So last night I had a set in Orange County and it was one of the most interesting nights in comedy I've had in a while. Because it was my first time performing at this particular venue, I stayed the entire show. I sat through twenty comics. Twenty. That's A LOT of comics to sit through.

Nevertheless, it was oddly fascinating. Aside from a couple of women and a couple of Hispanics, all the comics were straight, white males--my friend Guy notwithstanding. How do I know they were either straight and/or in the closet? Because every comic had a gay joke (or two) to prove it. Jokes like, "I'm anally celibate. And by that I don't mean I'm anal retentive about celibacy, I mean I'm anally celibate." Get it? He doesn't have anal sex?! Here's another. "I write poetry. Just because someone writes poetry doesn't mean their gay. Now, if you write poetry with a c**k in your mouth, you're gay." Tee hee! By the way, I followed that guy on stage. My opening line was, "I write poetry with a c*** in my mouth and I'm not gay." In the comedy biz, that's called "pandering to the audience." I got a huge laugh. Cheers, in fact. For the record, though, the statement wasn't true. I don't write poetry.

But I digress.

I was mostly fascinated by the racism. Obviously, as a comic, I hear a lot of racist humor. When I need a good fix of it, I can head to the Comedy Store and get some. In LA, though, the racism is usually in the form of a pointed joke. I might not personally think it's funny, but I can at least see where others might. Or I can at least see what the comic's attempting to do.

Last night was different. I heard jokes that were both corny AND racist at the same time. Like if you took out the racist element, it would be the kind of joke where you'd roll your eyes and think to yourself, "This guy should keep his day job." But when you throw the racist element in, the joke takes on a whole other dimension. I can't tell you how many times my jaw dropped last night. Guy and I would look at each other like, "Did he just say what I think he said?" It was awesome.

I'm kicking myself that I didn't record the other comics. Here's my favorite joke of the entire evening. The guy was in his late forties, early fifties. He wore ill-fitted jeans (a common theme throughout the night), an Angels t-shirt and sneakers. Here it is:

I was telling my buddy that my wife is a big complainer. She never runs out of things to complain about. He goes, "A real nagger, huh?" No. She's a short white woman, about this tall.

Here's the kicker: This guy is a SCHOOL PRINCIPAL in Orange County.

I heard "dirty Mexican" bandied about. The context, "I could by oranges from a dirty Mexican." That part was a riff, with no actual joke attached to it. Someone talked about being really disoriented, as if on drugs or something, and the only thing he could compare it to were Asian drivers. There was also a punch line delivered with the obligatory Asian accent, "Why you no..."

The trip was eye-opening. To be fair, there were some girls at the next table who seemed shocked at some of the stuff that was said.

Hopefully no one from the show will stumble on this page. Also, many of the comics were really nice. A lot of them came up to me to say they liked my set. One of them invited me to do his room, which I plan to do if he emails me.

And I'll be doing the show again next month. Hopefully I'll remember to tape some stuff (for my own personal use, of course). I should point out, however, that there were some people who made me laugh last night.

Okay, all for now.

We are currently sailing from St. Petersburg, Russia to Helsinki, Finland.  It is 12:00 in the evening and I am on a floating hot bed of social activity.  The show just let out, A Singing and Dancing Salute to American Pop and the ship is abuzz with partiers mingling in a collage of languages, and spilling into the Coffee @ com Internet cafe where I sit typing this blog.

The man occupying the computer across from me keeps tapping the table assertively, throwing his hands up in disgust, nodding adamantly and emitting guttural noises.  He is either a) day trading b) engaged in an instant message dispute or c) downloading porn.  Wait, he just chuckled aloud and gestured wildly as if to grab my attention.  The answer is d) ordering online for a drink to be sent over to me.

I confess that I am happy to be leaving Russia.  St. Petersburg, although stunning in spots is also sad and dreary in many ways.  We saw magnificent palaces, museums and churches, along with worn, neglected neighborhoods, sour people, and despair.

Russian history is fascinating.  It was very dangerous to be a member of the royal family.  Most stories tell of how happy and productive some Tsar was until he was murdered.  For the Tsarinas, the fate is slightly less harsh.  They get sent to a nunnery.

Today we saw the palace where Rasputin was enjoying a lovely meal until he was murdered.  This was interesting to me for two reasons.  1) I've read a lot about Russian history and 2) I learned that if someone does not let you into the main house, but only brings you down to the basement, don't eat the snacks.  Rasputin, The Mad Monk, was poisoned and then shot and then shot again and then shoved into a river and any one of those things can ruin a dinner party.

The man accross from me is laughing again and attempting to make eye contact.  I can see his screen name from here, so I'm going to close now so that I can I.M. him my room number... Hold on... more wild gesturing, a lean back in the chair and a loud Hmmmpphh.  I'll save him for Laura.