Politically Correct Comedy

Last night my comedy cohort had a show. We all go there an hour early to watch the cohort behind us perform. Ah, there's nothing like shoddy little Sunday night improv sets. It was a goofy time. There are good scenes, there are far more mediocre scenes, and there are rare stupid stupid stupid scenes that are honestly more enjoyable than a fully-perfected Pulitzer stage play.

So this scene was happening on stage with an American man and a thick-accented German woman. She was explaining how her parents are "retarded now" (audience went "eee" like one might do upon opening a moldy tub of Cool Whip). Then she went on to explain, "They just hang around and need entertainment." Oh. Okay. She's playing a character whose English is a little off and confused retired with retarded. Okay. Unbelievable because German people are language-learning robots, but okay. We all let out sighs of relief...until two other people on this gal's team show up PORTRAYING RETARDED PARENTS. The missed the subtext. "No," I audibly whispered. But it was too late. Two improvisers were impersonating senior citizen retarded Germans. Lord save us all.

So, it was our turn. Our teach corralled us backstage. Several people were horrified by the audacity of the previous team. Others got it was a big misunderstanding. We were clumped in the greenroom. I said, "Let's make a pact right here, right now, as a group, to never impersonate retarded people onstage." We all put our hands in the middle of the circle." But Wolf shook his head. "I can't make that promise," he said. "You never know."Then Pinker recoiled in agreement, "I mean, what if the scene calls for it?" Another guy: "Honestly, I think I'd play a really good retarded character if the scene called for it." The scene will never necessitate mocking the mentally handicapped! I shouted. "Okay, hands in." Pinker sighed. Then quickly he yelped, "Always play retarded people on three! One, two, th--" and luckily our coach came back in the room and started a warm-up exercise.

Adventures in Gym Class: Part I

After the marathon I wanted a change from running. April 1st I purchased a month group fitness pass at the university gym. It's been an experience.

-My first step class I was told, "This is really an advanced step class..." I thanked the instructor, but I knew I could keep up. How tired could one get from merely stepping up and down on an itty platform? UM, A LOT TIRED. Also, so so confused. Like, how do full-on Britney Spears backup dances happen in a 50 minute step class?! Several times in the routine I completely lost the choreography and just marched in place.

-There is a Mennonite girl who takes Zumba with me. If you don't know about Zumba, it is Latin hip-hop cardio. Lots of hips. Ol' Menny busts it out like the rest of us--except instead of booty shorts, she's wagging a huge tan floor-length skirt.

-I've come to really love Step now that I have the basics down pat. It's a workout for the body and mind because you have to continually remember the combos while doing them. I like running to unwind, to clear my head, but this is a different type of head-clearing. Nothing in the world can possibly pop in the noodle when I'm rocking-horsing like a champion. It makes me sad these types of exercise are seen as "girly" and stupid because they're actually challenging in a completely different way than lifting weights (for example). More Dudes in Step Classes 2014.

-My fave class is Boot Scoot. Yeah, that's the real title. It's aerobic country line dancing, AND IT IS GLORIOUS. Apparently this opinion is not widespread because sometimes I am the only person in class. Besides the retarded man who sometimes joins, talking nonstop to himself as "Wagon Wheel" blares and I try not to grapevine into him.

Watch Your Mouth

Two weeks ago in Theory class, one student--full disclosure, one the rest of us don't know (because it's a class of two playwrights, five Theatre for Youthers, and This One Chick)--said, "This is gonna sound retarded, but--"

And Rabbit laid down the law. Not rudely, but curtly, she said--deadpan--"Can we not use that word?"

I know, for a definite fact, at least five of us had been thinking it, and we breathed a sigh of relief that it didn't have to be us. Ahhhh, grad school peers. The only community where I'm not the most annoyingly PC.

Flash-forward to today:

Our Theory professor says, "We only have five weeks left." I lift my eyebrows. Whoa. Time flies, and my peer with the tiny red curls shrieks, "Jesus Christ!" and This Chick gasps a "Wooooow." I think she agrees with us that summer is so sudden, when she tacks on a, "Can we not saaaaay that please?"

My peer peeps a sincere sorry, and then a "It's just, I'm surprised..." Trail off.

This REALLY bothers me, and I know it shouldn't. We did the same thing to her--we aligned and made her feel bad for saying A WORD. Just a little word that alludes to disability. But it was unforgivable. It was also unforgivable to me that anyone ask anyone to care if the full name of a Biblical character is said aloud. But, I suppose it was That Chick's right? I mean, my peer agreed to being inappropriate by apologizing, did she not?

JESUS CHRIST, why does this bother me? Why are words so powerful? Why do I despise people who say certain things and despise even more the people who despise people who say certain other things?!

Shots

ACTF 2011--Huntie plays a man with one arm. I am his partner.

Today I took a Zumba class. I've taken Zumba before at the Y in the Midwest. There it was very salsa-y with a bit of hip hop. Here at the biggest party school in the country? Zumba involves a lot of butt-shaking and shimmies and the salsa beats are few and far between. More raunchtastic rap including a fully choreographed exploration of the song "Shots." You know the one? The chorus is "SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!"

Anyway, based on the aforementioned facts, men rarely visit Zumba. But, today, we had a special guest. A 40something retarded man. This man really enjoyed Zumba, but he had no idea what he was doing. He kept approaching girls in class and starting to ask what to do, but the moves go so fast, even if we WANTED to help the man, we could not. He aimlessly bopped around and eventually picked up some weights and made everyone really nervous.

A room of young women shaking their booties plus one confused retarded dude pumping weights randomly. SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!

Eventually, he tried to dance in front with the instructor, and she pointed him back to the masses.

In the locker room I saw the tube-top wearing, rap mouthing, instructor. "Hey," I said. "Way to navigate through an awkward class."

She blinked at me and put on a tiny pout. "You thought it was awkward?" She was bummed.

"Oh! No! Just...the company..."

She cocked her head to the side, bewildered, then decided to smile it off, and said, "It was really hot in there!" Then she skipped off.

I am a horrible person apparently.