I really don't understand the popularity of White-Trash comedy. Like, they made a sequel to The Blue Collar Comedy Tour called 'The Blue Collar Comedy Tour Rides Again' (you can't give these people too many new words). I mean, I know why people like to hate on The Blue Collar Comedy Tour: it's cool to hate on the following:
a) Americans
b) idiots
c) rednecks
d) people who say "git 'r done"
Let me tell you, this "comedy" tour has all 4 in spades. Anyways, I gave my Dad this DVD for Father's Day one year because he lives up north and he likes redneck comedy. My Dads not an idiot, is he? I had to find out for myself. I watched the whole thing so you won't have to, and will give you the highs, lows, and rock-bottoms, going from best to worst.
I will grade the comedians using a scale I like to call "How Much Do I Want to Die".
Blue Collar Redneck Comedian: Ron White
How Much Do I Want to Die: not so much
Okay, of all the Blue Collar Rednecks, I like Ron White the most. I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I actually find him funny. His schtick is drinking scotch and smoking during his routine. He is like the rich-man's redneck. Here is one of his funnier bits:
"I got thrown out of a bar in New York City. Now, when I say I got thrown out of a bar, I don't mean someone asked me to leave, and we walked to the door together, and I said, "Bye everyone, I gotta go!" Six bouncers picked me up and hurled me out of that bar like I was a Frisbee. Those big old New York bouncers that think that bouncing is cool. They hang out with other bouncers, talking about bouncing. They go home at night and watch 'Road House' and fondle themselves. I got thrown out for wearing a hat. I walk into a bar and the bouncer comes over to me, real pissy, and goes, "Take off the hat!" I'm like, "What's the deal?" He goes, "I'll tell you what the deal is. Gay people in this area wear hats; we're tryin' to keep them out of our club!" Oh really? "The only way we can tell down in Texas is if they have their hair cut like yours." And he got all pissed. Anyway, I took off the hat, and he walked away. About an hour later, I was drinking and I forgot. Ever forget? It happened to me. I put the hat on, and he comes back over. Now, I'm between six-one and six-six depending on which convenience store I'm leaving. I weigh two hundred and thirty pounds, and this guy comes over, poking me in the shoulder. He says, "You're outta here!" and I said, "I don't think so, Scooter!" And I was wrong. They hurled me out of that bar. And then they squared off with me in the parking lot, and I backed down from the fight, cause I don't know how many of them it would have taken to whip my ass. The police got called because we broke a chair on the way out, and I refused to pay for it. I refused to pay for it cause *we* broke it over *my* thigh. And at that point, I had the right to remain silent, but I didn't have the ability. The cop was like, "Mr. White, you are being charged with drunk in public." I was like, "Hey, hey, hey! I was drunk in a bar! They threw me into public! I don't want to be drunk in public! I wanna be drunk in a bar, which is perfectly legal! Arrest them!" He didn't arrest them, instead he had me do a field sobriety check, where you stand on one foot, raise the other foot six inches off the ground, and count to thirty. I made it to "woo." Is that going to be close enough? It wasn't, so they called in for my arrest record. There's some good news! Satellites are linking up in outer space. Computer banks at NASA are kicking on. There's a telegraph in Fritch, Texas, going: beep, beep, beep, beep. Now, I told you that story, to tell you this story. When I was seventeen, I was arrested for being drunk in public and one DWI, which was a bogus charge, cause it turns out they were stopping every driver traveling down that particular sidewalk. And that's profiling. And profiling is wrong! The arresting officer, who I had literally known all my life. This guy lived four doors down the street from me in a town of less than four hundred people. *We've met.* Now, he takes me to jail, and he asks me if I have any aliases. And I was just being a smartass, and I said, "Yeah. They call me, "Tater Salad!" " Seventeen years later, I'm handcuffed on a bench in New York with blood coming out of my nose, and this cop goes, "Are you Ron 'Tater Salad' White?" Ya caught me! Ya caught the Tater!"
All in all, Ron White's stand-up is enjoyable. I would check out Ron White's "You Can't Fix Stupid", because it's less redneck, and more f-words.
Blue Collar Redneck Comedian: Jeff Foxworthy
How Much Do I Want to Die: not die...maybe just have my ears ripped off
Jeff Foxworthy reminds me of 'King of the Hill'; redneck jokes that are funny in small doses. Jeff Foxworthy definately has a niche audience, and it's not me. I will admit though that he was pretty original back in the early 90's when he first started doing the whole redneck thing while everyone else was doing the whole "my black mama so crazay" thing. But now? This is the best we've got:
"If you think NSync is where your dirty dishes are, you might be a redneck / If you missed fifth grade graduation because you had jury duty, you might be a redneck."
