The bar had a stand-up comedy tour as the show tonight called (Still) Born in the USA. They had a \”special guest\” with them for tonight\’s show (as well as for tomorrow night, at Rutgers), one Jacqueline Novak. Seven guys and she were on the line up.
I know comedy is a man\’s world, and it\’s definitely much harder when all the other people in the line up are men, and most of the 18 people large crowd is male. I know that because of those reasons, a lot of female comedians try to make jokes about subjects generally considered taboo. Sarah Silverman did a good job in The Aristocrats (which I admit, even though I don\’t like her work, generally speaking). But the spiel Novak had running I didn\’t find funny in the slightest (well, to be honest, the whole line up was pretty unfunny, the staff were trying to stay awake and the audience hardly laughed). Her act ended with a long joke about her \”post-rape fantasy.\”
She starts by saying that even if a guy raped her, it wouldn\’t be rape for long, because once he got her clothes off he would fall in love with her. (\”Huh?\” was all I could think when I heard her say that.) She followed that up by saying that she wouldn\’t go to the hospital, she\’d get home and wash up, get all comfy in her boyfriend\’s t-shirt, and then he would wait on her. \”Honey, do you want video on demand? Do you want delivery food? This is YOUR night.\”
My shift ended at that point, which I couldn\’t have been happier about. I was disgusted. No one was laughing. I was glad I was able to just leave, because I wanted to smack her and then everyone else who stood there, not laughing, but complacently accepting the joke.
Maybe that\’s one of those types of jokes that go over well in certain New York clubs, but we don\’t like to laugh or dance here in D.C., we\’re very conscious about political correctness, and we\’re rather stuffy about women\’s rights (unless they\’re non-white, gay, transgender, sex workers, drug users, or wives of politicos, of course — this isn\’t San Francisco, et al.) We just don\’t really laugh about rape.
Unless it\’s exceptionally well done, of course. After her joke, one of my co-workers commented to us that he \”couldn\’t be paid to rape her.\” Normally, that\’s not funny. In this context, however, it was apropos. And I think that\’s the most laughter the club heard upstairs, at least up until when I left. No clue about after.
* * *
My grandfather went back into the hospital yesterday, which meant I didn\’t work last night so I could get some school work done. But with him still in the hospital, I didn\’t have to go watch him this evening, which left my night free….until my boyfriend asked me to work for him. So now it\’s Wed, Thu, Fri, Sat, Su. Somewhere in there, I have to be alive enough to take my exam. Tomorrow night, it\’s three of the worst bands I\’ve heard in a long time (at least by listening to their MySpace tracks). Fri, Sat, and Su are dance nights, which are hard on my body because it means standing up and dealing with drunken assholes (versus sitting down and dealing with sober people who are generally not all assholes).
On the upside, next Thursday night is one of our Dam festival nights, and if you\’re in town, I highly recommend you come by. We\’ve got four GREAT bands that night: Foreign Islands, Mahi Mahi, Drunken Sufis, and So Many Dynamos. I took our second festival night, Saturday, off, so that I can see one of my absolute favorite bands of all time, Upsilon Acrux, who are playing across the street at Velvet. I\’m so stoked for this show, my ears are threatening to burn in advance. Thank you, Hactivist, for introducing me to Last Train Out. Ah, Pittsburgh. So often do I miss thee.
Fast-forward to 1:31 if the tuning up noodling is too much. After ninety seconds, be prepared for the brutal crazy math-prog rockin\’ of it all.