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Saget's Comedy Guide

And git-fiddles aplenty


This just in: Bob Saget's pretty funny. Just ask all the old ladies that lined up for his show Friday evening at The Comedy Zone, or else all the stoners who expressed admiration for him when I visited a local club later that evening. (In the history of television, few shows inspire more absolute giddiness among maryjaners than America's Funniest Home Videos, which Saget used to host.)

But this wasn't your grandmother's Bob Saget, or the stoners', either. This Saget's performance was bluer than Sylvia Plath having her period -- a performance equal to the dirtiest bits Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy ever dreamed up.

Which isn't to say it even approached being as funny, mind you. But for sheer shock value -- hey, that's the guy from Full House talking about getting a blowjob! -- it was rather entertaining. Perhaps more entertaining was watching the crowd's reaction, the grouping of old ladies in particular. About, oh, 12 seconds into the show, Saget dropped an MF-bomb, and our gals nearly spit out their drinks, eyes widening in a fashion that I wished I would have caught on tape (who knows? Got it on tape? Send it in -- you could win $10,000! Or a T-shirt). Saget noticed the reaction, leaned down to address the women, and apologized. "It's OK," one of the ladies said. "We're just shocked."

About 30 minutes and a drink later, the women were laughing along with the rest of the crowd, especially when Saget would present that most guaranteed of laugh-getters, the Dick Joke. "I sent away for a penis enlargement kit the other day," Saget told the crowd. "They sent back a pair of binoculars." (Don't think this is funny? Picture Danny Tanner, the Full House Saget, delivering the line. Still don't think it's funny? Picture...OK, you're right. It's not that funny.)

Upon leaving, a friend of mine and I both tried to remember the show, hoping to add a few Saget zingers to our mental joke files. Together, we remembered one joke, the one listed above. Still, this sum total easily bested the first two comedians. The host for the evening was a large woman who spent the night harassing Democrats and delivering knee-slappers about how, when she wears a thong, it looks like "dental floss." Deciding that we thought the joke was funnier when we first heard it in third grade, we wondered if we might be able to report her to the city for a Comedy Zoning violation: "Sorry, ma'am, but you're going to have to leave. You're not funny, and in violation of the city's comedy code."

Who knows? They seem to be shutting down everything else these days.

Saturday morning, I decided to check out the Carolina Guitar Show at the Oasis Shrine Auditorium. I was invited by a guitarist friend of mine, who manages to still like me even though I only know seven chords and play them all incessantly (My excuse? It worked for the Ramones!).Man, what a lot of guitars. Thousands, in fact, ranging in price from $150 to $40,000 (that last price was for the guitar used on the cover of The Rolling Stones' Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out). A lot of people checked out the pricey axe, but no one I saw was suitably taken to get their wah-wahs out. It might be because the sign for that particular guitar said "$40,000K," which, translated, actually means 40 million dollars. No wonder no one was biting.

To boot, there were bass guitars, lap steels, pedal steels, guitar pedals, and loads more, including a kind of embarrassing exchange -- Me: "How much you want for your Big Muff there?" Him: "$150. Still with its original box!"

Being afraid that my lack of ability would cause some sort of Medusa-like turn-to-stone effect if I were to touch anything, I kept my hands to myself. Not many others did, however, creating a weird multi-guitar cacophony that Glenn Branca would kill for. A little "Smoke on the Water" here, a little "Tears in Heaven" there? Man, what a racket.

Of course, there was the usual handful of hyper-purists who looked like they probably only left their houses once a year (to attend this show, no doubt), which is something you get anytime you get a bunch of collectors together to geek out and talk shop. However, after my no-pictures-allowed experience at a recent gun show, I was pleased that people actually invited me to shoot their fancy axes.

Screw the gun show. Getting your ya-ya's out with a few hot licks is way more enjoyable than popping off a few rounds of ammo, and safer besides. Unless, of course, you're Keith Richards.

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