An individual exhibiting such uniqueness or individuality that he or she will cause a roomful of bar cronies to exclaim, "That's one interesting motherfucker!" Actual sexual relations with one's mother are not required.
Sean C Tarry
Saint Louis; a genius among idiots
From the murk of stand-up comedy, and among the fetid twaddle that its rank-and-file performers produce at brain-crunching consistency, there's an illumination. A blinding beacon of originality that lights an iridescent path for a deluge of stupidity and sensibly orchestrated nonsense that makes most people feel indignantly uncomfortable, but one that sets Louis C.K. miles adrift of his contemporaries.
Louis was born some time in the twentieth century and grew up just outside of Portland. Oregon or Maine. It doesn't matter which one. In fact, for the sake of not giving a shit, most of the facts of Louis' life can go unmentioned. And besides, details have a tendency to become odious with time anyway.
But one thing that is important is the fact that he has fucked all of our mothers. This is, of course, his own account of his prior sexual relations, but as no mother has come forward to deny his admissions as being the truth; we should take his bold statement very seriously and salute him for catapulting the legion of Interesting Motherfuckerhood into a pure, uncharted realm of literalism and eccentricity.
Aside from being rated (as compiled by killermovies.com; a Western World renowned comedy discussion forum) number ninety-eight on the 100 Greatest Stand-ups of All Time list - sandwiched in between Sandra Bernhard and Janeane Garofalo; a position envied by nobody but perhaps Rosie O'Donnell - Louis is also a writer, director, producer, actor and master impressionist who has yet to see his spectacular re-enactment of a man with poor vision mistaking a glass of water for a pig equalled. A feat that he accomplished on the Conan O'Brien Show some time ago.
It's crystal clear, like the diamond eyes of the Buddha man, that Louis possesses a beautiful kind of magic. A magic that spews ignorant gaiety from his soul and sprinkles laughter on many-a-twisted, loathsome mind. And his resume's not that shabby either.
He's done a plethora of comedy writing and producing through the years including stints working for Late Night with Conan O'Brien, Late Show with David Letterman, The Dana Carvey Show, The Chris Rock Show and Cedric The Entertainer Presents and has even found the time to write and direct Pootie Tang and Tomorrow Night; two hugely unsuccessful films. Do you see now how odious and burdensome details become?
He's won an Emmy for his writing, and an Ace for his producing as well as being recognized with the Grand Prize at the Aspen Shortfest in 1993 for his film Ice Cream. But it's his stand-up and the brutality and discordance that he slings it with that typifies what his work is all about.
I had the pleasure of attending one of Saint Louis' performances at the Laugh Factory in Toronto in '94, or '95. Maybe '96. I can't remember. And again, prudence will mind the details. But it was a year prior to seeing him live when he had gained my respect.
I had seen him do a mucho abbreviated version of his routine on Conan, which I enjoyed quite a bit, and was surprised, but glad, to see that he was given the chance to sit and chat with the lanky, red-headed host once his four minute jig was up. It was then, sitting in Conan's guest chair sipping on whatever was in his mug, that he enlightened the audience with a clever witticism of his.
"I understand that you have an uncanny talent that you like to share with people, Louis," Conan said with quiet promptitude.
"What?" Louis asked in reply.
Laughs, and Conan looking amusedly confused.
"Your talent that you share with people."
"Oh yeah!" Louis said excitedly, shifting in his seat in preparation, "I can take a song title.any song title, and give you the opposite of that song title."
Conan, playing along, asks him what he means by that.
"Go ahead. Give me a song title, and I'll give you its opposite," he mumbles, speech trailing off.
"Okay," says Conan, "The Cars' Let the Good Times Roll."
Louis, deep in thought for a short moment, blurts out with irreverent confidence, "Make the Bad Times Behave."
Much laughter and hoots of approval from crazies in the crowd.
"Okay, lets do one from the audience now," said Conan swept up in the oddity that is Louis.
