Critical Cloud: August 2005

What do you call this act? The Aristocrats!

el Greco

It's the dirtiest joke you never heard.

Supposedly the comedy insider's joke dating back to vaudeville, the Aristocrats always began and ended the same way. A family walks into a talent agent's office and begs him to watch their act. After some initial reluctance, the agent agrees to give them a few minutes.

What then follows is up to the comedian telling the joke, but usually a number of sex acts, scatalogical humor, bestiality and any other kind of obscene filth was included. It was what the comedian did with the middle--how he or she ad libbed it and made it more outrageous--that made the joke what it was. The punchline comes when the talent agent asks what the name of the act it and the family answers, "the Aristrocrats!

"

Paul Provenza and Penn Jillette spent five years tracking down about 100 comics to do this 90 minute documentary and they got some of the great names in comedy as well as writers, critics, and others in the business. George Carlin figures prominently as does Robin Williams and Whoopi Goldberg. In a classic bit of humor, Provenza and Jillette tape "Billy the Mime" doing a completely silent version of the joke, which turns out to be side-splitting.

Phillis Diller and Don Rickles' observations are sprinkled throughout. One could only have wished that Jack Benny was alive.


Provenza and Jillette "the Aristocrats!

"

Bob Saget does a lengthy and totally gross version that is rendered even funnier because you keep having flashbacks of him as the cool and sane dad in Full House. Tom and Dick Smothers do their classic straight man/funny man schtick. The coup de grace, however, is Gilbert Gottfried's gratingly crazy version done at the Friar's Club roast of Hugh Hefner just a few weeks after 9/11.

Whether you're an post-adolescent fan of sick humor or a true student of comedy, go see The Aristocrats.


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The Pier is Hot, But the Service is Not el Greco

Sunday afternoons and evenings at Pier 23 have been one of the San Francisco waterfront's best known secrets for years.

If you're looking for a casual brunch with a view of the bay, it can be fun. If you need a quick drink Sunday evening to fortify you before that week starts, there's usually a good band playing.

Pier 23 is crowded--especially the outdoor area along the water--and the crowd is a friendly, good-looking, over 35 kind of group.

No 23 year Marina chicks drinking foo foo drinks here, thank goodness.


The West Texas Lass drinks it right from the bottle

But, and this is a big but, the service is god-awful. Trying to get a drink was as difficult as getting Barry Bonds to announce his return date.

I don't know if they need more help, but when all the glasses on your table are empty and the cocktail waitress just walks by, you gotta wonder.


Anne's great smile belied the fact she was dying for another beer.

Did I mention the music was good?

Or that you can smoke outside on the patio?

It's Free and It's Fun, But It's Not Jazz el Greco



As part of the SFJAZZ free summer concert series, the Johnny Nocturne Band played Union Square last night.

Free music is fantastic and the folks who brought it to the Square deserve a big "atta boy". And fun music is great too, as this band fit the "fun" criteria. Witness this nice older couple dancing right in the middle of Union Square.

But as fun and free as this band was, it ain't jazz. They kicked off with a nice blues number, but then degenerated into a big band version of the old Dusty Springfield tune Spooky. Fun to dance to?

Sure. Jazz? Hardly.

Technically, the guys in the band are fine. The solos weren't particularly inspiring, but then for pop music who needs innovative solo work? The next number was a salsa-like pop piece that was only slightly spicier than elevator music.

In my book, the Johnny Nocturne Band is doing for jazz what Starbuck's did for coffee--made it bland and offensive to no one.

Elegant Affair Features Cigars, Scotch, and Jazz (Crazy Marty also mistakenly admitted) After a long hiatus, and yet another drunken stupor, Crazy Marty files this story from far off Sunnyvale, California.

His wife reports that his recovery is coming along fine and all charges have been dropped.

The evening of July 23, in the garden at the Four Points Sheraton in Sunnyvale (not a bad place, as bedroom communities, with silicon residue for ground water, go) about 125 supporters of California Association of Retail Tobacconists (CART)--fighters for truth, freedom and the American Way, a way, by the way, that definitely includes Caribbean and Central American cigars..

