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Vance’sMondayAcousticPajamaParty #134 - FREE-STYLIN’ FOLK


When: Monday nite 11/21, 7:30ET (doors open @7 for community hang)


Who gets 10%: Greater Boston Food Bank. Thanksgiving's coming. I have plenty to eat. Many don’t. or or
a check to VanceFunder P.O. Box 17,
Arlington, MA 02476 for this web-groovery.
Pay or not, up to you. Let’s stay connected.

This week's pyjamas - ok

NEW ALBUM. Donate any amount = name on the cover. Sure there’s still time. Same links above, note “VanceFunder”. Any amount over $1 works, but $1000 -plus- makes you an exec producer, name in heavy black font.



I’m probably still just Class Clown (Kennedy HS, Class of ’75) ass when it comes right down to it. But nothing is funny nowadays. Comedy is gone. I’ve been called out more than once for the wrong material in the wrong audience. More so recently, ashamed that my previously infallible antennae were down.
But this happened Monday.

I don this floral robe for the pre-pacemaker CT scan. I swear Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing is playing in the office adjacent. As I’m about to be rolled into the big circular blue Star Trek transporter, one tech is running in the contrast dye, and I’ve been warned of its peculiar sensation.

“I’m warm down there. Did I pee?”

“Well, It wasn’t me”, she says

The other tech glues electrodes to the upper left quadrant of my chest where the pacemaker resides. I say to her “OK, so Sexual Healing is playing, you’re like giving me FrankenBoob, the overhead fake forest scene to calm me is dumb, and the other lady...”

“...we can all go to HR when we’re done”, the red-haired one says

“When I get this feeling, I need electrode adhesion...” I sing in reply.

All three of us are crying laughing.

Then off for blood tests. The older, possibly Haitian woman checking me in is so good natured at my being good natured as I have to wait an hour because of the dye. In my best faux Other Island accent I go off:

“They are such RACEEST here! They tale me that I have to whet because I have the dye. I know what that meens! They are making me whet just because my blood ees BLUE and because I am a Cephalopod!!! That’s right, laydeee, they are so veeery anti-tentacle in theese phlebotomy place!! I have never been to a place that was so very ANTI-CEPHALOPOD AS THEESE!! I should pop someone in the sucker with my sucker!! I am so mad, I am starting to dry out...”

This lady was gasping. Then I told he that she had the greatest laugh ever. She thanked me with tears in her eyes, and not sad ones.

God Bless Carlin, Bruce, Pryor. Redd Foxx. Joan Rivers. Kate Clinton too.

I won't stop because I have some free speech flag to wave.
I won't stop because I’m an ass that loves laughter, particularly at odd circumstances.
I won’t stop because I’m more than ever sure that any potential for alliance dies the same death as the dark-humored, head-shaking laughter we laugh at our trauma.
I’m not alone.
Nope. I won’t stop. I’ll take my chances.