Monday, October 29, 2012

Derek Sheen's "Holy Drivel"



On the new album “Holy Drivel,” comedian Derek Sheen starts things off at a nice steady pace. He begins with a fun bit on the differences between Seattle and Portland to kind of ease us into the proceedings. Nothing too crazy. Ribbing Portland for their hippy-dippy all-vegan strip clubs and explaining why daylight ruins the strip club experience (including the names of strippers who don’t qualify to appear during peak nighttime hours, like “Bruisy,” “Clumpy,” and “Knuckles”), Sheen plays it cool while the audience gets comfortable.

And then, without warning, Sheen slams the pedal to the metal and we’re off like a shot. As he lays in on The South and their collection of the greatest fat people ever, the laughs suddenly go into overdrive and there’s no turning back. 

I’ve heard comics take on The South before but no one has taken them (and their biscuit-based economy) to the cleaners quite like Sheen. One moment he’s rattling off what sounds like a pretty tasty and totally legitimate recipe for perfect buttermilk biscuits and the next he’s listing the secret process for the accompanying gravy that I believe is just as equally accurate.

With Sheen, you never quite know what’s around the corner and that’s a good thing. He has a passion that is reminiscent of Lewis Black and his references, stretching from Frank Herbert’s “Dune” to Coachella all in one Paula Deen joke, will keep you on your toes.

Sheen’s observations and insights are right on the money: Gay men have great yard sales, lesbians do not (what do you do with a huge box of wolf t-shirts and dreamcatchers?). Chattanooga is the Detroit of The South. And yes, there is a way to correct things if you’re raising a crappy kid (grab your pillow). Sure, these aren’t all things you can say around the water cooler at your job tomorrow without catching a weird look or two, but that doesn’t take away from their truthyness (thank you, Stephen Colbert, for that word).

Like many of my favorite comedians, Sheen is more of a storyteller than a crafter of yuk-yuk one-liners. Particularly memorable is his tale of the small town Tennessee bar that comes to life on Fridays due to a mysterious and frightening phenomenon and you won't soon forget the nickname he came up with for his best friend’s new baby that even surprised Sheen with it’s complete inappropriateness. 

Not to be forgotten is the final track that begins with a simple desire to get away from the pressures of everyday life and ends with the idea of leaving Disneyland covered in child blood and enduring the parenting styles of lame fathers who don’t incur the wrath of the Portuguese Tack Hammer but instead opt for repeating their child’s name over and over again for five minutes. If your name happens to be “Micah,” prepare yourself, because from now on you will have a new way of being addressed by your friends.

I found myself enjoying this album so much, when it was over I couldn’t believe 45 minutes had passed. At first I was angry and thought, “What a rip-off! A 20-minute CD? I want more!” Then, after realizing how much time had actually passed, it made me happy. Forty-five minutes flew by and that’s always a good sign. And, even though I thought I might, I didn’t walk away with “It’s A Small World” stuck in my head. That’s always good, too.



Friday, October 26, 2012

Dan Cummins's "Hear This!"



I’m glad there are people out there like Dan Cummins if for no other reason than I am comforted by the fact that I’m not the only one who secretly harbors socially unacceptable thoughts about hipsters, how gays are like the TV show “True Blood,” and kicking babies. Cummins, of course, is able to put into words the same things I am thinking much better than I would be able to and without a doubt, much funnier. Much, much funnier. More likely than not if I were to try to express these same sentiments, they would be taken the wrong way. Cummins will, from now on, be my translator and the next time I’m trying to make a point, I’ll just play a track from his new album “Hear This!” and say, “THAT’s what I mean.” No longer will my infant-punting dreams be the reason for my social ineptitude.

It all begins when Cummins relays the tale of the hunchbacked, shifty-eyed hotel front desk clerk with a pencil-thin mustache and beard who tried to steal his credit card information. As the botched heist is described, Cummins takes a sinister glee in describing the perp’s less-than-cover model looks, right down to his pinkies-for-thumbs hands. As if that weren’t funny enough on its own, Cummins then begins to hypothesize how the creepy guy lost his original digits in the first place and it’s a good peek into the huge laughs that are waiting for you on the rest of the album.

