Here’s a video of Chris doing part of his act:

AS always, the show is the first Tuesday of each month at Union Hall in Brooklyn, 8PM.

Tickets are ten bucks, available here.

Visit the larger announcement for more information – hope you can make it.

He was kind enough to let me share this video of his set:

The guy’s good, huh? You can catch him on Twitter at @chethinks, and on Tumblr here.

Thanks to a lot of awesome help from Creaghead and Co., that’s about to change.

Starting February 7th, we’ll be cock-rocking the NPR crowd with the And I Am Not Lying live show at Union Hall on the first Tuesday of every month. Doors are at 8, show’s at 8:30 and tickets ain’t but ten tiny dollars for the finest comedy, storytelling, burlesque sideshow you’re going to get anywhere.

Be honest with yourself: stuff like this is part of the reason you moved here. It’s worth a headache at work on Wednesday.

You can buy tickets here if you’re into that already.

We pulled together this cool trailer about it, too. It may be NSFW, depending on your job:

I wanted to start this show for a very, very good reason. I’m doing this thing so that I don’t go completely numb, and I’m trying to bring as many people back to life as I can right along with us.

I spend a lot of time hunched over a glowing rectangle starting and mediating petty squabbles about nothing, breathing shallowly through my mouth and reading tweets about television. I’ve been doing it for years. When I’m not getting paid to do it I sit around my apartment in my underpants and do it for free, apparently.

Everyone does.

Sometimes I think we’re all using computers to row this numbing boat towards a black wall of depressing distraction. I want to do my part to get as many people into one room and feeling something great together for a little while. And maybe if we get together often enough and pool our collective energies into something funny and weird, we can live a little outside of our bottomless pockets filled with lotus petals.

The entire purpose of life is to get as excited as possible. I’m so, so excited to have a reason to hose the town down with excitement once a month. So it’s like a Mobius strip of recursive excitement for me.

Sometimes storytelling shows can get a little sweater-vesty, comedy shows can be too bitter and detached, and burlesque too much, all in a go. This way we can cross-pollinate the best of the best and no matter what, if you’re not into what you’re seeing you can see something else really soon.

I want this thing to be a rock show without instruments, to just cram an entire aircraft carrier’s worth of fun into the basement of Union Hall. So far, we’ve been doing pretty okay on that front, I think.

D.Billy and I collaborated on this cool poster (I think it’s cool, anyway) to announce the residency:

You’ll note that the show on February 7th features:

Comedy from Ophira Eisenberg
Burlesque by The World Famous *BOB*
Nerdcore Rap by Schaffer the Darklord

in addition to burlesque from Cyndi Freeman
and storytelling by Brad Lawrence, Cyndi Freeman and Jeff Simmermon (me.)
**UPDATE**
We have just added bullwhip and lasso artist Chris McDaniel to the show!

Brad and I will co-host as always, and tickets are ten bucks — again, you can get them here.

And like, every million years a giant hand yanks the ship away and rips the planet apart, shaking everyone off to drift into their deaths in the cold wilds of the outer atmosphere.

In case you were wondering, I was, in fact, late to my destination. And yes, I do find psychedelic drugs to be redundant. Enjoy the pics:

psychedelic stand‐up show … a visceral experience from the downtown comedy underground. Accomplished thinkers, authors, poets, and artists join Barris and his band to become one seamless, improvised comedy freak show.”

I caught the sold-out show at Union Hall last Saturday. What I could see of it was really, really awesome, when I could see around a pillar. Everything sounded great, though.

Reggie Watts dropped in at the last minute and did a hilarious set, improvising all kinds of hilarious music and completely surreal standup that made perfect sense and told right-on truths as long as you didn’t listen too closely. If you did, you’d realize he was riffing on the kind of played-out onstage cliches you hear from most hip-hop and rock ‘n roll stage banter.

Here’s a pretty sweet clip. In it, Reggie Watts covers Maroon 5′s “Moves Like Jagger,” freestyles and improvises, and raps like the lead singer of a Cookie Monster death metal band:

Reggie Watts – Touching Songs Improv – Heart Of Darkness – 1.7.12 from Karmalize Productions on Vimeo.

In this clip, Reggie, Greg Barris and the Forgiveness improve a long jam about slack friends, vampires, teen smoking and more:

Reggie Watts & The Forgiveness – Improv Jam – Heart Of Darkness – 1.7.12 from Karmalize Productions on Vimeo.

