Immigrant Song

Recap of the 5th Anniversary of Anti-Karaoke Madrid

2012-02-02T13:07:45Z

I’m now on the high-speed train headed back to Barna… Last night we celebrated the 5th anniversary of Anti-Karaoke Madrid, and I’m still recovering from the euphoria and exhaustion. Last night I was so busy I didn’t even have a moment to take a sip of beer!

Truthfully, I experience about one tenth of what the audience does in each show, especially in highly organized special events like anniversaries. There are so many behind-the-scenes details to pull off correctly that I have no time to actually see the show, except for when I slip down into the audience to hand out Cheetos and candy; or when I can peep through the curtain; or — and these can be some of the most exciting and intriguing moments — hearing the roar of the audience from the dressing room, without being able to see what is actually going on.

Between the cake (“brazo de gitano” – a Spanish cream-filled sponge roll literally called “gypsy’s arm”), spraying the crowd with champagne, the slices of Pan Bimbo (the Spanish equivalent of Wonder Bread) flying through the air, filling people’s mouths with whipped cream, plus some wonderful prepared acts (wait for the videos of “Thunderstruck” by Manolito Metal & Rigodon or Lady Madrid’s “Somebody to Love”), it was an intense night of unforgettable moments and, yes, love. Thank you, El Sol club and everybody who’s ever come to A.K Madrid in these past 5 years, for converting that one Wednesday of every month into one of the happiest days of my life, without fail. Specifically, I’d like to thank some of the people who’ve been there since the beginning and who have helped to make this show what it is: Nacho and Marcela of El Sol Club, Sergio Jungle, Rafa Gil, Jorge Alvariño, Eugenio Mira, Manolito Metal and Rigodón, Santi Pardo, Uvejo, Eddie Ramone, el Ginecólogo de Nicole Kidman, the folks who schlep all the way from Toledo to enjoy 3 hours of Madrid crazy (Gonzalo, Carolina, Alejandra, Luis and Ricardo), plus more recent friends like el Inquebrantable McGinty, Teresa Aguirre, Metalguay, Crazy Brunette, Nikki, Peter Parker, the Barrero Bros., Bombazo Platino, Jaime “Coco” Falero Puche and Nuno; and our current photographers Naroa and Torke.

Of course I am not mentioning nearly all the people who have contributed to making this show great and I apologize for that, but my brain is half-dead and this post is already reading like one of those long Oscar speeches. But, whether you’ve ever performed onstage or have just enjoyed the show from the crowd: you know who you are. So thank you!

Stay tuned to the Anti-Karaoke page on Facebook for the chronicle of the entire evening, with photos and videos of each performance. And I hope to see you next month, on March 7th, for Carnaval, Anti-Karaoke style! Nothing goes better with A.K. than freaky costumes and lots of drinking, so spread the word!

It Also Happens in Madrid

2012-02-02T12:06:59Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXAJxDsRT20

In my comedy show, I talk about the señoras that walk in pairs, connected at the elbow. This an exótic experience for someone from the U.S., where people neither tend to walk the streets and the existence of the elderly is a well-kept secret.

When I first arrived in Barcelona, I thought that maybe this curiosity might be peculiar to the Ciutat Comtal. But as you can see, the phenomenon of the Señoras Connected at the Elbow is a universal one.

También pasa en Madrid

2012-02-02T12:07:55Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXAJxDsRT20

En mi show de comedia, hablo de las señoras que andan conectadas por el codo. Toda una experiencia exótica para una persona de EE.UU., en donde la gente no suele andar la por la calle, ni suele haber ancian@s a la vista.

Cuando llegué a Barcelona, pensaba que esta curiosidad igual era algo propio de la Ciutat Comtal. Pero como podéis ver, el fenómeno de las señoras conectadas por el codo es algo universal.

Mañana, el 5º Aniversario de A.K. Madrid

2012-01-31T16:13:33Z

El miércoles 1 de Febrero, celebraremos el 5º aniversario de Anti-Karaoke Madrid en la Sala El Sol. Será un show lleno de sorpresas y actuaciones especiales. Espero veros allí en esa conmemoración de cinco años de A.K. en Madtown! Las puertas abrirán a las 22h.