Cummins’s honesty and transparency are both aspects of his comedy that I really enjoy. As politically incorrect as it may be to admit, he judges (and hates) people based on the way they look (especially if they’re smoking a pipe), he thinks America is the best country but doesn’t think it’s “great” (yes, it is possible to not be great and still be the best), and although he loves his kids equally, he does like one of them more than the other (and reveals which one that is). Cummins freely admits these - and other - thoughts run rampant inside his head and we can all relate. If you claim you’ve never wished death on someone completely innocent for the slightest infraction, then think back to last week when you were running late and there was someone in front of you in the fast lane driving the speed limit. See? You’re one of us now. Sit down and relax.

More a storyteller than a joke-teller (and I think I prefer it that way), Cummins comes armed with some fantastic tales from real-life experiences. They don’t always paint him in the best light as witnessed by the time he more than likely got a school employee fired for not wanting to get hit with spoons, but that’s not why we’re here. Cummins isn’t trying to make himself look like a model citizen, he’s here to make us laugh, and doggonit, he does it well. Yes, the scenario that plays out in his head when the guy at the smoothie shop won’t. Do. His. Job. Is probably a little over the top, but it’s also pretty darn hilarious, too.

When it comes to his kids, Cummins has an unending source of comedy. He admits that before having kids he didn’t like them and after having kids he hates them (except for his two. He loves his. Hates all others) and his two children couldn’t be further apart on the personality spectrum. His son is the goofy carefree one who wants to grow up to be a dwarf so he can still crawl through logs. His daughter is The Dark One, so cunning and sinister she makes Stewie Griffin look like the E*Trade baby. It’s like she knows what he’s saying about her on stage in front of strangers and is making him pay for it at home. For real.

I can’t finish this review without giving props to the creative team who designed the cover art for the CD. Although a seemingly simple premise at first glance (Cummins at a smoothie shop), it is filled with funny details that serve as callbacks to big laughs on the album. Read the descriptions of the smoothies on the chalk board. Pay special attention to how the kids are dressed. Even the price of the smoothies ($6) points to a great bit on toll bridges that demand cash only. 

A lot of care and time when into making this album, in every aspect, and it shows. It’s a great project from a very funny comedian and I can’t recommend it enough. Hear this. Hear this now.



Monday, October 22, 2012

Cowboy and Indian's "In Case of Emergency"



If there’s one thing that's more difficult than recording a stand up comedy album, it just might be recording a sketch comedy album. I don’t know that for a fact but am just hypothesizing based on the fact that, with stand up, you instantly know how well a joke goes over. The audience is usually more than willing to let you know what they thought of a joke by laughing, groaning, or staring blankly back at you without making a sound. With sketch, unless you happen to live in a large city such as New York with clubs that cater to those comedians and performers, you might not have an outlet with which to test your craft and, as a result, not have any idea how it’s going to play. In that regard, I would imagine it’s a bit like skydiving at night and I must say I respect those who give it a go.

For me, sketch comedy is tricky because I’ve never heard a sketch comedy album where I’ve liked every track. Even my favorite sketch albums like Monty Python or Adam Sandler have a few tracks that I usually skip. For every track that makes me laugh out loud, there’s often one that just leaves me a bit confused and uninterested. I think that’s a good thing, though. In general, sketch writers and performers tend to take a lot of chances and risks and aren’t afraid to try something out regardless of how off the wall and bizarre it might feel. For every SNL sketch that caught fire and exploded over the pop culture scene, there were countless others that aired in the last half hour, never to be included in a “Best Of” collection that were placed in the last half hour for a reason. But at least they tried it out.

The reason for such a long intro to my review of Cowboy & Indian’s “In Case of Emergency” is to assure you that, just because I didn’t love every single track included here, that doesn’t mean it’s not good and I didn’t enjoy myself. On the contrary, this is a solid entry into the Sketch Comedy genre and very probably the best one I’ve heard since Sandler’s last entry. It’s nice to see (or hear, rather) that there are good sketch writers out there doing their thing and, even more impressive, writing material that translates well to a non-visual format.

The writing on the album is solid and covers a nice variety of subjects. Even better, for the most part, they are approached from a different angle than you have probably heard before. Sure, you may have seen a couple of terrorists devising a plan in other sketch programs before, but you’d be hard pressed to find a series of scenes written this smartly and with such originality. Because their take on it was so fresh, it genuinely felt as if this was the first time I’d experienced the premise. 

