Watch this space.

Marquee view from the Loft at the The Troubadour.

Stay tuned for the rundown.

J.

UPDATED (finally!) 08/21/06 :

Drunken people and comedy don’t mix.

Oh, don’t get me wrong – drunks can be very, very funny to watch and be around. But as audience members they suck. Some people seem to think that heckling is a sacred part of the comedic experience. And when full of cheap vodka, these folks very often take it upon themselves to do God’s work. Most seasoned comedians know how to deal with hecklers. And the occasional audience member helps out by either threatening or out-shouting the heckler.

Unfortunately, none of these things were going in my favor on Tuesday night. The show at L.A.’s legendary Troubadour was at capacity and by the time we arrived, the floor was packed. We were given passes to the upstairs lounge, which is usually a really nice place to be. There’s a bar and a window that you can see the show through. The sound is piped in through speakers and there’s TV sets giving a view of the stage, just in case you prefer the comfy seats along the corner to the barstools. Predictably, as the night progressed, the space in front of the window got more and more crowded. (Pressed up against the glass, these people reminded me of kids at Sea World, trying to rouse Shamu into eating their little brother.) And people not standing by the window got more and more drunk. And louder – much, much louder. The show ran late because Brian Posehn and Zach Galifianakis were shooting something or other and were behind schedule. Zach never made it and we had to leave before Brian took the stage.

It got to a point where all we could hear over the din was raucous laughter from downstairs and the clink of cheap plasticware a few feet away. What really tripped me out was that a few of the comics (including Bob Odenkirk) came upstairs and proceeded to talk over their fellow comics’ sets. It’s one thing for a guy who works for the phone company to decide it’s his duty to “challenge” the fella onstage. It’s another thing completely for someone who knows what it’s like to stand on that stage to make it hard for paying customers to hear what they came for. OK, rant is over. I get nosebleeds from the soapbox sometimes…

In any event, the moral of the story is: Shut the hell up when you’re at a concert of any kind. People don’t pay to hear you talk – especially me.

J.

This post was sponsored by the Fists Make The Best Muzzles Committee.