EDvent/ The F**k You Comedy Show

Not for the weak or squeamish, local comics took turns offending everyone in their paths... wouldn't expect anything less!

BY EMIL TIEDEMANN

BEFORE you read on I must WARN you that I'm about to get all crude up in here! That's right, foul and lewd language will run amuck, so if you're the sensitive type you might want to skip this entry and come back tomorrow.

Seriously, I'm gonna go George Carlin on your ass!

But to be fair, it's only because I have to. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to properly tell you about last week's 'Fuck You Comedy Show' (Tuesday, June 1) at The Hydeaway (10209-100 Ave.).

See, it's already begun!

Like last Thursday's 'Pecha Kucha' event, this very different night out was a last minute decision. My good friend Karen and I made plans just hours prior to head downtown to the Hydeaway, the upper room of the Jekyll & Hyde Pub, to see our mutual friend Kelly Soloduka (pictured bottom left) headline the 'Fuck You Comedy Show' ($7), as part of 'The Super Awesome Comedy Show.'

I've known Soloduka for a couple years now, but never had the privilege of seeing one of his shows, so why not pop my Soloduka cherry with what I assume would be his most vulgar presentation yet?!

I met up with Karen downtown, across the street from the Hydeaway, where we shared an innocent pre-show spliff, just in case the comics weren't cutting it.

I know what you're thinking, too...drugs AND cursing! But I warned you, didn't I? Multiple times, actually! And besides, it's medicinal; without it, how would I tolerate all the assholes I work with? (For legal reasons, I'd like to assure you that I was just kidding). Plus, the donair shop by my place would inevitably go outta business. So, yeah....

Anyways, let's get back on track here.

Although the posters advertised that the first act would hit the stage by 9PM, it remained empty until about quarter to ten. To fill the time we ordered drinks and something to eat, as folks slowly filled seats.

The pub was by no means at full capacity, but considering it was a Tuesday night at a venue called the Hydeaway, it was a decent turnout. Far more intimate than say a Dane Cook routine at Rexall or even the recent Conan O'Brien gig at the River Cree. And besides, neither of those affairs promised a barrage of offensive farce at the expense of every possible societal minority. Oh, and it was all ages.

Our emcee for the night was a rather fleshy gentleman--who are we kidding, he was a fatty--named Matt "stick your finger in my belly" Alaeddine, though most of his fellow comics seemed to refer to him simply as "Powermann." With a middle name like that I'm sure he didn't mind the casual moniker.

"I'm not gay, I just have the accent," Alaeddine insisted, referring to his conspicuous lisp. Being able to poke fun at one's self is a necessary hurdle to concur in this industry and Alaeddine used his disadvantages to his advantage, splitting sides by taking shots at his own flaws.

Alaeddine, who's performed around the world with the Jim Rose Circus and 'Guinea Pig' Ryan Stock, got things off to a good start. Little did we know that we were about to expose our incorrupt, dewy-eyed ears to quips about racist feminists, monkey sex, fat farts, Jews, and even pedophile midgets...ah, sorry, I mean little people.

The first act up was Kentville, Nova Scotia's Jason Cooper, who now spends his spare time masturbating right here in our proud-to-have-him hometown. He impassively gave us his most perverse catalogue of funny, and although his time was short, it was sweet. Nothing to write home about, but for a self-confessed dusty spiel, it wasn't all that bad.

But that's where things got a little awkward.

Sporting a T-shirt that read "Abortion: The Biological Clock's Snooze Button" (a slogan coined by Soloduka himself), Max Mault took the mic and then ignited into a bareknuckled romp that mostly looked like he was emulating a bowler in a game of Charades. Except you're not supposed to talk during Charades.

Mind you, it's somewhat of a stretch to call whatever Mault was doing talking, as it came off more like belligerent name-calling, screeching out insults to anyone who dared text or heckle during his at least lively set. In fact, I had a hard time placing some of his words, buried by insane and distorted punchlines?!

Although I did get some of his jokes, and actually laughed intermittently, the extent of the crowd seemed unimpressed. One young lady was particularly offended, interrupting his set, which Mault knew was lost on us. Perhaps it wasn't the right crowd? Oh well, you win some....

Jean-Paul Fournier had the luxury of following that clusterfuck (hey, they get to swear, so why the hell can't I?), uttering a much more subtle set that tested our tolerance with shots at sex, religion, and even gunts (Google it if you're at a loss).

JP, who reluctantly admitted that he's commonly referred to as "the cunt guy," was a welcome transition into more traditional vulgarity, if such a thing exists. His spot was brief, though he got what he came for. And unlike with Mault, so did we.

Before Soloduka took his place he intervened the scheduled line-up for an impromptu performance by nationally-recognized, Edmonton-born Native-Canadian stand-up comic Howie Miller (pictured above right), who's even had his own half-hour Comedy Now special on the Comedy Network.

"Soloduka is the only white man I respect on the planet," Miller joked as he agreed to spoil us with some of his grandest indecency. Miller garnered our glee with his observations of fat farts and Native relations. He proved a good sport and great last-minute addition to the roster.

Like your standard emcee would, Alaeddine rushed the stage for brief sessions of joke-telling and random absurdity in between sets, but it was one of those inserted warm-ups that will stay with me for years to come. Decades, maybe.

The former stuntman lifted his shirt enough to expose his flab fest, before pulling a chunk of tissue paper out from within his belly button, and then had the audacity to beckon a volunteer to the stage to caress his blubbery flesh!

Unbeknown to us, this brave--or perhaps insane--volunteer had the audacity to accept, and thensome. If you're eating, stop! The young woman then took it upon herself, unprovoked, to finger-bang the man's belly button! I have never been so ashamed of something I've written as I am with that last sentence.

Anyways, Soloduka was the final act to take to the stage, and almost immediately justified his headliner status on the marquee. Actually, it was on a pull-away wooden sign just outside the doors of the Hydeaway.

The former "Funniest Person With a Day Job" finalist highlighted the evening with an onslaught of clever satire, etc., his wit a weapon in its own right. Nothing was off limits, a common theme for the night, and Soloduka didn't back down from jokes that could easily repulse anyone unaware of this show's cruel intentions.

And I'm not just saying these wonderful things because I know the guy. As a matter of fact, I don't even like Kelly, the person (just kidding, Soloduka, you know I 'heart' you!). But seriously, he's got the goods to offend much larger audiences than last week's turnout.

His own NBC sitcom? Now that's just pushing it. But if he keeps on honing his banter and his sharp deliverance, and continues to pounce on opportunistic, crowd-induced ad-libbing, maybe CBC?

Soloduka will be MCing 'amateur night' at The Comic Strip (West Edmonton Mall) on Monday, June 14, in case you're interested, and will then perform in Tofield on Saturday, June 19.

Below is a clip of Howie Miller's routine at the Winnipeg Comedy Festival (CBC):


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