So a bottle of water in my bag exploded on the Purple line train last Monday. I was rifling through it, trying to salvage the paper stuff. At some point, without really remembering I was in a public place, I pulled out some fake poop I had in my bag from a comedy show I am in. I just kind of held it in my right hand while rifling through my bag with my left hand.”Uuugh! Jesus Christ!” said the woman sitting next to me.”Oh, haha, sorry. Oh man, yea this is fake poo from a comedy show. I’m sorry I was cleaning my bag and I just forgot.” I said.”Ugh, ugh, that does NOT look fake. That is disgusting.”"Oh, it’s totally fake. See?” and I did something I now regret. You see, I had the poo as a memento from the show and was not really familiar with it. In my embarrassment I forgot it was handmade fake poo. I thought if I squeezed it, you’d be able to see it was rubber. Maybe it would squeak or make a little whistling air sound. I knew it would be gross, but lighthearted you know? But no, it was made of stuffed felt, held together with glue from a glue-gun, and full of plastic beans. When I squeezed, a brown ooze came out, and a horrible crunching noise from deep within the tiny poo filled the air. Wet beans and dissolved glue dribbled with the ooze.The woman screamed, and got up and ran to another train car. I think she was sort of sobbing as she grabbed the door handle. Some other people were looking at me too, completely unamused, all of them gravely angry looking.The sad part is that, according to the Railway Act of 1892, I am now legally a hobo because while on a locomotive machine I did hold up a piece of feces and squeeze it in public view.

Dear 501(c)(3) non-profit corporations in the city of Chicago who have been in operation for at least five years -

Would you like to make some easy money? Contact Ken Kaulen at Chicago Charitable Games and set up some poker games. It’s totally legal. All you need is a charitable gaming license, and you can host up to four games a year. Ken will walk you through every step of the process, and you won’t have to front a dime.

My theater company has hosted two games in the past two weeks. We’ve netted over $4300 so far, and we’ve still got two games to go.

Ken, Bert and Tommy, the masterminds behind Chicago Charitable Games, are a well oiled machine with one of the smoothest operations I’ve seen in a while.

Visit www.chicagopokerlive.com and contact them today. Tell them I sent you.

The Lakeshore Theater’s new-found focus on comedy, with a season curated by Paul Provenza, continues next weekend with Maria Bamford. I’ll let Maria describe herself with a bit about comedy club answering machines from her new album, How To WIN! (If you get the album before the show, you can learn all her new material and say her punchlines along with her. Because comedians love that*.)

Sometimes you call a comedy club and the answering machines is like “Cock-a-doodle-doo! Thanks for calling the Rooster Cove, home of the ten cent tequila truck! This week we have the hilarious comedy stylings of Maria Bamford! She’s a woman of a million voices, she’ll have you laughing all the way to 2007! Next week, Pumpkin Stick and his Banjo Steve!” Like, you have no idea what’s going to happen that week. I wish they’d let the comedians do the answering machine. You know, I’d do it, be like, “Uh hello, you’ve reached a former nail salon that seats four hundred. This week we have my quiet, odd joke-stories. I only do about four voices, actually. One low, one high, and a couple in-between. I’ll have you laughing or saying, ‘Well, I thought it was supposed to be Carlos Mencia. Well, it’s your bachelorette party. Well, she already start… you want…’ all the way to the parking lot. Next week, a guy who opens each show with a group sing-a-long about accidental date-rape. And then closes with the national anthem. Cock-a-doodle-doo.

Also, Chicago comedy site The Bastion scored a lengthy interview with Bamford.

Maria Bamford
Friday & Saturday, May 18-19, 8:00 PM
Lakeshore Theater
3175 N Broadway

* That’s a lie.

I was a vegetarian for 9 years in a small town in Indiana, so eating out was a long series of grilled cheese sandwiches. When I moved to Chicago, did I avail myself of the many fine vegetarian restaurants available in the city? Nah, I just started eating meat.

So it was that dinner plans* last night with an old friend (from that same aforementioned small town) was the first time I’d ever been to Soul Vegetarian East (205 E 75th). I zipped (amazingly enough) down the Dan Ryan and got rock star parking right in front of this cozy storefront-and-a-half. The staff were all friendly and patient with my “I’m just hanging out waiting for my friend**.”

The all-vegan menu has a great variety — lots of fried appetizers, salads, sandwiches, and entrees like stir-frys and noodles. And everything’s reasonably priced — most entrees and sandwiches are around $6. The Barbeque Twist looked good, and seemed popular with people coming in for carry out, but I went for the dinner special, which last night was orange lentil soup, pepper “steak” with gravy over rice, lima beans, and greens. It was perfect comfort food for a cold and rainy night, and I was stuffed quite full. Erica had highly recommended the soy ice-cream, so I was contemplating trying to fit dessert in as well, but they were all out of ice-cream, so I didn’t have to make the decision.

All around, an excellent meal in a friendly place.

And then…

There’s probably a nicer way to phrase it, but I turned into a fart machine all night. I guess my meat-eating stomach needs some reminding what veggies are. Sorry to be impolite, but I think y’all deserve the whole story.

[I just noticed that Caryn also reviewed Soul Vegetarian a scant year ago.]

* Plans, but not actually meeting up. I got stood up. Jerk.
** Jerk.

Blewt Productions has something of a surprise hit on their hands with their Monday night comedy talent game show, Impress These Apes.

The show has a delightfully overblown framing device: far in the future, the presciently-named Professor Scoresboard captures the last three apes alive and vastly increases their intelligence. They rebel against him and use his technology to create a time machine that allows them to journey back to 2007, where 8 contestants must amuse the apes, or they’ll destroy the world with their Earthquake Machine.

