ugh but true

Have a seat. Oh, hey Judy? Could you bring in a couple of ice-cold Clamatos? This is one of my best clients we got here! Okay. As your agent, I’m usually the bearer of bad news, which I then have to distort into good news- “Hey, don’t get discouraged, kid; you would’ve really roped the crowd in with the third act if someone hadn’t set fire to the theater because they hated the first two acts so much” should ring a bell- but I’m pleased to finally share a piece of unalloyed good news with you. Okay, ready? Here goes: I’m re-dedicating myself to my career, and that means from here on out, you’ll be getting nothing but my best efforts on your behalf. In one hand is a chip given to me for achieving 90 days’ sobriety from scratching the inside of my ear with my car keys, and in my other hand is a new lease on life. Well, not literally. I’m actually just holding a pencil in this hand, so I’m speaking figuratively here. You get it, I’m sure.

See, it’s not just loyalty that’s keeping me in your corner, kid. I really believe in you. Now, while that distinction might be subtle, it’s meaningful. When I see you shake your little tail feather on stage, it’s a revelation every time, and it’s your act’s resonating in my heart that could spark the additional enthusiasm on my part that could propel you to the next level in this business. However, there are just a few minor adjustments I’d like to see you make to your act to give it broader appeal. Take, for instance, the first musical number. Instead of a fifteen-minute drum solo, I’d like to see a 20 minute solo played on the saw. Or actually, scratch that, i just had an epiphany: juggling chainsaws. Hold it, what if we had you get sawed in half onstage, like billed as a One Night Only performance. I know the best set designers in the world, they could build a circular saw that looks like a giant pizza cutter and we could call you the Pepperoni Kid. Or wait, wait, I see it: nix the chainsaws, scrap the ventriloquism routine, hmmm, oh, and massacre, genocide, and exterminate the thing you do with the eggplant, because it’s disgusting. Let’s change the whole thing to an all-night dance party with you manning the turntables but using a pizza as a record, like in Sixteen Candles.

Now, technically we can no longer call your act Lady Ravensclaw’s Medicine Show, since we had to remove all the the medicine from your tour bus when it got busted crossing the border after Chilean Mardi Gras last year. But hey, what good is an accurate name anyway, if it doesn’t get hineys (ed. note- heinies?) in seats, huh, kid? I’ll tell ya, Jesus would still be doing open mikes in this town if I hadn’t convinced him to shorten his last name from Christberg.


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February 2011
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