There’s a fun running gag that features a friendly yet sexually disturbing mythological creature and when their mad scientist decides to create a new spin on laboratory creations, the results are just what he should have expected...but didn’t. My favorite track comes early on and confirms the fears of parents everywhere who listen to their kids singing along to Katy Perry and Ke$ha songs they hear on the radio.

As it often goes with sketch collections, for every track that featured Game Night with a mood-killing dark knight or a fun take on Doctor Who that, quite honestly, I’m surprised I never thought about before, there are tracks that made me scratch my head and will probably be skipped over in the future (like SNL, these are positioned near the end of the project and feature a salad that confounds Japanese businessmen and a series of voicemails that were a bit predictable). The members of Cowboy & Indian do a fine job as long as they aren’t trying to do European accents. There are a couple of sketches (the aforementioned Doctor Who sketch and a BBC play-by-play porno commentary) where the actors struggle to keep from drifting from a British accent to Australian to Scottish. A conversation between Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels shifts from a conversation between Germans to Russians and....yes...at times, what seems to be French. The inconsistency of the accents was a bit distracting and, had they gone for no accent at all, I would have given them a pass and been able to focus more on the humor.

All in all, though, this is a fun project and one that deserves a place in your iTunes playlist (especially if you’re a fan of sketch comedy). The production value is impressive (although they should probably invest in a new “slap” sound effect) and there are some really clever laughs waiting to be discovered. If Cowboy & Indian is the future of sketch comedy, then the future of sketch comedy is in good hands.




Friday, October 19, 2012

Tig Notaro's "Live"



How do you even begin to try to capture and encapsulate something as beautiful as Tig Notaro’s “Live?” I’ve already accepted the fact that I won’t be able to do it justice and, judging by what I’ve already read about it, I won’t even come close to doing it as well as others (especially Louis C.K.). And yet, I still feel compelled to say something.

By now I’m sure you’ve heard about this amazing set. First it started off as an internet rumbling, random posts popping up here and there that basically said, “Tig Notaro had an amazing set last night.” “Tig Notaro went on stage and announced she has breast cancer, it was amazing.” “I just saw a comedy set like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

It wasn’t long before it was picked up by the media and soon, thankfully, C.K. helped make it available to those of us who weren’t there. I’m glad he did. I’m still reeling.

What do you do when you’re booked to go on stage and tell jokes about bees taking the 405 Freeway and you’ve just been diagnosed with cancer? Do you cancel? Do you just press on? Surely you don’t mention what’s really going on inside your head. If anything can take the life - and laughter - out of a room, surely cancer can.

And yet...

Never before have three words said so much. Notaro opens with a simple “I have cancer” and immediately the crowd knows they’re in for something like they’ve never experienced before. A wave of cautious and uncomfortable laughter sweeps through the room as they try to figure out whether or not Notaro is being serious. As she repeats those words a few more times, you can’t help but notice the life-shattering tone in her voice of someone who is still processing the news.

"I have cancer."

As she relays her story from the discovery of a lump all the way through the process of the mammogram, contracting pneumonia, and then C. Diff before finally being officially diagnosed, everything becomes real and stark. And still, all the while as sympathetic “Ohs” and “Aws” float from the crowd onto the stage, Notaro becomes the one doing the consoling ("I can't believe you're taking this so hard...")

If breast cancer isn’t enough, throw on top of that, in just a few weeks’ time, going through a breakup and the sudden tragic passing of your mother. Now try to go on stage and tell jokes about a bee taking the 405.

You can’t. Or at least, Notaro can’t. With so much going on in her life, there’s no possible way to tell a joke about a bee on the 405. Instead of silliness, Notaro goes for honesty, and I think that’s what touched me the most. I’ve had good friends and family members go through cancer but none of them have been as open and honest about what they’re dealing with than Notaro is in front of a room full of strangers. As she goes through each stage of grief in a public forum, it’s simultaneously heartbreaking and hilarious. Notaro, after all, is a very funny comedian and she finds a way to wring laughter from the somber burden she is bearing.

Hearing Notaro relay the anguish she feels (Why even bother going to the store to buy food?) and understandably questioning the whole “God never gives you more than you can handle” adage that offers little comfort to those actually being loaded up, one can’t help but want nothing more than to reach through your speakers and give Notaro a hug. She sounds like a small child standing at the mouth of a dark cave, knowing she has to go through it, and doggonit, deciding that’s just what she’s going to do.

