Killer Comedy Tour
Ricky Gervais is going on tour. His Mortality tour is now in the UK, runs until 2025 and goes everywhere you can write. Celebrities already have their bookers on speed dial.
He says of the name of the tour: “We’re all going to die, so we might as well laugh about it.” I’m not sure what’s funny about that.
He hopes he doesn’t die on stage. Now he works in clubs to perfect punchlines.
Politics plays the wrong note
The producers of The Ghost of John McCain want a second chance. Better yet, they need a smash-hit defeat.
This meal was conceived jointly with the late Grant Woods, McCain’s former chief of staff.
They say: “Our comedy reflects McCain’s love of satire. He would find it amusing – even if it got outrageous.”
“Woods gave a eulogy for McCain. Not to smear him. Just to honor him. Meghan McCain’s comments about our new musical make us ask: How do you judge a show without seeing it?
“Comedy bridges divides, promotes understanding, changes hearts and minds. Our absurd, loud confrontation with power, rivalry and the human condition points to leadership and democracy. That is exactly what we need in this hellish election campaign.
“Opening is Tuesday 24 September at the Soho Playhouse. We welcome your feedback. This art form is a wonderful way to celebrate a life well lived and a political system at an extraordinary point.”
Jason Rose and Lynn Londen don’t yet know that garbage doesn’t have to be seen. It just has to be smelled.
Face crime
When a woman is in prison – say Ghislaine Maxwell, who shares a room there – there are no hairdressers, electrosurgeons, podiatrists, dentists, maids, beauticians, trainers, manicurists, lovers, breast lifts, butt lifts, Spanx, treatments, no blusher, no masseuse, no things that help make an ageing woman look eternally 42.
Wardrobe? Not Chanel. Mass-produced. Magnifying mirror. Errrr. Ugh, tweezers. Circuses used to advertise bearded women. Now I know why.
How much can you cut off a chin by squeezing a bobby pin? Either braid your lower lip or walk 5-10 steps like Santa Claus. You can forget about eyelashes. The last time I had a pedicure was when I was 11.
No assistant? Driver? High-thread-count sheets? Evian? Scented soap? Please. I mean, how is a Ghislaine supposed to survive?
Party Crashers
1948. The Dixiecrats nominated South Carolina Senator Strom Thurmond as their presidential candidate. The Liberals nominated Henry A. Wallace. Incumbent President Truman’s approval rating fell to 32% – the lowest of any president. In the previous election, the Democrats had lost the House of Representatives and the Senate.
Senate leader Alben Barkley, a congressman for 40 years who was the first to charter a plane for 250 speeches, became Truman’s vice president.
Years later, back in Kentucky, Barkley defeated Republican Senator John Sherman Cooper.
As an inexperienced senator, rather than a new one, he chose a seat in the back row and told a crowd at Washington and Lee University – the alma mater of New York’s former Chief Justice Sol Wachtler – that he would rather be “a servant in the house of the Lord than sit on the throne of the powerful.”
That was on April 30, 1956, and the Vice President died on the podium.
But listen, the good news is: RFK, who now supports Trump, can still donate the money he raised – to Donald. In the worst case, even to a dead bear.
This PR-mad woman, known only from newspaper photos, was asked about her new PR man. “Great,” she said. “My house has already caught fire, I’ve been robbed twice, had a car accident, received three suicide notes from potential husbands and now I’m being threatened by robbers. He’s great!”
Only in LA, kids, only in LA.
