Even Plagiarism Can Be Performance Art

I did a super fun hosting gig at a music open mic tonight, and of course, without fail, I got Kanye stage rush heckled right in the plummy middle of a longish joke. I was pretty impassive because I suspected something was up as soon as I saw this giddy bloke making haste to the stage. My brain literally just acknowledged, “Ok, now this is happening.”

Original (West vs. Swift)


Cross-heckle (West vs. Bale Reeeeemiiiiiiiiiixxxxxxxx) *caution: explicitly colorful language*

Cross-heckle (West vs. Obama Reeeeeeeemiiiiiiiiiiixxxxxxxx)

I had already heard of an incident like this occurring at another show on Monday night (in the comedy world, time is of the essence!) despite that audience’s not really getting it either.

But honestly, my incident was some tipsy Thomas trying to top his Tuesday night to remember because he only came to the open mic to give his Beyonce speech and then leave. Unfortunately, the audience wasn’t really so into it but this guy was, man oh boy oh manboy oh baby, was he ever.

Whatta champ. He yelled his name out afterward and lifted his arms in the air a la victor in a battle nobody understood. Even he might not remember this at the water cooler tomorrow morning, but for one second, just one second, life had a deeper meaning.

Today’s hecklers have true grit. They stand behind what they say even if it’s a blatant rip-off of somebody else.

And for that, well, “Imma let u finish.”

Make New Vices, But Keep the Old

exhibit A (of recent Acquisition):

whenever standing still, i’ve adopted the lindsay “WWLD” lohan/paris “jail is not hot” hilton/celebutante method of perching one hand precariously-in-the-guise-of-nonchalance on the hip, as if to say, “photograph me, i dare you.” however, i carry neither the fashion muster nor the self-assurance to actually hold up the look. so really, it just looks forced. but surprisingly, it makes even linoleum feel like the red carpet. and wednesday mornings seem like oscar night. guilty as am-ex-charged.

here, here,
and, oh wow,
headless but here.

exhibit B (since Birth):

the addiction to looking down. i was recently told (and i already knew, oh how i knew!) that i look down too much onstage during my comedic attempts. frankly, it’s because i find the floor sexy, and eye contact overrated. however, in the entertainment industry, any indication of fear or wavering is suckerpunched like a blow-up clown doll already leaking helium. in an effort to amend my eastern-oriented ways, i’ve been looking up more in my day-to-day life. and there is a lot going on up here, folks. a lot to process. now i can’t stop staring at everything and everybody. i’ve apparently been missing a lot. however, i do have an intimate knowledge of feet and ground animals after years of studying them. oops, time for my eye exercises.

where is this utopia?
photo courtesy of Flickr and jaygooby

other niblets:

kanye west knows how to keep some serious house.

the urge to snuggle is still alive and well in the universe.