In Unapologetic Defense of Comedy
B ack in my stand-up days - way back in the 1980’s before everyone had feelings and politicized correctness - I did a telephone bit to play with the audience. The phone would ring on stage and I’d have to answer. It was the father of whichever young lady was seated up front (this is why you never sit against the stage in a Comedy Club) and I would proceed to relay questions from “Dad” about how the date was going, etc. Sounds dumb, I know, but it worked. One particular night, however, a young lady’s date took umbrage to what I was saying and decided to defend his woman - this happened to be Texas, I should have known better. As he was making his way around to the steps, I kept talking - I think the word is needling. Always one to make a situation worse! It was killing, and as he got closer, phone in hand, I dropped my arm ready to clock him if he actually stepped up on stage. One foot on the bottom step and security grabbed him, escorting hi...