(Why I Became a Comic, Part 1)
I got fired from ‘Burning Blue,’ ostensibly, for calling a woman a ‘cunt.’ But that’s not all the calculus in the equation.
Let’s three-arrow-bloop-bloop-bloop TiVo rewind from the dropping of the cuntomic bomb to the previous night, where I got another anonymous and petty note, this time about my underwear.
The costume designer had quit the show several weeks ago, so we actors, for the most part, were left to our own devices in terms of wardrobe decisions. Considering I’m naked and/or half naked throughout, I bought a pair of goofy American flag boxers to wear in the second act as a comedy call-back to silly Smiley-Face boxers I sported in the first act. “Shit, I’m stripping and naked and wet in November, the least these fuckers could do is let me have a little fun with my underpants,” I reasoned. Again, the bookended boxers got a big laugh plus they completely worked with the irreverent mischievousness of my character. However, it wasn’t written in the play, hence the note that Thursday – despite the fact that I had been wearing them the whole week.
The new directive confused and frustrated me, so I asked the stage manager why I couldn’t wear them. He didn’t answer; he simply smiled sarcastically and left in a spritz of gay smugness. When I went to my DRESSING room, I was further chagrined by the fact that my underwear had literally been HIDDEN from me.
I don’t want to go TOO DEEP into the specifics of the firing, but let me just say this: apparently, some women get offended when you call them ‘cunts’. I seem to find, In particular, that cunts think it especially offensive. Although I understand the catastrophic power of the ‘c’ word, I think when used appropriately it can accurately describe the heinous behavior of a woman (or man) better than anything else in Webster’s. Now there are some people who liken it to the ‘n’ word, and those people are ‘STUPID cunts.’ The ‘n’ word is a racial epithet, while the ‘c’ word strictly connotes behavior. In order for someone to get the label of a ‘c’, their behavior has to be ‘c’ – worthy, and it has nothing to do with color of skin or type of genitalia the person possesses.
This woman was ‘c’ – worthy, to say the least.
Without instructions about WHAT drawers to don and not having any other options provided by the production, I retrieved my funny boxers and wore them onstage the following night. As I came offstage for a quick change in the dressing room, the assistant stage manager – let’s call her Twatty McStinkybox — barged in and verbally accosted me in front of the entire cast for wearing the aforementioned boxers… loudly… during a show. Did I mention it was during a show?
I quietly told her to address it “after the show.” She said, “Fuck you.” I told her not to speak to me “like that in the middle of a performance.” She repeated, “Fuck you.” Target activated, C bomb dropped. Tada! Simple math.
