No Truth is Marching On

Another night in J-Ward, another new friend wowed.

Lessons learned from Mama J's on a Friday night: Arrive at 4:00, like the couple next to us (he'd also been there last night, pre-KRS-One at the National) or after 7:00 (happy hour is over) when the waits are shorter than the length of the meal, a worthy goal.

Ordinarily, I'd never attempt Mama's at prime time but that's the window we had available and I wanted to show off the neighborhood fried chicken and cake. Okay, and the fried catfish, the perfectly cooked greens and the corn muffins.

As it was, with the bar two deep and a crowd of people waiting by the door, I used the time to school my newbie on the importance of choosing your cake variety early to have it cut and set aside before the cake's all gone.

Coincidentally, chocolate cake with white icing is tops for both of us, so that worked out very nicely.

We were making do with one stool when the bartender pointed us to the end of the bar and two open stools, but I no sooner planted my backside when the stool's previous owner got indignant with me. Of course I moved and the barkeep apologized, but also whispered that she'd been ready for some new faces, namely us.

A table soon opened up so I could introduce my first-timer to Jackson Ward soul food while the Spinners and O'Jays played overhead. I pity the fool who isn't won over by that combination.

Our massive slice o' cake had to accompany us to Richmond Comedy Coalition for "High There," the weekly improvised sit-com set in an inherited head shop. Odd as that might sound, it isn't the first time I've shown up there with cake in hand (last time it was Garnett's).

Cake and comedy, it's a natural, don't you think?

Tonight's sealed envelope revealed the two-pronged plot: High Times magazine was coming to review High There while the two ditzy staffers plot to get a 50-cent an hour raise. Grace needs it for her kombucha brewing start-up and Townsend tells Grace she needs more money because her cat, Mr. Tibalt, has colitis and it's getting very expensive (Grace: "I know, I follow the blog!").

The dreadlocked reviewer Star Brody shows up and mistakenly interviews Joe, the owner of the bookshop upstairs, while the staff waits on a woman they think is the reviewer but is actually writing for Water Aerobics Weekly ("Yes, weekly, there's enough water aerobics news for a weekly!").

And if you're dying to know how the shop fared with the review, you'll be happy to know that it was rated three pot leaves and a half. Not only that, but the staff managed to sell the 8-foot king bong (with matching tiara), so they both got 75-cent raises.

Let's just have a moment, shall we, to appreciate the RCC talent, a group of people who are able to improvise such hilarious situations and dialog on the fly.

Just like when I saw episode #1, between scenes we were shown the cheesiest vintage commercials known to man. I'm talking Mr. T cereal and Valley Ball, a Van Nuys bar boasting a vodka drip and topless dancers. An amusement park called Flintstones Bedrock City in British Columbia ("Kids, get your dinosaur driving license!") and a Chuck Norris movie of non-stop violence called "Code of Silence."

After this week's episode ended with a group hug, our host invited everyone to stay for the late show, but, alas, my companion works tomorrow morning, so we walked back to my house and said goodnight, but not before I was given way too much credit for dreaming up a great evening.

Stop that, it's just not all that tough to do where I live.

I couldn't think of any reason not to go right back for the late show, even getting the same seat, for a show based on Reddit's ridiculous postings. The funny part was, more than a few of the comedy crew admitted that they had no idea what Reddit was before planning this show.

Oh, good, then it's not just me.

A screen shot of several Reddit pages and the accompanying comments were screened on the wall, honing in on a guy named Superthug with an obviously Photoshopped gash on his head, a bullshit caption and, in the comments, a brief video of what claimed to be "Siri's ass."

I suppose for those of you who follow Siri's directions, this might hold some appeal.

Believe it or not, this evolved into a skit starring a man with a head gash because of having sex with a shark (but still looking for more action) and a stilted-voiced Siri checking her data base, only to inform him that Helen Mirren was "DTF."

You can challenge me on this, but I'm willing to bet that Helen Mirren and "DTF" have never before been used in the same sentence.

After a miscue by our host who tried to send us home before the second part of the program. we again scanned Reddit, this time coming up with a piece about a guy who took credit for telling Obama, "Yes, we can" and creating his campaign slogan. The comments section yielded a reference to Forest Gump and his indelible effect on history and they were off and running.

Two brothers both want to be president, but it's the simple-minded Marquise who talks of nothing but recycling, composting and garbage (his three-pronged political plan) who gets the support of big money, Angela Merkel and the little people, who chant, "Marquise, Marquise, Marquise."

Along the way, Dark Justice gives a speech while others hum the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and an interpretive dance is done. "Did you just shoot me with an interpretive dance gun?" DJ asks Marquise incredulously. Sure did and probably recycled it afterwards.

You'd think people couldn't make this stuff up, but I'm here to tell you they can. Glory, glory, hallelujah.