Comedy is already a dangerous game. The whole point is to surprise you, knock you off your feet. Knock knock. Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? Orange you glad I didn’t say banana again!? No. Also, fuck you. I was prepared for the banana. Had the banana attacked me, I would’ve prevailed. Orange you doesn’t even make sense, and you cannot defend yourself against something that doesn’t make sense.

But I can live with this kind of comedy. Satire, stand-up, whatever it is the Blue Man Group does—these are harmless. Set up, punchline, repeat. You don’t know what will hit you and when, but at least you know that something will. I know to practice concealed carry in these situations.

Improv, however… now that’s a whole different thorn up my ass. Improv is just lying, and lying will always get you into trouble. I went to a show the other day, and the group, I think they were called the Yes Andersons, asked for a setting. I said Guantanamo. They didn’t hear me, so I said it again, louder. They still didn’t hear me. Someone else said IKEA, so they went with that instead.

Oh, I’m stuck in this IKEA. And I’m a couch that can speak. And I’m a kid that’s run away from his parents. And I’m the CEO of IKEA. No. No no no. NO! YOU ARE NOT STUCK IN THIS IKEA. YOU ARE NOT A COUCH. YOU ARE NOT A KID. YOU ARE NOT JESPER BRODIN, CEO OF INGKA HOLDING, OWNER OF 367 OUT OF 422 IKEA STORES WORLDWIDE. You are just a bunch of college students with anxiety disorders performing in an empty college bar in the middle of Connecticut. Fuck you for lying to me. You are scum, filthy, gross, dishonest scum. When the day of reckoning comes, I hope Noah puts you on the bad boat along with all the criminals, manipulators, and zookeepers.

That British kid on YouTube that raps really
fast, though—now THAT is the kind of comedy I
enjoy.

J. Kilga

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