Estás apuntado a la página Facebook de Anti-Karaoke? Allí salen todas las últimas novedades sobre el show, incluyendo las crónicas de cada semana.

Anti-Karaoke Madrid 5º Aniversario
Miércoles 1 de Febrero, 22h.-1h.
Sala El Sol
c/ Jardines, 3
Madrid

Mañana, PLANETA CATALUNYA

2012-01-25T17:34:14Z

Mañana será el último jueves del mes, y sabemos lo que significa eso: otra oportunidad de ver mi show de comedia, PLANETA CATALUNYA!

Recuerda que si has venido anteriormente y has reservado en mi web, Atrapalo o Facebook, puedes apuntarte al REPEAT OFFENDER PROGRAM y entrar gratis si traes uno o más vírgenes al show.

Nos vemos mañana en el Planeta!

PLANETA CATALUNYA
Jueves 26 de Enero, 23h.
Café Teatre Llantiol
c/ Riereta 7, Barcelona
Entrada: 12€ sin reserva, 10€ con reserva, 6€ con reserva en Facebook

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Another Day, Another Dumbass

2012-01-25T14:19:13Z

The doorbell just rang. I look through the peep-hole…

Same thing as always: a nervous-looking guy. “Who is it?” I say through the door in a tired voice, because this has happened enough times that I know exactly who it is.

“I’m here for a massage?” he half-whispers uncertainly.

“You’ve made a mistake. This is a residence.”

Without missing a beat, the guy asks: “Which apartment is it then?”

Unbelievable.

“Why the hell are you asking me which apartment it is???” I shout. Not because I’m mad, ’cause I’m really not; ’cause it’s fun! “Fuck if I know; that’s your job to know which damn apartment you’re going to, isn’t it?” The poor guy’s eyes open wide and he turns and runs away.

Look: it’s bad enough to mess up the address of the place you’re going to get a hand job. But on top of it, to ask the person you’re bothering? It’s obvious why the guy needs massage parlors: what normal woman would tolerate such ineptitude?

Otro día, otro inútil despistado

2012-01-28T11:21:36Z

Acaba de sonar el timbre de mi casa. Miro por la mirilla…

Lo de siempre: un tío con cara nerviosa.

“Quíen es?” digo por la puerta con voz cansada, porque sé exactamente quién es.

“Vengo para un masaje?” dice con un medio-susurro.

“Usted se ha equivocado. Ésta es una casa.”

“Qué piso es?” pregunta el tío.

Esto es el colmo.

“Qué cojones me preguntas por qué piso es???” grito por la puerta. No porque esté enojada, porque realmente no la estoy; porque es divertido! “Cómo lo voy a saber yo? Eso es tu trabajo!” Pone cara de sorpresa y se va corriendo.

Hostia: es suficientemente inútil equivocarse de piso. Pero encima, preguntarle a la persona a quien estás molestando? Queda claro por qué el tío depende de las masajistas: qué mujer normal aguantaría tanta ineptitud?

Ulysses and The Shawarma Man

2012-01-22T15:50:47Z

Last night I had plans to see a movie. I didn’t have time to make dinner at home, so on my way there I stopped at a döner kebab.

It was empty and the proprietor was nowhere in sight. The only noise came from the Tee-Vee, loudly blaring the fútbol game. There was a sad, desolate feel to the place.

A voice said, “One moment, please. I’ll be right with you.”

A stocky, older Middle-Eastern man appeared. He had a head of perfectly styled, slicked-down black hair, like Ronald Reagan. “What can I get you?” he said in a high-pitched, slightly effeminate voice. This was an elegant man.

“A shawarma sandwich, please.”

“Coming right up.” As he cut the meat off the big, rotating spit, he said over his shoulder, “Do they like fútbol in your country?”

“My country is here now,” I said. “But they prefer fútbol americano where I’m from.”

“Oh, you’re from America!”

I still tend to get nervous when I tell a Middle-Eastern person I’m from the U.S.A., after all the shit that’s gone down there: Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel, taking out Bin Laden… I can’t help it.