Fortunately, she’s not going through it alone. Notaro has a strong supportive community rallying around her and the crowd who was there that evening is vehemently on her side, reassuring her the whole way that she is doing the right thing by forgoing that bee who took the 405. 

And still, I laughed. Yes, Notaro is going through a really dark time and she’s trying, she’s really trying, to process it all, but she remains hopeful. Her sense of humor is still in tact as is her appreciation of what is good. She holds on to the fact that her career is going well and despite the horrible things surrounding her, there are also things in her life that are looking up and she hasn’t forgotten them.

Finally, when it’s all out there and you’ve talked about it openly and honestly, what Notaro has really done is taken away some of tragedy’s power. If you can laugh at it, maybe it’s not as scary. If you can laugh at it, then you can overcome it. And, if you can laugh at it, then maybe there’s room for a joke about a bee on the 405.

This recording wildly succeeds in capturing what happened that fateful night at Largo. There is a sincere air of intimacy and it doesn’t take long for you to feel like you were there in person, too. The pain you hear - and feel - is real. But so are the laughs.


Monday, October 15, 2012

Ryan Singer's "Comedy Wonder Town"



Comedy Wonder Town,” the new album from the very talented Ryan Singer, is appropriately named. Full of witty humor partnered with a genuine awe for the achievements around us (like spaceships, heart surgery, and scissors), this album takes us to a fun place where we are invited to keep an open heart, an open mind, and you’re encouraged to break out into a song at any time (“Man-bit debris surrounds yooooooou”). In other words, it’s a nice place to be.

Singer, raised in an Irish-Catholic gambling family, is a guy who knows how to have fun. He goes through life with a sincere appreciation of the wonders that surround him, never taking for granted what others have achieved and created. He freely admits he would never be able to figure them out on his own (“The older I get, the more I know zero”). He has a fresh outlook on how to overcome jealousy and insecurity and is right on the button when he explains how we have confused luxury with necessity. Of course, it’s all done while garnering some super-sized laughs.

Relaxed and laid back at times, it’s fun to watch Singer switch gears as he twists himself out of shape. It put me in mind of being a kid at the playground and spinning a friend on the swings. The chains would creak as they were wound up tighter and tighter, and then when I couldn’t push them any further, I would step back and let go, watching and laughing as they spun in a circle. Similarly, it’s fun to watch Singer as he explodes, converting the potential energy to kinetic in an outburst of scientifically accurate Neanderthal song lyrics.

As a child, Singer thought he would have all of life’s answers and be a mature citizen by the time he was in his 30s, but that hasn’t happened. He still hasn’t figured out how to work his body, he doesn’t trust people who refuse to swear (he needs to have a reliable warning for the impending dragon apocalypse), and is still slightly obsessed with his ex-girlfriend (I say slightly because, let’s be honest, haven’t we all written letters to our ex from the point of view of our fictional daughter who is, in reality, a watermelon?).

When it comes to women and relationships, the cards are stacked against Singer. He’s physically attracted to the type of girls he hates and he was creeped out by the 15-year-old girl at a flea market who sexually harassed him. On the bright side, though, it creeped him out. He’s not surprised that teenagers are getting pregnant, but he is surprised that the teens are surprised. To top everything off, the only thing that might be worse than scouting for the person who can silence the alarm on his biological clock that ticks louder and louder each day is trying to help his divorced parents do the same.

My favorite track comes near the end of the album, when Singer reveals his CB Radio hobby. He’s taken it upon himself to entertain the world of truckers by telling them jokes about his wife who doesn’t exist. Frustrated by the fact that the response has been...nonexistent, Singer has created a cast of characters to respond to his broadcasts to make it sound like people are paying attention. He smoothly slips from one hilariously animated persona to the next, most memorable for me being the guy who doesn’t quite know how to sign off. It’s an impressive bit and even if the truckers aren’t laughing, I sure was.

Comedy Wonder Town is a pleasant place where you’ll want to stick around for a while. Sure, there are questionable items left behind in the apartments by the previous tenants  and the Olympic-sized swimming pools are not to be trusted, but the women there are fully covered and the Saturday evenings are ripe with opportunities to prove your mother didn’t raise a pig and your father didn’t raise a quitter. Comedy Wonder Town. Welcome home.



