Though she’s previously declared herself “the Courtney Love of comedy,” Tessa Skara says it would actually be more fitting to call herself the comedic Liz Phair, referring to the ’90s alt-rock musician’s confessional style. All these music comparisons aren’t pulled out of thin air, but refer to Skara and her rock music comedy cabaret creation Rock Goddess, being staged at The Duplex this Sunday.
Mo Fathelbab and his crew at The Experiment Comedy Gallery are organizing what could be the most exhaustive (and exhausting) anti-Trump action to go down yet, one week before America officially becomes Trumplandia. On Friday January 13 the Williamsburg comedy club, which recently relocated to a former punk venue on Grand Street, will host The Fuck Donald Trump Marathon, an epic “31 and 1/2” hour lol-bender that the organizers say is “aimed to fuck with the incoming fascist regime of Donald J. Trump.”
The idea of regularly tuning into a late-night public access show could cause some to raise their eyebrows, but rest assured MNN’s weekly comedy/variety show The Special Without Brett Davis, which replaced The Chris Gethard Show upon its move to the Fusion network, is nothing boring. Unless it’s trying to be.
It’s true that comedy, especially lately, has deviated somewhat from the norm of white men standing onstage telling jokes about themselves and usually at the expense of others. But there aren’t always places one can go to be away from all this, to safely cultivate one’s humor without fear of condescension or competition. A new pop-up comedy group called the Absurd Comedy Collective seeks to change that, offering free workshops, open mics, and shows that “create space for women-identifying people of color, and all genderqueer, nonbinary, and trans people.”
Somewhere, a woman brashly bursts from a large vagina. No, this isn’t the hospital, and you don’t have to worry about any mess… aside from some tissue paper and glitter, of course.
This is a peek at comedian Jen Clark’s show happening this Saturday at The PIT, appropriately titled Mein Künt. It’s a solo show that takes you on a journey through different stages of her life. It’s about growing up, it’s about queerness, but truth be told, it’s mostly about vaginas.
Picture this: you’re at a small performance space underneath a neon-lit jazz club, amidst a pink-lit bar and decorative mannequins. After a few moments of mingling and sipping PBR, a man comes onstage and informs everyone that if they didn’t already know, this show involves fully nude bodies. If we are so shocked by this horrid fact and want a refund, they are available at the door.