night of the performance of his show "30," which features the sing-along version of "I Am the Egg Man." There is something really special about seeing a performer with that kind of rapport with their audience. As an actor, I love that shit. It just makes me happy. Reminds me of the first time I saw Bowie perform in '83 on the Serious Moonlight tour--the "comeback" tour, like the man was ever away--down at Foxboro. Singing "Space Oddity," he suddenly realized that the entire crowd was singing along with him. The smile on Bowie's face will remain with me for my entire life... BEAMING, joyful, as it hit him how much people loved him, his music, and that HE was causing this incredible moment with 60,000 people in a crapass football stadium, all of us holding up a means to fire and singing along. THAT'S MAGIC.)

Jim then launches into the details behind "Contraband"--how he hired three camera guys with his own money to make the DVD so he'd have something to sell at gigs, and then... then he got famous right after it was made. Problem was the distributor owned the DVD, so he bought himself out of it by buying them up. Evidently, I now possess an ultra-rare bit of Jim Jefferies memorabilia, and fuck you, no, I ain't sellin' it. MINE!!!!! *growl* Remember what I've said about my Bowie albums? (Including the original American release of The Man Who Sold the World, the infamous "cowboy cover," and Bowie wanks know of what I speak--I have most of his catalogue up until Never Let Me Down, including 12" of "Dancin' in the Streets" and "Absolute Beginners," the best fucking love song ever recorded.) Cold. Dead. Hands.

I got a pic with him (terrible pic, all dark and shit, but hey, I had his arm around my shoulders... perfect height... *sigh* The sad thing is that I've got two guys on the hook and a potential third. I am not short of potential action at the mo), took a pic for the lovely couple sitting across from me, and then offered to buy him a drink, which was refused, "Nah, I'm off the booze," and off he went.

Then came the show. Well, Yours Truly had VIP table #4. It was SWEET: little single table not too far from the stage, perfect view. One table in front of me, and I could deal with that. Brett McKenzie from "Flight of the Conchords" opened. Funny guy. I've never seen the show, heard raves about it, and he was nice to look at and fucking funny to hear. Good material, good opener.

And then... Jim.

The place went wild. Insane. And Jim bounced out clutching a bottle of water and hit the place like a fuckin' hurricane.

I will say this about Jim Jefferies: his DVDs are fucking hysterical (yeah, I know, gotta produce the "fuckgraph" to demonstrate how good something is by the number of times I use the word). They are. I mean, I was having laugh flashbacks for two weeks over, "UP! GUNTA! UP!" (and I hate fat jokes, never mind elephant jokes) Get "I Swear to God"--rent it, Netflix it, whatever, but see it. But if you get the chance,

SEE. JIM. LIVE.

The great thing about the Internet is that you can easily get a taste of a career progression. It's interesting to hear Jim in interviews (and in his material)--he is very good at describing himself as "not smart enough." There is NOTHING stupid about this man or his material. He has a natural grace on stage--FABULOUS timing, and even when he flubs a line, saves it like a fuckin' pro, laughs at himself, fixes it, moves on, and the audience loves it, loves him, and laughs along.

That's the secret, kids--bottom line, whatever form of performing you're into, acting, music, comedy, whatever--ENJOY YOURSELF out there. HAVE FUN. Be FEARLESS. Jim Jefferies exemplifies this--he loves what he's doing, he's having a good time, and he commits wholly to what he's doing, and is utterly fearless with his material. He doesn't give a rat's ragged ass who he offends (or should it be "whom"? Who the fuck cares? It's my sodding blog). I think this is why I am so enamoured and inspired by him--that's the place I started from and am getting back to. However small he may claim his dick is, Jim has got ginormous brass balls on stage.

Note that I'm not talking too much about his material. That's deliberate. It's his material, not mine, and honestly, I want you to spend your money and see him. I mean, get me talking face to face, I'll quote a bit, but I'm talking about the performance and quality thereof, not the specifics of the material.

Although his material... Again, fearless. He takes on religion--particularly Xtianity and its hypocrisy--relationships, women, lesbians (and anyone who has had the old Lesley Lesbian Lug experience will appreciate his view of humorless dykes). Actually, here I will quote: "If you hate men so much, STOP TRYING TO LOOK LIKE THEM!" Like I said, after certain experiences at Lesley, I thoroughly appreciated this bit. Sex. Lots about sex. He had a great go at America that I completely agreed with (anyone who has heard my rant about being a nation of entitled spoiled brats will understand) that became a bit on his own battle with depression. No excuses, no bullshit--remind you of anyone? ;-) And I couldn't disagree with him, honestly, and even when a part of me wanted to, I was still laughing. Hard.

After the show, he was just as gracious as after the first one, and several people went up for second rounds of pics and handshakes and chats... but more about that in Part 2, Celebricrush.

Jim, if you read this, THANK YOU and ALL SUCCESS to you! Part of me doesn't want you to be cast in anything because you're so damn brilliant a standup, but the actor and director in me wants to see you in films because you're fucking amazing.

Here is my final point about Jim Jefferies as a performer: he has been described as "Britain's most offensive stand-up comic" for his subject matter and language choices (I had already embraced the word "cunt" a while ago, but Jim... yeah. It's his word, and as he'll tell you, he does know better, he just doesn't give a fuck, bless him). While I will agree that he is not for the easily offended (i.e. the humorless cunts that seem to overpopulate the world these days), that description does his talent, performance skills, and material a grave disservice.

I worshipped George Carlin. Carlin was a god. He can't be replaced--he came up in a unique point of stand-up history, and no one can replace him. However, I think Jim is the Carlin of his generation. He's at his best not when he's doing a gag, but when he's telling a story, be it about his mother, his dad (Gods, I want to buy his dad a pint, just because he sounds like a hoot; his mum I'd like to make a cup of tea because raising three boys... ), or himself. Jim's a natural storyteller and if you watch his face carefully (and this is where DVD serves well), he will break your fucking heart. You'll be pissing yourself laughing, but your heart will be torn in shreds at the same time because his warm brown eyes go black with rage, pain and outrage over humanity's lack of humanity. He's already kicked the schtick habit so many of the greats held on to for too long--it took having a heart attack for Carlin to get pissed off enough to stop with the silly shit and just be his cranky, brilliant fucking self. Robin Williams has only just got to the point where he can be honest. Mind you, Jim has come back from cock cancer and is now facing liver issues, so mortality is definitely giving him a prod, but you know from his stories, it's never been easy. That's what makes for great comedy--Shakespeare knew that. You'll find some of his funniest bits in the tragedies because it was necessary.

Again, Jim, thanks for an awesome performance. You're a gracious, decent fella, and I hope you keep it together and conquer the fucking world. It doesn't deserve the favor, but fuck, man, it needs it.

One bitch, though--could you get your press release updated? Sorry, but the U.S. management needs to get their shit together and get an updated press kit together--just looks shoddy, and you are NOT shoddy. (Sorry, that's the producer in me. I smack people around for missing details like that.)

OK, on to Part Two, the travellogue/gushy post. Be prepared to roll your eyes, say, "Oh, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, RIZ, GET YOUR FUCKING HEAD OUT OF YOUR ARSE!" and laugh because it's gonna be one about my stupidly ridiculous life.