IgnatsHumphrey@aol.com
When I lecture abroad at the finest universities on various Stern related nomenclature I frequently field inquiries regarding Artie Lange's skills or lack thereof as a stand-up comedian. As a Stern scholar it always pained me to have to admit I was unable to speak from first-hand knowledge. In future, I will be qualified to expound in minute detail upon this topic.
By pure serendipity I received two comp tickets to attend Artie Lange's appearance at the Westbury Capitol Theater on Long Island, New York for Friday, May 1, 2009. I was on the fence about leaving my suite at the Sherry Netherlands for such a declasse event, but was persuaded to attend by the inclusion of VIP parking, and admission to the theater's VIP club. With the Swine Flu going around I had to make sure I could distance myself from the riffraff.
Upon arrival, I was surprised to see the large turnout Artie Lange had generated. The theater was packed. In fact, Artie had about the same-sized audience as his same-sized doppelgänger Arethra Franklin who performed at the theater several weeks earlier. However, Artie's fans were much scarier, smellier, worse-dressed, and drunker than Arethra's.
The opening act was Cherry Hill, New Jersey comedian Joe Matarese. I found myself smiling more than laughing at Joe's performance. The Capitol Theater is a theater-in-the-round, which probably makes it a harder place to perform, plus the crowd was there for Artie and frequently interrupted Joe with Artie's battle cry of "Fire!" Joe did well with the crowd until he tried to interest them in buying his Cd. He said, "I need to sell these Cd's because Artie makes $80,000 and I only make $9." Personally, I think they're both overpaid. I heard general seating was priced around $65, which is insane unless it came with surf and turf, free drinks, and bj's from Stacey in the parking lot.
Around 9pm the ground started trembling, and a low rumble reminiscent of a buffalo stampede could be heard in the distance. I turned to see Artie bounding down the stairs towards the round stage, huffing and puffing like a hairy mammoth. The crowd got to their feet, half in tribute, and half in preparation to make a quick escape in case the dangerous, out-of-control, humongous, comedy juggernaut lurched in their direction.
Artie's act can best be described with food related terminology. His act is a combination of leftovers, and Hungarian goulash. Leftovers, because much of his act is recycled bits and pieces from his contributions to The Howard Stern Show. Goulash, because his act is a stew of anecdotes from his various self-abuses -- drugs, food, alcohol, and prostitutes. This is supposed to appeal to the audiences collective sympathies, and cast him as the prototypical average Joe. Unfortunately, it often comes across as sad, pathetic, and depressing. Which is exactly what most audiences go to comedy shows to forget. But then again this is a Howard Stern audience with a perverted appetite for humiliation in all it's gory.
Of course there are always those in the audience, commonly known as hecklers, who wish to not only witness humiliation, and self-denigration, but to participate in it as well. The best example of this occurred when someone shouted, "Artie, what are you drinking?" Artie replied, "I'm drinking your mother's cunt juice." Considering the fact that Artie views himself as heir-apparent to the genius of departed comedic legends John Belushi and Jackie Gleason, I somehow expected more from him. Masochism has it's limits, even for an intrepid reporter, and mine was 20-minutes of the comedic-stylings of Artie Lange. I have no idea how the rest of his show went, because I beat a hasty retreat back to the comforts of Manhattan, a fireplace, and a snifter of Courvoisier.
For Howard Shrine Spews and Views, this is I. Humphrey saying, may your Cognac never wreak of cunt juice, beyaaatch!"
