Thursday, August 7
Steve-O, from Jackass is now a stand-up comedian. He’s “nearly 40″ (you can tell how hard he’s worked to learn a routine, and how vacuous his life is – he’s actually been 40 for two months now) and newly sober, clean and free of the sex addiction that crippled his life and has given him the basis of his “stand-up comedy” routine, whereby he talks about all the chicks he got to bang and how anal sex is “so gay”, despite becoming a nearly household name for shoving things up his own arse – it’s super funny because he spots that as an irony, then drives over it in one of several comedy hit-and-runs. Steve-O is revoltingly misogynistic and homophobic – but he smiles a grotty smile at the end of each weak punchline and he used to be on TV. Getting stoned-over chuckles never seemed so easy. You just have to – sadly, very sadly – be yourself. That seems to be Steve-O’s, er, greatest trick…
Where once his balls would ache because he’d staple-gunned them to his own thigh, now they throb with the fact that this serial premature-ejaculator with a crooked dick from beating off too hard too often (hey, I’m just repeating from his script) hasn’t released the goods in nearly a year. He’s hands-free these days, even though he loved masturbating. Presumably he gets as close as he can be to masturbating these days simply by being on stage.
If you thought about it hard enough – and I really did try – you might almost want to see this as the rocky road to post-recovery spun into a yarn depicting one long, dark night of the soul. But he would need to have one.
And he does not. But what he does have are “jokes” about still sticking it to ugly chicks, about how the “webcam whore” that he invited into his room via Twitter – sight unseen – warned him about her scarred tits from a botched boob-job and about how he decided to go there anyway because looking at those slashed-up titties would hopefully allow him last longer. You wish I was joking? I wish he had been too.
After an interminable hour of non-humour – I could only compare it to Tom Green’s show last year (in terms of fading hero desperate to retain income, laughing at the non-humour in his own failings) though Green seemed genuinely affable – Steve-O did some of his old circus tricks. He drank a glass of water without using his hands. He demonstrated a gymnastic flexibility and strength.
It had nothing to do with comedy. So in that sense it was consistent with the rest of his show.
And then he asked if anyone wanted to be kicked in the nuts. A guy – named Logan – sprung from the front row before O could finish his sentence. He would now live his dream. He steadied himself, beanie pulled down over his face for “extra” comedy, as Steve-O juggled a Hacky Sack across the stage culminating in a swift leg lift to Logan’s groin and one of Darwin’s benchwarmers crumpled in a heap as the audience erupted in cheers. They didn’t get a good take on the cameras that, we were told in advance would be making this a viral hit so we waited while he did it again. And again. And again. I wish I was joking. I wish Steve-O had been too – somewhere within his set.
There was a lengthy plug for Steve-O’s official website and for all the merchandise you could buy – who wouldn’t want a New York Times bestseller by a guy that keeps serving up self-flagellation as party-trick? Especially when you could have it signed after waiting in a long queue by the guy who let someone else write it for him under his own name.
Earlier in the set – back when he was apparently attempting comedy – there were a few stories about failed Jackass pranks. And even more about being an aimless, drunk jerk with a penchant for the quick shag. We thrilled to hear of threesomes and orgies, we marvelled at the times when he called women whores and boasted of taking home strippers. We guffawed at the conclusion – a stripper all sweaty down there farting in his face as he was going down on her. Oh man, how we laughed.
I say we and I mean them naturally. Everyone else.
But that image, face down and farts wafting, does provide suitable metaphor for Steve-O’s idea of comedy. And for how this constantly fell flat. And stank.
Women shrieked with laughter. Men high-fived and howled like monkeys. There would be some premature ejaculating tonight!
One typically witless exchange had Steve-O asking front-rowers if they enjoyed anal. And oddly they had nothing to say despite staring up at the biggest arsehole they’d ever see.