I wish for just one minute I had a small portion of my best friend's sense of self because he is empowered with such a strength of purpose and stubborn resolve in so many instances that would make mere mortals shrivel with embarrassment. How many of you would dare approach someone in a bar with a pick up line like, "You smell like my ex-wife"? None? Right.
My best friend is quite funny. Obviously. Anybody that would drop a line about someone smelling like their ex-wife on some girl in a bar has to be guided by some meta sense of humor, yes? I thought so for many years until one night in a basement comedy bar. My friend drug me there to see the culmination of several weeks instruction in stand up comedy. He signed up for a UW extension and I promised to come see his 'final exam' on stage. Everyone in the class got five minutes at the Comedy Underground. Moments before he went onstage, he whispered to me that he had a sudden burst of inspiration and was going to improvise. Up to this point, the students who did their routines seemed to follow a pretty safe pattern of doing joke routines related to their gender, national origin or physical appearance - not knee slapping, but serviceable. Batting cleanup, my best friend took the stage. This is what he said:
"Hey everybody, I'm a Washington State public servant. It's a really boring job but you know what would be really funny? If Arnold Schwartzeneger was the governor of Washington State! I wonder what his State of the State address would sound like."
I knew right then that he had gone waaaay off into the trees and this was just the intro to his routine. We had made fun of Arnold and his Austrian monotone since the Hans and Franz 'Pump You Up' skits ran on SNL. Oh god! He was really going to motor down this old, dusty road. I watched awestruck with dumb fascination.
"Theeese eeess dah state of dah state address fore dah state of Washingtonia! First oofff, teechaas who say they huv und headache doo not huv und tumor!"
Huh? "Kindergarten Cop?" CHRIST! No one is even booing him. If I farted right now, I would be shamed. He rambled through some more crap and began to sweat. A good comedian always has a parachute. A good comedian. My best friend isn't even a comedian. He's my best friend. He never carries a parachute.
"Duh deficit uv duh state vill be TERMINATED!!!"
Nobody said a word. Nobody even said something like "You suck!" Everybody watched my best friend die up there and I could really feel it in the room - complete and total empathy for a poor soul who stood up to do stand up and instead died and when I mean died, I mean completely died.
"Vote fuh me, Ahhlll be BAAACK!"
My best friend then threw his arms up and strode off stage. No one laughed. No one heckled. Everyone including myself saw our mom, dad, dog, cat and car die up there. All that was left was murmuring silence. To this day and after several disagreements that have nearly led to fisticuffs, he still holds onto the delusion that he killed it...