"Mother's Little Helper," someone shouts from the throngs.
"Alright. That's a good one," approves Conan, "The Rolling Stones' Mother's Little Helper."
More concentration from Louis, and a response, "Father's Large Hindrance."
The crowd are pleased, Louis grins, and Conan laughs and signs off for another day.
That guy was funny, I thought. And I can't stomach most stand-up comics. In fact, I abhor nearly all of them. They're twitchy, unimaginative, attention seeking, witless dolts for the most part who formulate every last word of every last joke and idea until all of the funny has been siphoned right out of the things.
I understand that my silver tonguedness piques my harsh criticism of most comedians, but by recognizing the suffering incompetence of most of them, I'm building another up in praise. A touch of the Bodhisattva for ya'.
Anyway, where were we? That's right, I had the privilege of experiencing Louis in Toronto some time back. I went with my brother and good friend and had some drinks beforehand while we waited for the first couple of relatively unfunny persons to finish their yackety-yak yakka. But the wait was well worth it, because upon Louis' arrival he told us all, about a hundred or so people, of many great things, and let us in on some of his most intense personal ambitions; like standing in a long line at the bank and giving the finger to the innocent five-year-old kid that's staring out of truthful curiosity, "Make him deal with that for the rest of his life," said Louis wild-eyed.
Or his yearning to win the State Lottery, enabling him to accomplish a couple more of his harping desires. If he won millions of dollars, he told us, he would first legally change his name to Cunty McShitballs, and then proceed to do a lot of philanthropy work for the community, simply to get his new name mentioned on television or in the newspapers.
As well, as most disturbed genius' minds operate, his money would be put to another use. He would buy some property and open up a pet food store called Shitass Petfuckers. Again, solely to get an antagonistically rhythmic name noticed.
Furthering his dementia, inside this store would be but one item; a single can of dog food priced at one million dollars. And he would do this just to watch old men hold the can up and say, "What? One million dollars? There's no way I'm payin' one million dollars for a can of dog food."
It was a very funny evening all the while he was on stage, and it went pretty much like that the whole way through, with Louis believing in every twisted word that he spoke. But that was all a long time ago. And most of the ideals and the sense that he spoke of that night have not been forgotten by him, but have merely been swept aside momentarily as he now attempts to conquer much more serious issues on stage. Issues that have made it under the radar of society in general. Things like the denigration of sucking a demons cock, the discrimination of white trash in America, the correct pronunciation of the word pedophile and the amount of American flags decorating the front lawns of upstate New York neighbourhoods.
But perhaps the most earnest and ethereal of all of Louis' conquests to date is the work that he's doing to reverse the racial stereotypes that plague us as humans. He's not suggesting that we abolish stereotypes completely, rather, that we simply reverse them in a sense. They would still be as inane and untrue as the ones that currently exist, but these new stereotypes would not bear any negative connotations. Some examples; Mexicans are made of candy, and the Blacks.they can fly.
Louis' firmly rooted in his insanity, and his skewed vision and often apocalyptic sense of wisdom has won him at least a couple thousand followers and believers across the slums of the country, a number that continues to grow by the tens. His determination and commitment to his cause has singled him out as a perfect candidate for whom McNaughten rules apply, and have cast him so far from the here and now of normalcy that there can be no safe return. But he's an honest, hard working man who tours the country with his dog, and continues to spread his good word with the vengeance and malevolent temperament of a true champion.
Louis also maintains his own website louisck.com, and is patiently waiting out his days until he is sworn in as President of the United States of America in the year 2091.
Godspeed to you Louis, and may Jesus Christ have mercy on each mind that you infect.
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John Saleeby wrote for The National Lampoon while he was in high school, was a stand up comic in New York, and has contributed to the net humor zines Schmuck.com, Campaign Central, and the legendary American Jerk. He's on medication now so he's probably a little nicer now than he was when you met him earlier. Email - firstname.lastname@example.org
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