.ok, and rum, too--gathered to pay homage to the grand old man of cigars, Avo Uvezian. That is why, despite this miserable headache, I’m still able to remember that the evening was called “An Evening With Avo.

” Avo not only discovered the Avo cigar, distributed with pride by Davidoff of Geneva, but he is a fine, lifelong musician, playing, despite his 79 years, great jazz piano.


Crazy Marty was also the guest auctioneer. Please, Crazy Marty,
next time coordinate your purse with your belt.

One of his stopping points in a life started in Lebanon was at the Juilliard School of Music in NYC. Unlike me, his stay at Juilliard included an education. My stay only included lunch.

Avo also was a pianist for the Shah of Iran, prior to the unpleasantness in Tehran that caused that gentleman his job, and us all kinds of grief.


Avo entertains the group with his fine jazz piano.

Having been volunteered to MC the evening, I got to sit at the table with Avo, who handed out a lot of his renowned cigars to one and all.

But perhaps even more auspicious was my immediate neighbor at the table, Mr. Stephen Beal, Master of Scotch. In 2003, Stephen was crowned Sprits Ambassador to the World by some estimable organization, and all in all, he's the kind of guy we would all want to become close personal friends with; close, sharing friends, if you catch my drift.

Stephen turned out to be the perfect dinner companion, sharing not only his wonderful store of classic Scotch Whiskies (Oban, Cragganmore, Dalwhinnie, Lagavulin, Glenkinchie), including a different one for each course (have I mentioned how painful writing this is? You try to do better under a similar handicap) but also stories of his travels and tasting experiences.

What I like about Stephen (Steve, I think, to his friends) is that he has little time for the precious crap written about items like Scotch.

..hints of caramel, toffee, leather, butterflies, etc.

To him, Scotch tastes like Scotch; some peatier, some softer, some stronger, but Scotch, not raisins. I like that in a man. Steve also doesn't give a damn whether you put ice in your Scotch or not.

What you like is what you should drink, and mostly, since he's in the business, buy.
That Queen Elizabeth likes ice in her Johnny Walker Gold Label is just fine with Stephen Beal.

Something else I like about Steve is that he brought 3 bottles of Talisker for CART to raffle off as a money raiser, which was the point of the evening as we besieged California tobacconists continue our legal battles against onerous taxation.

(Did you know that California has the highest rate of taxation on cigars of any state in the Union except Alaska? That means that tens of millions of dollars leave the state via internet transactions..

.saving customers a lot of money, but costing our state beaucoup dinero.) The donated Scotch comprised a 10,
18 and 25 year old (very rare; only 16,000 bottles for the world) and brought a high bid of $500 for the trio.

Honestly, though, Steve explained (but not during the bidding process) after 15 years, Scotch doesn't improve very much. Might explain why I've been partial (overly partial?.

.gee, my head and stomach just aren't right this morning) to some of the younger stuff over the years(hey..

.get your dirty mind out of the gutter).


Crazy Marty is partial to the younger stuff.

Oops, we meant scotch!

Besides the Scotch, most of the other auction and raffle items were cigars, and cigar related. One doozy was a large, unopened box of pre-embargo Cuban cigars (I believe it; thousands wouldn't) said to be worth about $5000.

The winning bid was only $2000, proving that you're not the only cheap bastard out there.

Credit for this delightful outdoor evening, where the weather was so accommodating, must also go to Faz Poursohi, owner of Faz in San Francisco, as well as Danville, Pleasanton, and obviously, Sunnyvale. The entree was a pomegranate marinated chicken with a delicious basmati rice.

Plenty of wonderful Mediterranean hummus, baba ganoush, olives, peppers, and cheese were available as appetizers and the surroundings couldn't have been more congenial. Nobody went home hungry, thirsty or cigar-deprived. Some, however, like us, only went home reluctantly, and only after Avo was requested to please stop tickling the baby grand that sits inside the restaurant for us stragglers because the staff was about to fall over.

Once again, Avo proved he can still outlast his juniors.