Last night we tried our "Heckle the State of the Union" show at the Five Spot. The big screen projector's bulb was burned out so the modest turnout watched the bar TV's while we sat behind them on the stage. With no rehearsal and the awkward disconnect with the audience the show wasn't a bullet train of comic hilarity, but it was an interesting experiment. Part of the fun of a slapped-together show is writing on deadline. Before the speech Mark Podojil and I performed this little number in almost as much time as it took to write. Sure it's weak, insincere and lacks real vision but it didn't take me 30 drafts.
The Misinformed Liberal
MC
Next we have a speaker who asked to say a few words. He’s the right wing’s favorite cliché: the Misinformed Liberal. A man whose hatred of President Bush is matched only by the inaccuracy of his facts. Come on up here Misinformed Liberal.
(The ML walks up to the mic wearing a “U.S. Out of Iran” T-shirt.)
ML
Yeah, man. I’ve got some things to say. George W. Bush sucks! Did you know he went to Princeton? That’s the most conservative school in the Ivy League. You can’t trust anyone who went to Princeton.
MC
Actually, I believe the president went to Yale.
ML
Lousy Bush, man. I think his problem is that he’s an only child. If he’d had some brothers and sisters growing up he might have learned to work with people better.
MC
The president has several brothers including one who is Governor of Florida.
ML
Bush made all his money from the pharmaceutical industry. His company Pestiferous Labs knew their eczema treatment was overly drying but they never told the FDA.
MC
He was an oilman. And was a partner at the Texas Rangers. Plus his family was rich. No dirty eczema money.
ML
George W. Bush, man. The W stands for Wilberforce. What the fuck kinda name is Wilberforce? We need a president, not a 1920s New Yorker cartoon.
MC
It’s Walker. George Walker Bush. I don’t know where you got Wilberforce.
ML
When he was 9 George W. Bush was abducted by aliens from the planet Tagalog. He was injected with a mixture of glycol and Fresca and given the secret codes to Mylar 5. After returning to earth he buried his radioactive duodenum in a cigar box somewhere near Kennebunkport. After assuming power he’ll wage a war on science until non-Euclidean chaos reins allowing the evil Cthulhu to emerge and feast on all humanity.
MC
… Well now that’s true.
ML
Alright man, I’ve gotta take off now. I’ve got Donna the Buffalo tickets at the Variety…
MC
Wasn't that show was a couple weaks ago.
ML
But before I go I just want to wish everybody peace. Okay, peace y’all.
(The Misinformed Liberal flips his middle fingers thinking that’s the peace symbol and leaves.)
Growing up Catholic in rural Wisconsin, the Mardis Gras festivities were different than in New Orleans or Rio, but they were no less decadent. Spray painting “Class of 89” on the water tower, getting your bangs trimmed for the Ash Wednesday blessing and the infamously debauched Shrove Tuesday pancake supper at the Knights of Columbus. I’d always choose sausage patties instead of links and center them on my pancakes to create crisp, real pork areolas over flat, Bisquick breasts. Then I’d toss my rosary at the plate like the maple-drenched whore that it was. 