Yeah, I know. And he's the headliner. Anyways, it's pretty terrible. I love that he throws an NSync joke out there 3 years after Justin leaves the band and Lance say's "I'm Gay". Oh Foxworthy, you silly redneck. I hate your stand up, but I loves that little moustache.
Blue Collar Redneck Comedian: Bill Engvall
How Much Do I Want to Die: alot. Everytime he tells an unfunny joke, I eat a sleeping pill.
Bill Engvall is like that redneck neighbour who tells one marginally funny joke and some idiot makes the mistake of telling him he should do stand up. No, you shouldn't. You are not funny. He has the most annoying twang I have ever heard. The first time I went to the States as a kid, we were in Kentucky and I was baffled at the way they spoke. I asked my mom what was wrong with everyone here, and she said they talk differently than us. I naturally assumed that they were all re-re's until I finally learned what an 'accent' was. (I still think they are all re-re's, but that's another post for another day). Here is a little sampling of Bill Engvall's "comedy":
"My daughter's right in the middle, which is where you want them to be I think. She's friends with the popular kids, she's friends with the unpopular kids, which is cool, until they bring home one of their friends that you don't see eye to eye with. Like, the other day she brought home a friend who's into this goth stuff. Oh my God! Have you seen these little freaks? What happened! With the black nail polish, black lipstick, black eyeliner, black hair, and Liquid Paper-white face. I'm sorry, didn't we used to call that "Halloween"? But, I'm trying to be nice to her because she's my daughter's friend. My daughter says, "Daddy, this is my friend Lucy." I said, "Well, hey Lucy... fer! She looked at me like, "I will set you ablaze right now."
Yes, she will set you ablaze like the firey wreckage of Dale Earnhardt's stock car the night he died. And I will be there laughing. Dance, puppets, dance.
Blue Collar Redneck Comedian: Larry The Cable Guy
How Much Do I Want to Die: excuse me, that should say "How Much Do I Want Him to Die"
I really can't get into how much I truly, truly hate Larry The Cable Guy. I'd start talking about him, but I usually get so much heartburn and nausea that I drink a whole bottle of Pepto-Bismol. My doctor says I am wrecking my liver and am on the verge of a heart attack and that I shouldn't inflict any more unreasonable damage on my body. I cannot do this idiot justice, so I will leave it to a professional. David Cross will be more than happy to explain the complex innerworkings of Larry The Cable Guy to you through a letter he wrote to the King of the Morons.
I love chocolate-covered pretzels. I like to make them in my spare time. That may be why I am a fat-ass (not really, but let’s pretend). Anyways, they had these in Canada for a quick minute before pulling them and sending them back to America. I guess chocolate and pretzels were no match for the awesome taste sensations of whale blubber, seal eyes, and poutine.
”They’re round, like me”? What the hell? They aren’t even trying to sugar-coat who is eating the Monster Box of Flipz, are they? They might as well have just put ”I’m a fucking fat piece of shit…what’s 38 grams of chocolate more?” After I read the back of the box (I like to call them Nestle’s Daily Affirmations) I just imagined the losers who bought several Monster Boxes of Flipz from Target that day - the 51 year old Grandmother who is raising her Grandbabies cause “Carol can’t get her life together long enough to make sure these damn youngins have a sandwich or two”, the lardasses with copious amounts of brain damage who are also picking up a dozen multi-pacs of Capri Sun, and me. Hooray! Anyways, I won’t lie like this shit isn’t delicious, I’m just saying it is no damn wonder why Americans are so fucking fat – it’s not that the food is 99% garbage. It’s because this box was like $1! You know how much a box of candy like this would be in Canada? $3.99. We have the same shit up here, it’s just way more expensive. It’s like that Chris Rock bit where he says if you wanna stop murders, make bullets cost 5 grand. Same as in the US. Charge Canadian prices for cheese and ice cream (two things that are waaay too expensive here) and watch those fatties drop that weight. You know how much an assorted sub at SubWay costs up here? $5. And that’s for a fucking 6-inch, too. You know how much a turkey is? $6. That’s right – the healthy choice is only a dollar more. Fine, but why is the assorted sub $5? That shit is made from snakes, raccoons, shoes, and a big fat question mark. That sangweesh should be like $1.99, for a 12-inch too. I need a deal; those bastards took away the Sub Stamps. That was the only thing making me wanna live. Bring back Sub Stamps, you cheap bastards!