Friday, October 12, 2012

Beth Stelling's "Sweet Beth"



Sweet Beth” is the debut album from Beth Stelling and it’s a perfect storm of stand-up comedy. Everything you hope to find in a comedian is present and accounted for: Spot-on timing, one hilarious story after the next, an odd relationship with one’s dad, and your mom’s dog humping the guy you bring home to meet the family.

On top of all that, Stelling has a delivery and style that is originally retro in nature. It sort of put me in mind of the less-than-impressed telephone operator characters so common in movies and on TV in the 50s, 60s, and 70s, most notably the lady behind the switchboard played by Lily Tomlin. But then again, not really. Although Stelling’s vocal inflection, cleverly emphasizing a crazy situation by remaining monotone, is at times reminiscent of the archetype, she doesn’t come across as cold or apathetic. While a character like Ernestine is funny on TV but not someone you’d want to encounter in real life, Stelling is the opposite. She establishes a connection with the audience that makes one wish there was more standup when her set is over. If the sign of a good performance is to always keep the crowd wanting more, then this is a good performance indeed.

 The topics on the album span just about every topic conceivable. Trannies at TJ Maxx? Check. The CVS Extra Care card? Check. A voicemail from mom about a wall of poop found in the basement? Check. An unrequited love that leads to a dead goldfish which in turn leads to a conversation with a parent on how maybe not to be a serial killer? Yep, that’s here, too.

In fact, I”m pretty sure Stelling could take any experience and use it for comedy gold (even the time her comedy gold was literally stolen from her). No matter how traumatizing or embarrassing, it’s all fair game as long as we get a good laugh out of it. And we do. From her dad’s off-the-wall character business (and yes, “Chef Big Butt” really is one of the options you can hire to show up at your event. I checked the website) to the world’s worst bedtime kiss, Stelling shows no shame in baring it all. Even the time she lost her virginity to Der Stuka at the Wet ‘n Wild water park gets its time in the limelight.

Not only does Stelling’s comedy thrive in the midst of awkward situations, it blossoms there. Rather than let it scar her for life, she takes life by the horns and scars it. Getting a tattoo of her boyfriend’s name will never be a choice that is regretted and sometimes you have to be the one to go through the full-body scanner at the airport first to ease the minds of others. Stelling sums it up best when she says, “If you want something...go ahead and poop in it.” Sure, she was referring to the Cabbage Patch Crib her sister never let her play with, but I still think it applies in a broader scope.

This album is a lot of fun and there are a good number of big laughs waiting to be discovered. There’s an extra track at the end where some friends are invited on stage to perform that sort of steals Stelling’s thunder from her and, after the amazing set she just had, is a bit anticlimactic. At the same time, though, it shows how good Stelling is, especially when it’s just her and a microphone. I agree with Stelling’s mother that, if stand up comedy was an Olympic sport, Stelling would get a gold medal. Unlike her mom, I’m not going to separate genders. Gold medal, across the board.



Monday, October 8, 2012

Erik Allen's "Your Feature Performer Is Wasted"




About a year and a half ago, I reviewed the debut album from comedian Erik Allen. Although I had a couple of critiques, for the most part I was impressed and looked forward to his next, longer album (the running time of that CD was just shy of 15 minutes). I sincerely believed he was on his way to something big and with the release of his follow-up project, Your Feature Performer Is Wasted, I got to see if my prediction held true. 

Although still shorter than most comedy CDs, this project is twice as long as his previous release and you can tell he’s been putting in his time. Allen has made some great strides in his craft and the result is a project that is a lot of fun and, most importantly, pretty darn funny.

Allen has developed into quite a storyteller and, just as the title hints, most of his stories are the direct result of his love of the drink. From partying into the wee hours of the night in Louisville that morphs into a Goldilocks tale gone wrong to tiring of waking up with Sharpie doodles on his face (when will his friends come up with something new to draw?), Allen recounts each tale with an approachable everyguy-ness. 

Most enjoyable is the revelation of a second personality: Drunk Erik. Drunk Erik and Sober Erik, although sharing the same body, are two very different people and although it seems Drunk Erik is for the most part a good guy (he makes breakfast for Sober Erik, tries to earn Sober Erik extra cash, and is able to turn a pool of vomit into something adorably nice), he does have his faults. No fair hiding the English muffins!

Of course, Allen isn’t the only one who’s spent time with an over-the-legal-limit blood alcohol level and the adventures his friends have had whilst under the influence are just as entertaining. He brilliantly compares Waldo from the children’s book series to an inebriated friend and the tale of his pal who locked herself in her car - and the subsequent attempt to free her - is a classic.

