We told our kids that we were taking them to the ballet in an effort to expand their cultural horizons.
Nothing could have been further from the truth.
No, our destination Saturday night was the Assembly Hall to see the comic stylings of Larry the Cable Guy. Had I informed them of this months ago when I got the tickets, I would have been bugged, pestered, and gone deaf with the constant asking: “How many days until Larry the Cable Guy?” It was better this way, as I was able to maintain my sanity as well as torture our three boys with the vision of having to get dressed up in their suits to witness pirouettes and tutus for an evening. Please, don’t call the DCFS on me. That sort of mental torture toughens up kids these days.
In a sense, this was payback on my part, as I suspected that sitting through Larry’s set would be a special torture all its own. The kids are big fans, as is my wife, having seen him in his B-grade comedies, witnessed him doing stand-up on Comedy Central and heard his Christmas CDs. While they would be doubled up, I’d chuckle now and again at one of his simplistic crude jokes and I suspected he would be far funnier if I’d drink a beer or six while watching him.
Needless to say, that crutch was not available at the Assembly Hall on Saturday night, nor was it needed as Larry killed — yes, killed. The audience was in the palm of his hand from the start with his first joke: “If you need to go to Wal-Mart, now’s the time. They love it when I come to town, because it gives them a chance to restock the shelves.” From that point to the final gag, Daniel Lawrence Whitney mercilessly peppered the audience with one joke after another with the efficiency of a stealth bomber. Slowly sauntering back and forth across the bare stage in his sleeveless work shirt, blue jeans, work boots, and baseball hat, Larry regaled the audience with jokes about those mentally and physically challenged, bragged about the size of his bowel movements, ripped into the health food movement, and mentioned panties too many times to mention.
Obviously, this was not for the faint of heart nor the easily offended.
However, as the evening wore on it became apparent that Whitney is far smarter than his onstage persona, and that his act is a well-calculated piece of performance art in which his conservative views slowly begin to emerge amidst the down-home humor that is his bread and butter. Ripping into Al Gore, global warming (a crackpot theory according to Lar), the Octo Mom, the media, and the country’s economic woes, Larry pushed the audience’s buttons with ease, getting the largest reactions from the crowd with these right-wing diatribes.
Obviously, his entire act was born as a reaction to the Political Correctness Movement, as so many of his bits call to task those who would have us vocally neutered lest we give the least offense to anyone. I applaud his efforts to call us out; however, his brief sojourns into political humor were the most uncomfortable and wrongheaded moments of the evening. While I think his persona is carefully constructed, the sincerity with which these bits were delivered was far too earnest to be ignored.
Whitney is an equal opportunity offender and admits to it on stage at the end of the act, when he says that his jokes should be taken in good fun. His self-effacing approach to himself, and his sincere thanks to the audience for continuing to support him and provide him with a lifestyle that gives him the option of never stepping into a Wal-Mart for the rest of his days, seems genuine and heartfelt. It’s hard not to like the guy, and it’s even harder when he says, “There are times when I get madder than a midget with a yo-yo.” As Larry would say, “I don’t care who you are, that’s funny.”