So when I saw Ms. Cho's film of the very same name was playing on TV a year or so later, I cleared my schedule to watch. The first ten minutes left a bad taste in my mouth. Cho's fanbase is crazy! They cheer for every sentence that comes out of her mouth and upon my first impression, she milks it (who wouldn't?) and feeds off the gay-fan (as in devoted followers) contingency by talking about Karl Lagerfeld (sp? oh, wait, I don't care) and his fan (as in this). She could barely get into her routine without 10 seconds (which is looooong) of screaming per line. Boooooring, I snap-judged, and shut it off.
The next few years I didn't bother to check out anymore of Cho's stuff. I still loved her as far as being a popular female comedian and because, I mean, she's obviously a rad freak:
And that picture's not even that freaky. And any comedian with so many fans surely cannot be so mediocre. I mean, I don't think music is like comedy - I think comedy fans, especially since stand-up is recently so reviled in the pop-culture community, are a little more discerning than popular music fans. Of course, Larry The Cable Guy probably proves me wrong. Anyway, I thought, hey, Cho's not for me, but that doesn't mean she isn't still a goddess.
Fast forward to this past weekend, what I like to call my "comedy bender" weekend (which truthfully goes back to the previous week with me holing up in my house watching the entire second season of the best show on TV right now plus all the DVD extras, which my friends will tell you, I never watch the extras). I Netflixed (welcome to the world of verbs, Netflix) Bill Hicks and Margaret Cho for this weekend's study of Western comedy for my own planned career reinvention and return to the realm of stand-up (yes, folks. Starting tonight. See above post, which I will write in the future, today). Now, I know, love, adore, and want to be Bill Hicks. The man was the fucking comedy messiah, no bones about it. He spoke the truth and just happened to make it funny (and gritty!). "It's funny because it's true." Anyway, Bill Hicks will eternally be the reluctant mentor I never had. Of course, he would probably hear my material and be utterly offended by that.
But back to Margaret Cho: I rented "I'm The One That I Want" and made myself sit through the opening ten minutes again because I felt like, with her like 4 or 5 shows she's done since then, I'm obviously missing out. And despite the parts in the middle that were like faux-contemplative in that annoying one-woman show kinda way, I get down on my knees to you, Margaret, and ask for your hand in comedy colleague marriage. Very different from Hicks, but still enjoyable and there's a lot to learn from this lady. I've got her next shows lined up for more Netflixing in the near future.
So, what did I do yesterday besides soak in the comedy? Write comedy. FOUR stream-of-consciousness pages in 12-point (might have even been 10) Times New Roman. That's a lot for me, being that I rarely write at all for someone that identifies as a writer (which isn't totally true - I was looking through my computer with the feeling of, "oh, I have done a lot more than I give myself credit for." And this entry is extremely wordy too, so that must count for something). I wrote angry, I'm-sick-of-taking-it comedy, a la Hicks. We'll see if it ever gets performed... I've got a whole one-woman show "in here" about how I feel that as a white woman from the suburbs of Orange County, I have nothing to say. Except maybe about the viciousness of people. Hm. Anyway. I also painted, played banjo, and gratified myself. A very productive day.
So, Margaret Cho, you have a new devoted follower. Can't wait to experience more and thank you for putting your ovaries on the line to pave the way for more people to have the courage to stand behind a mic and make people scream, feel, think, and most importantly, laugh.
(Seriously, do me, Cho)
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