“Yes. New York.”

“Oh, New York!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s wonderful! Have you ever been there?”

“No, never. I’ve always wanted to visit the U.S. It seems like an incredible country.”

“It really is; especially New York. A city full of immigrants from every part of the world, and they all get along.” A little exaggerated, perhaps, but basically true.

“I’ve heard that; they all get along!”

“Not everywhere in America, but in New York, they do. In New York, you’ll find a Syrian restaurant next to a Chinese take-out, next to a Jewish deli, next to an Italian restaurant… and they all get along. Plus, you get to eat a lot of great food from all over the world!” I added, laughing.

“I’ve heard that,” said the schawarma man, turning toward the counter to put the lettuce, tomato, and onion into the sandwich. “Maybe when they were in their home countries, they fought with one another, but when they get to the U.S., they get along.”

“Yep. They have other things to worry about once they get there. Where are you from?”

“Syria.”

“Oh gosh. I’m so sorry about what’s going on in your country.”

“Yes, it’s terrible,” said the schawarma man, putting the sandwich onto the grill to heat up. ”The Syrian government would have fallen a long time ago if it wasn’t for Russia and China, who send them weapons.”

“It’s all about business, isn’t it?”

“Business?? Mafias! Russia and China are in with the mafias: drugs, arms trafficking… But still, the Syrian government will fall soon. The same family has ruled my country for 42 years. And the people are convinced that everything’s good, when it’s not. That’s why I left 30 years ago. I was sick of it. I am 50 now.”

“You’ve been here since you were 20 years old? So you’ve spent the majority of your life in this country. Your life is here then.”

“Yes, it is. When I go back to Syria to visit… I don’t know. I don’t feel good. I don’t feel like I belong there.”

“How do you feel here?”

“I have a daughter who is 18 years old. She fits in here perfectly. But I do not. I don’t know where I belong.”

“You feel on the outside looking in.”

“Yes. That’s how I feel here. And when I go to Syria, I don’t feel good either. I feel like I’m on a balcony, watching everything happen, from above.”

“You have Ulysses’ Syndrome. Do you know what that is?”

“No.”

“That’s what we immigrants get when we move to another country, another culture. We don’t fit in anywhere. We feel we’re forever wandering the earth, like the hero Ulysses in The Odyssey, unable to get home.”

“Yes! That’s what I feel. We are lost.”

“Yes, we are lost.” I said. ”We don’t know where we belong. We’re floating, like our feet never touch the ground. Sometimes we fall into depressions.”

“Yes, I have depressions sometimes,” he said, taking the shawarma off the grill.

“That’s because you have Ulysses Syndrome. It’s completely normal to feel that way. Lots of people do.”

“Yes,” said the shwarma man, wrapping my perfectly-wrapped, delicious-smelling sandwich in foil. As he handed it to me, he looked into my eyes with a big, warm smile and said: “We are lost!”

“Yes, we are lost,” I said, laughing. Then I paid him and went to see the movie, leaving him to his fútbol game and empty restaurant.

Two Faces of Death in America

2012-01-19T17:18:37Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZ0HsGlqjDA

Two perspectives on death in America: the funny side, and the not-at-all-funny side.

My friend Neal sent the above video to me today. It’s one of those things that is so hilarious, it’s hard to believe that no one’s thought up this exact scene for a movie or a series. A case of life being more hilarious than art itself!

From there, I clicked on a related video, of a young woman dancing at her mother’s funeral. The top comment got my attention:

“im a 23yr old so called thug but this vid broke me on the inside.”

The video is long, but I urge you to watch the whole thing from start to finish to see how the collective catharsis builds as she invites the congregation to share her pain. It’s absolutely riveting.

But even more so is how the daughter of the dead woman turns her grief into art. Absolutely beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen raw grief turned into a show with such honesty and purity of intention.

And her gestures at the end will “break” you, I’m pretty sure of it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvgdUNDo9hA

El coñazo de la libertad

2012-01-18T17:43:26Z

Escribí algo nuevo sobre la libertad de expresión y el costumbre del debate. Lo encontrarás aquí.