We
played this gig at the Bottom Line one time -- I think it was a benefit for
something, maybe AIDS research or World Hunger Year? -- and the Squares took
the stage. Now, Tom and Bruce customarily did a little back and forth comedy
routine a la the Smothers Brothers or Lenny Bruce, generally leaving me out of
the picture because they were quick, the fastball wits. I was the female in the
middle who’d look left to right, right to left, and look bemused and mildly
tolerant of those “bad boys.”
As you
can tell, I, too, have my own brand of fastball wit, but as I’m accustomed to
putting it on the page, onstage I tended to not get words out quick enough, and
I’d fumble. But THIS one time, I was heard. . .
This
was after Bruce made some jokes about Michael Jackson, maybe along the lines
of, “How can you can tell it’s bedtime at Michael Jackson’s? When the big hand
touches the little hand. . .”
So, In
the news at the time was a gory tale of a man who killed his girlfriend and
cooked some of her body parts to eat. Ugh. So Tom says onstage, between songs,
“So, you hear about this guy who ate his girlfriend?”
Not
missing a beat, I jumped right in, “Well, Tom, plenty of guys eat their
girlfriends” -- referring to a sexual act, you know, a double entendre. Nervous
laughter and a few rather sick guffaws met my bold remark. I thought it was
pretty good -- stopped the guys in their tracks for about a minute. They were
incredulous that I could have said something so quickly. . . and I wonder what
would have happened had Bruce said that instead of me.
Anyway,
after the show, our record company voiced mild displeasure at my onstage
comment. Never had the guys ever been chastised for their shenanigans, but I
thought there was a teensy bit of a double standard at play there. . . cute
girls just can’t “play blue,” I guess.
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