You might think you know crazy comedy, but chances are, you ain’t got squat. If your idea of onstage wackiness conforms to the surrealistic antics of Andy Kauffman or the melon-smashing mania of Gallagher, clearly, you have a taste for the tame. Because, my friends, these forebears of comedic crazy don’t got nothing on one Jim Jeffries.
This past year, we met Jim on his first HBO stand-up special, I Swear to God. We also got to make his acquaintance through the pages of Punchline Magazine. But on Friday, Sept. 18, at the Crofoot in Pontiac, MI, I got to make the most intimate acquaintance of all with Jim live in concert. Hint: this riddle involves a part of the Aussie comedian’s anatomy that rhymes with “walls.”
Now, now, this is no random act of flashing. It was one fueled by copious amounts of alcohol – taken in Yager-bomb form, to be precise – and more than a little love for audience adoration. Admittedly, it was exceedingly entertaining to watch the already-hilarious Jeffries conclude his hour-long show by dragging a reluctant member of the crowd onto the stage, supplying her with shot after shot of unadulterated liquor, and then attempted to entice her into performing a strip-tease. (She refused).
This, of course, brings us to the part of the story that includes Jim Jeffries’ pink Australian scrotum. After his unwitting co-conspirator politely but firmly turned down offers of nudity, Jeffries himself took on the foreboding task, and proceeded to treat audience members to a brief taste of his oft-discussed nether-regions.
It was, needless to say, a night worth memorializing. Especially in Punchline Magazine blog-format.