I grew up in Fredericksburg, and that’s where my comedy career began. During my first year doing stand up, I was booed, heckled, and ridiculed by many of the audiences there. They hated me. At one bar I was even heckled by the guy who owned the bar. That wasn’t even the worst of it. Often somebody would heckle me, and then once I came offstage they would tell me that they were “just trying to help,” and then give me tips on how I could get better. Because everyone knows your comedic sensibilities aren’t truly refined until after your fifth Jack and Coke.
Before I preview the show tonight, I’d just like to say that I have no hard feelings towards the city. Honestly, my family and many of my friends still live there, and I always love going back. Sometimes it gets stereotyped as a redneck town overrun with commercialization, but I don’t believe that for a second. I just want to make that clear to everyone.
As for tonight’s show, I will be doing my act, but man is there a great lineup before me. The MC for the show is Dwight Preston, a bartender at Hard Times who just got out of jail for possession. He’s got a tattoo of a Confederate flag, and a swastika that was converted into a pinwheel after he accepted Christ as his Savior.
Next up is a three women act that call themselves, “Three Drunk Bitches Who Sing Don’t Stop Believing Right Before Last Call.” They were discovered when one night, right before last call, they drunkenly stammered out a horrible version of Journey’s hit song Don’t Stop Believing in a last ditch attempt for some male attention. The girls even throw in some great dance moves, like my personal favorite, the one where they awkwardly grind on each other until they realize no one’s paying attention. It’s true that the girls aren’t that cute, but they are what’s known as Fredericksburg hot; in other words, they have all their teeth, no kids, and they have their associate’s from Germanna Community College.
Fredericksburg is known for its Civil War battlefields, so the next act has a little bit of historical flavor. Two reenactors, dressed as Abe Lincoln and Robert E. Lee, are going to stage a swordfight. I’ve seen this before and (spoiler alert!) Lee wins with a fake decapitation (/end spoiler). It’s not really a reenactment, since no swordfight came remotely close to happening between these two men. I’m pretty sure that if it did, Lee wouldn’t end the fight by telling all the Northerners in the crowd to “suck it,” pointing to his crotch while Freebird played over the loudspeaker. Also, I’m no history expert, but I’m positive General Lee never dressed like Macho Man Randy Savage.
To break up the show, the Loft scheduled a contest: it’s called Which Clearly Pregnant Woman Can Smoke the Most Cigarettes While Their Husbands Hit on Underage Girls at Another Bar?
After that, I’m going to go up and do 15 minutes, most likely to blank stares. Even so, I’m pumped for the show. Everyone sleeps on this city; they call it a no-good ass-backwards hick town with no culture to speak of. I disagree, and tonight, we’re going to prove that Fredericksburg is culturally refined. I can’t wait to prove the doubters wrong.
Oh, almost forgot to mention: for the final act of the night, a bunch of shirtless hicks will congregate on stage to form a jug band while two greased up barnyard pigs wrestle. Also, an old guy with a long white beard will play the fiddle.