The eight contestants, who were selected from open auditions, are given a new challenge each week: the first week was to compose and perform a song introducing themselves, week two was to perform three minutes of standup comedy, and week three saw the contestants dancing to randomly assigned pieces of music. The challenge for this Monday’s show is to present magic acts. At the end of the eight week run, the points leader will receive $250.

After some good press in the Reader and Time Out, the show has sold out for the last two weeks. But good news if you can’t make it to the show (and another possible reason for its popularity), is that every performance of every contestant, including their auditions, is posted on YouTube early Tuesday morning. (You can click the numbers underneath the contestants on the Impress These Apes site, or check out Blewt’s YouTube “channel”.)

Impress These Apes
The Playground Theater, 3209 N Halsted
Mondays through Feb 26, 8 pm

Disclosureburg: My wife is a contestant in the show.

Margaret Hicks, book editor over at Chicagoist, defends the Trixie:

The trick is not in being original, this isn’t NYC, if you spend any time looking at Chicago fashion, you will know there really is no such thing as “fashion” in the City of Big Shoulders. The trick of the Trixie is, who is pulling off the black top/jean combination the best.

And part of that is not looking mortified when you see everyone else at the bar wearing the exact same thing you are. You must stand in your black Nine West boots with your head held high; your shoulder-length hair with blonde highlights brushing effortlessly across your shoulders, your perfect muted brown eye-shadow and lightly applied mascara flittering flirtatiously at the nearby standing Chads.

And speaking of the Trixie, how long has the original Lincoln Park Trixie Society site had that “Coming Soon” sign? Forever, that’s how long. If you’re really jonesing for some Trixie satire, the old site is archived in the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

… while trying to keep youself from looking like a catty backstabber? That’s a tough role to play on reality tv, but Bravo has a tendency to keep their shows a little above the bar.

Top Designer, a new show in the vein of Project Runway and Top Chef, will be casting interior designers in Chicago this weekend. Get the full details on their hideous website that looks like it just got off a ride on the Wayback Machine.

I have but one observation in regards to the news that Lil’ Stroger will replace Big Stroger on the ballot for Cook County Board President, despite having never faced the electorate: dynastic politics- whether it be Bushes, Clintons or Strogers- is bad for American democracy.

Didn’t we already fight one revolution to rid ourselves of this nonsense?

Colonel Steyn: Whose side are you on, son?
Private Joker: Our side, sir.
Colonel Steyn: Don’t you love your country?
Private Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel Steyn: Then how about getting with the program? Why don’t you jump on the team and come on in for the big win?
Private Joker: Yes, sir.
Colonel Steyn: Son, all I’ve ever asked of my marines is that they obey my orders as they would the word of God. We are here to help the Vietnamese, because inside every gook haji there is an American trying to get out. It’s a hardball world, son. We’ve gotta keep our heads until this peace craze blows over.

Sun-Times writer Mark Steyn delivers a shameful, dishonest and incomprehensible tirade which seeks to blame the alleged Marine atrocities at Haditha on…Cindy Sheehan? Well maybe not Cindy Sheehan, but certainly libruls in general.
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Photo from the Knob Creek website.

If you read the print edition of the Tribune, you may have come across the following article in today’s paper:
“Boom town- He likes guns. You got a problem with that?”

The article is all about Knob Creek Gun Range in my home state of Kentucky. See, Knob Creek isn’t your average shooting range. Twice a year, they host the “Machine Gun Shoot-Out.” The Trib article actually does a oretty good job of setting the scene, however they do leave out some crucial details. How do I know? Because, as a native Kentuckian, I’ve attended the MGSO at least 4-5 times in my life. I know what you’re thinking- “But nikkos…!” Yeah, I know, whatever. Such are the contradictions of nikkos.

Anyways, here’s what the Trib DIDN’T tell you about the MGSO:
• Yes, you can pay for a ride in a Viet Nam-era Huey helicopter, but the Trib failed to mention that you can also rent a flamethrower. You read that right: a FLAMETHROWER. You are encased in one of those silver-reflective flight suits with visored helmet and an honest-to-god military surplus flamethrower is strapped to your back. The flamethrower rental area is easy to spot- there’s a huge military surplus truck that acts as a mobile refueling station, and silver-clad people spraying geysers of flame 30 feet in front of them.

• The Trib also neglects to mention that the coolest part of standing on the firing line and watching the big gins erupt (and I mean BIG guns: Quad 50 cal’s, Miniguns, etc.) is that they are not just shooting at junked cars, boats and appliances. They are shooting at junked cars, boats and appliances which have been equipped with good -sized explosive charges, handily marked by a day-glo orange sticker. Aim for the sticker, hit the mark, and that junked conversion van erupts in a ball of flame. The concussion wave of the blast travels back to you in the grandstands much to the audience’s delight.

• The Trib was also pretty soft on the militia, confederate and out-and-out cracker presence at the show, as well as mentioning that it only stands to reason that this place is crawling with undercover ATF agents- they are selling machine guns as well as shooting them, after all.

• The Trib also missed out on the “Night Shoot,” wherein all the shooters string up belts of mostly tracer ammo- watching the phosphorous illuminated rounds streak downrange, errant shots skipping off into the trees like mad red and green hornets, is astounding.

• All in all, once you see the MGSO, you can understand a bit better what war must be like- albeit from safely behind the firing line. Imagining oneself on the receiving end of such withering fire is basically impossible- the brain simply balks at the idea that anything could live.

So gather up the kids, the whole family and take ‘em out for a wholesome day of destruction at KCGR! Tell ‘em nikkos sent ya! On second thought…