Sometime in the middle of Craig Ferguson's live performance at the Chicago Theater on May 1, Craig comments on the lunacy and the immediacy of the Internet and the three things that everyone should ask themselves before they put anything on the Web.
"Does it need to be said? Does it need to be said by me? Does it need to be said now?" Ferguson said. "It took me three marriages to learn that."
But let me start earlier. Since late February I was under the impression that I scored fourth row tickets to see Ferguson perform. That idea took on a life of its own and slowly I was convinced that, fuck, I got some really sweet seats. Of course things never go as they supposed to. Call it Murphy's Law or being Polish or whatever.
The day of the show comes and I am dressed like beautiful tits. I walk into the theater as if I own the place with my sister at my side since the tickets were her graduation present. I'm walking down the aisle, straight to the front and settle down in E407.
"This is pimpin'," I say to my sister. "This is big time." We settle in and some rich twats sit next to me five minutes before the show starts and they are talking about how well they've done in getting these seats. And it was close to the stage. Very close.
Was.
Something is not right. It does say 407 and 405 but in EE.
"Does your ticket say E409?" I ask the twat. (As a side note, she looked like a rich old twat, hence the attribution. Hey some do).
Of course me being a gentleman and not in the mood to spoil anyone's show, I asked the usher where the seats were just as the lights went out and the opening comedian Randy Kagan went on. And he's starting his shtick, but I want to know if these are the right seats.
So now my sister and I are sitting on the main floor near the back.
And I finally realized the need for opening comedians.
So that once the lights go out, the main act doesn't get distracted by people's obsessive compulsions about if they are in the right place as the ushers are frantically trying do their jobs to find seats for other people. And nobody is listening to the comic. They are still in shock and appalled about how bad the ushers were.
"Can you see?" I say when we got to "our" seats, as naturally there was a big Baby Huey sitting in front of her. She said yes.
Oh yeah, what about the show?
Out of all of the late night talk show hosts out there, I think Craig Ferguson is the only one who actually makes it his own. I do. I think he brings something to the format that you just don't see on the other programs. Plus the man is charming, funny, and yes, dare I say it, kind of sexy. That is if I was a woman. Which I guess I am sometimes.
Dressed in white pants, a T-shirt and a leather jacket, Ferguson said that his purpose was to tell a dirty joke.
"No Craig, not a joke," he said.
Of course the whole setup of the show is that he never actually gets to the joke until the end since he gets side tracked by the many, many thoughts he has, before he gets to the joke.
And yes, he does curse.
"I like to curse, but I'm a friendly curser," Ferguson said. From what I heard, "Shut the fuck up" can be actually used to show surprise and endearment. I know! He said that if people expect him to behave like he does on the show, then they were in for a long night.
"A guy isn't going to come out here running with a flag and say "Ohh la la!" so I can say whatever the fuck I want."
Ferguson said that his 9-year-old son is a hound for the Federal Communications Commission and walks behind him with a nickle jar for every time he says the "F-Word." Ferguson has been married three times as I've said.
"Here's $10, I'm going to call your mother," he said.
But the show is actually filled with nonstop laughter. And he killed.
From his musings about how America tuned in to see Tiger Woods return to golf expecting him to lose it and fuck a golf hole, a lack of sex education in Scotland, meeting Dick Cheney and then getting audited, the first sex scandal he did jokes about on the show involving Kevin Costner, about getting old and his balls sagging, "It feels like I'm being followed by two little hamsters," to fat girls, how insane coincidences prove that there is a God, and his alcoholism and more.
"Here's the medical difference between an alcoholic and a drug addict. When I used to be at a bar and somebody offered me some coke I did it. But when somebody told me that they knew a guy who had coke and we had to go get it, I was like, "Why? The bar is open.""
Or how God exists because Fabio got hit in the face by a goose at Bush Gardens on a roller coaster.
As God: "Is that Fabio? Hey watch this."
Or how Larry King represents ultimate punk rock because he "doesn't give a FUCK!"
"Larry could be interviewing you and fart while not losing eye-contact," Ferguson said. "What? You don't like brisket?"
Or Andy Rooney and how even the journalsits on Sundays drop their heads when they say "Here's Andy Rooney."
And Rooney comes on and whatever crazy lunacy pops into his head at 91 years of age and that makes it on the show: "What about bananas? They are shaped like cocks. And I want to eat them but I don't want people thinking that I want to blow an Asian man."
Personally, I enjoyed the show, yes, even from E407. It showed a more personal side to Craig that you just don't get on television. You get into the mind of a man that millions of people stay up for every night.
Oh yeah, he finally told the joke he came to tell.
It involved a man buying a gift for his wife for their anniversary so he bought her shoes and a vibrator. "So if she doesn't like them, she can go fuck herself!"
Or something of that nature.
The show was complete with Craig lip synching "Oops, I did it Again," by Britney Spears, and dancing as a boy band with some regulars on the show, including "Leather Boy."
Seeing him live on stage, I can finally understand why the man is really the only reason to watch late night comedy. You can have the Leno's and the Letterman's, but I will watch Ferguson over any of them.
He's my kind of guy. Even if I had shitty seats.
