The Death Of A Reference

As a performing saloon comic, one thing has been made very clear to me. References are funny. You need a couple of good references in your act. This guy’s got more skeletons in his closet than John Wayne Gacy. That girl is as well informed as a Jessica Simpson with a concussion. Mickey Rourke is as fashion conscience as a homeless guy on laundry day. See . . . you need a reference in order to justify how much better you are than the rest of the morons in this world. It feels, for lack of a better word, greedy, and that’s good. That’s right my friends, a badass reference to the “Street”! And speaking of movies, have you seen the new Will Ferrell movie? This guy’s made more bombs than a Muslim extremist during a double Jihad! (That’s a Pauley Shore reboot.)
Lately, I’m sad to say I’ve noticed a very disturbing trend among our treasured and often referred to American idols . . . death. These people are disappearing faster than doughnuts at Kirstie Alley’s house. Our references are dying off faster than a Joss Whedon TV series. Ed McMahon, Bea Arthur, Farrah Fawcett-Majors-O’Neal, the Oxyclean guy, and most recently one Mr. Michael Jackson (Wacko Jacko if you’re British . . . Wacko Warner if you smoke weed). It just isn’t fair. I mean, I feel so . . . what chu talkin’ ‘bout Willis . . . you know?
Michael Jackson was a great dancer who was too often referred to as a genius for my liking. Edwin Hubble was a genius. Carl Sagan was a genius. Steven Hawking is a genius. Granted, none of these guys could probably dance (especially Hawking) or molest children, and fortunately for us, they didn’t. Who’s bad?
Bea Arthur was always kind of anomaly to me. She made appearances on TV’s “All in the Family”. And then went on to star in her own series, based on the same character. The show was horribly unfunny and got cancelled. The ratings were lower than Madonna’s panties in the New York Nicks locker room. Where most people would disappear into the woodwork after such a failure (or in my case after a shitty Madonna joke) Bea Arthur lived in infamy in the “routines” of comedians all across the country. Mostly about something or someone having huge balls.
Take heed funny people, the world needs new references. And the spectrum of references for comedic purposes as you can see, is broad. Challenge your audience! The more obscure the reference the better. As non-existent as Charlton Heston’s toupee’ stylist. As bored as Michael Collins during a moonwalk. As busy as Charley Hodge on a two show night. And don’t get me started on Dolpf Whitlam’s birthday! Don’t be afraid to be as imaginative as Martha Stewart after three bong hits. But, never close on a weed reference . . . that’s my thing.