Monica Singh, an employee of education and staffing company General Assembly, wasn’t expecting anything unusual when she went to work on Tuesday, one week after the distressing election of Donald Trump. But at the conclusion of her weekly team lunch, men around the room removed their sweatshirts and coats to reveal a heartwarming feminist surprise: Each was wearing an identical “The Future is Female” shirt.
“Last night was—pardon my French—batshit crazy,” said Jon Vanco of IFC Center, referring to the surprise premiere of Michael Moore in Trumpland on Tuesday. “It was the most circusy, bizarre night on Sixth Avenue that I think we’ve ever had here.”
Finally, the American public got an October surprise that didn’t involve forcible fondling or 400-pound hackers. Monday night, Michael Moore basically dropped some balloons on everyone by announcing that his new movie, Michael Moore in Trumpland, would be premiering Tuesday at IFC Center. Little was known about what promised to be the Beyoncé of agitprop cinema, but that didn’t stop hundreds of people from storming the theater like they had decided where to invade next.
When John Mulaney and Nick Kroll told Marc Maron who they wanted for “Oh, Hello on Broadway,” they mentioned that Alan Alda, Bernie Sanders, and Donald Trump’s doctor were on their wish list. After all, they’re rich man’s versions of Gil Faizon and George St. Geegland, the creepy, crusty Upper West Side roommates who rose to fame as characters on Kroll Show. Last night at the Lyceum Theatre, Donald’s doc failed to show up, but there were plenty of Trump jokes when Katie Couric made a surprise appearance.
When you tune into the first presidential debate next week, expect a few pot shots.
Longtime yippie leader Dana Beal intends to march with a 51-foot replica of a marijuana joint at Hofstra University in Long Island. He’s hoping it’ll get the attention of former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, who has thus far failed to respond to a letter that pot activists hand-delivered to her Brooklyn campaign office in June. In it, they called on the Democratic nominee to remove cannabis from a federal list of dangerous drugs should she win the White House in November.
A strange man approached me last night at the Metropolitan Republican Club. “Do you know what that is on your hand?” he asked, pointing down to an glass eyeball ring I like to wear. I gulped, ready for anything– after all, people had been belting out things like “Traitor!”, “Treason!”, and, of course, the one that got everybody at the RNC watch party chanting: “Lock her up! Lock her up!”
“I dunno, blood?” I murmured. Thankfully, I don’t think he heard me. “It’s a mati,” he explained. “It’s supposed to ward off the evil eye.” It was a nice sentiment, but I wasn’t so sure it was working.