Yes, Allen is correct when he explains how technology has ruined the joy of blacking out and his misidentification of a Ninja at a hospital on Halloween hits the crowd hard, but not all of the big laughs here are booze-related (or induced). There’s a great bit on fridge dust and how eating a ball of it is a healthy option and one of my favorites is Allen’s encounter with a girl who has a fantastically stupid allergy.

I had a great time listening to this project and, once again, am eagerly anticipating what Allen will bring us the next time around. Yes, your feature performer may be wasted, but he made me laugh, and I’ve got nothing to critique about that.



Monday, October 1, 2012

Demetri Martin's "Standup Comedian"




What else can I say about “Standup Comedian,” the new album from Demetri Martin except, “What did you think I was gonna say?” I’m a Demetri Martin fan and have been for some time and he never disappoints. He continuously manages to keep me laughing while simultaneously wondering just where in the world he comes up with this stuff. This time around is no different. If you like Demetri, you’ll love this one. If you’re not familiar with Demetri, you’ll love this one. And if you don’t like Demetri, I have no time for you. 

One thing I’ve loved about Martin’s comedy is his quirky sense of unique indie goofball-ness. He’s still designing the J-card CD inserts and he still includes a foldout poster with the purchase of a physical CD. Although he’s come a long way and has gained quite a bit of notoriety, he has managed to maintain his skewed outlook on everyday items and, guitar still in hand at times, he still has the vibe of an underground comic who couldn’t possibly get away with such silly randomness if he were a mainstream comedian.

And yet, he does.

From the do-it-yourself introduction all the way through to the final track of Guitar Jokes,” this album is packed with an incredible amount of quotable one-liners that will soon begin to show up as your friends’ Facebook statuses (I’ve already done it once...and it won’t be the last time. “A calzone is a food that shows you what you’ll look like if you keep eating it")

Martin’s set begins with an explanation of what kind of rooms are the most conducive to comedy and then takes a fun turn as he addresses the two empty front-row chairs. It’s a shame Clint Eastwood couldn’t have heard this before he took a stab at it. If you’re going to try the old “empty chair” routine, you need to make sure it’s done well. Martin does it well, and although this was recorded before the notorious Eastwood/chair debacle, you still can’t hear it and not compare the two. Trust me, Martin’s take on it is much more entertaining. 

For someone who isn’t a storyteller per se, Martin is quite engaging. He keeps you on your tows by switching from one topic to another and you can’t help but wonder how he remembers what’s supposed to come next. He doesn’t appear to be following a singular common thread or train of thought, yet he continues to rattle off one hilarious observation after another.

Just as he always has in the past, Martin is especially skilled at scrutinizing life’s mundane everyday tasks and inflates them so we can see the comedy that lies within. The way we’ve upgraded our bathroom technology has ended up making us all look like bad magicians and if “OK” is truly short for “okey dokey,” I’m glad we’ve opted to go with the abbreviation. Coconut-scented hand soap is a good idea most of the time and committing a murder/suicide is not only a horrible thing to do, but also guarantees an awkward afterlife.

And seriously, what do cows and dalmatians think when they see each other?

These topics aren’t approached from a cocky or brash point of view but instead they come from someone who questions only because he sincerely wants an answer. What is the best way to compliment someone on their face without sounding like a jerk? Why do we continue to insist on making birdhouses, a structure for an animal that already builds its own home? Is anyone monitoring the sudden invasion of wizards in the online vacation-themed clerical world? And seriously, is it rude for a deaf person to talk with food in their hands?

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I didn’t even come close to touching on all the notes I scribbled down while listening, but that’s yet another sign of a good album: Not being able to keep up with all the good stuff.

There are two slightly different versions of this project. One of them is the audio version, which has more of a club feel and includes a wonderful interaction with a man in the audience who has two middle names. The DVD version includes more of Martin’s visual jokes, most notably his huge sketch pad of graphs, charts, and illustrations which is another of his bits that has helped set him apart from others.

Regardless of which version you go for (Go for both. Trust me. You don’t wanna miss anything), you’re sure to have a great time. It’s almost Halloween (one of Martin’s favorite holidays but not because of the free candy or fun costumes), so treat yourself to a goody that won’t rot your teeth. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it almost as much as when your ex becomes an XL.