Both clips were shot and edited by Alex Gaylon of Karmalize Productions.

It’s an all-girls hotel that has gone through many owners. It was originally incorporated by a religious order called “The Righteous Order Of Frustrated Spinsters With Too Many Cats” and envisioned as a reformatory residence for girls gone bad.

See, the spinsters believed that if you took a girl away from her nefarious environment and surrounded her with cats, she would no longer crave illicit temptation as there would be so many warm friendly pussies to snuggle up with.

I will hosting this week’s show & the cast is:  Jenny C’est Quoi, Gal Friday, Calamity Chang, Go Go Harder and more!

Hotsy Totsy is is part of the Burlesque Blitz: A week of burlesque at the Horse Trade Theater Company in NYC. We will be performing at The Kraine Theater, 85 East 4th Ave (Between 2nd & 3rd Ave) NYC – Dec. 28th – 8pm – for tickets and info go to - http://horsetrade.info

And we have a new sponsor: Sailor Jerry Spiced Rum, who will be supplying awesome swag and drink specials!

Brother, did they ever deliver:

The saxplayer handed me a pretty sweet business card right afterwards, though none of the URLs on it are coming up right now. As near as I can tell, they’re called the Funky Nassau Band, and you can catch them in the subway underneath the Financial District, more or less. They’ve got a ton of stuff on YouTube, too. I especially love this slow jam in a Miami Vice suit.

Despite the fierceness of their culture, they were quite kind to him. According to Wikipedia, the people of Nagaland were known for their hospitality to strangers. My cousin did not know this at the time, but head trophies were taken only during battle and since he was not waging a war with them, he was safe. He was treated as a friend in need. In fact they liked him so much they tried to find him a wife.

You can hear my story at our live show AND I AM NOT LYING LIVE this Saturday. But in the meantime here are some images and links to video. Look now or come back and learn more after hearing me tell this truly amazing family story!

Want to buy this? This photo is from a tribal art site and is selling Naga human skull trophy arts.

I think it looked like this kid before it was “harvested”:

Jimmy claimed the girls were constantly dancing for him and that the chief encouraged him to enjoy his wife. But Jimmy “…had a girl waiting for me in New Jersey! Besides what if I got someone jealous? Someone like the chief? Next thing I’d have my head on a spike! Nope, I was having none of that!”

I’m not sure I believe him – here is Youtube video of a present day Naga girl showing off her shimmy.

Some girls at a festival event:

Want to see more? Check out this documentary online!

Captured By Women is a one-hour documentary in four parts that focuses on film footage by two British women in the 1930s - Beatrice Blackwood in Papua New Guinea, and Ursula Graham Bower in Manipur, India. (Which borders on Nagaland.) Here’s the first part:

Captured by Women (2011) Part 1 from Pitt Rivers Museum archive films on Vimeo.

And you can see an in depth interview by Ursula Graham Bower recorded in 1985.

People keep asking me, “so, what’s this show about? What’s your hook?” And man, I have no idea. I used to think it was a live version of this blog. But now this blog is turning to a blog version of the live show. All I can say is that it reflects a huge lesson I learned sometime in college:

Never let your IQ get in the way of a good time.

Basically, we’re cock-rocking the NPR crowd with burlesque, storytelling, comedy and sideshow acts. Sound fun? It better. If that’s not high-quality Saturday night entertainment for you, I don’t want to know what is.

I’d strongly recommend getting advance tickets, which you can do right here: And I Am Not Lying Live at Union Hall on 12/10/2011 — $10

If you’re really into the Facebook thing, you can click here to see the invite and RSVP. That doesn’t actually help anything, but it massages my starving ego.

Here’s a poster, lineup published for Google SEO trickery after the jump:

The show features …

Storytelling from

Jeff Simmermon (storyteller featured on The Moth Podcast and This American Life)
Cyndi Freeman (Wonder Woman: A How-To Guide for Little Jewish Girls)
Brad Lawrence (The Moth GrandSLAM champ)

Comedy by
Michael Che

Burlesque by

Fem Appeal,
RunAround Sue & Cyndi Freeman

and a VERY special appearance by
Mat Fraser & Julie Atlas Muz

Hope you can make it out.

The bus ride down to Washington from New York was pretty uneventful. The cab ride to Eric and Sarah’s (our hosts for the evening) was another story. That was when I found out that we’d sold out the Black Cat.

It’s really, really difficult to articulate what that felt like. Everything got brighter, sharper. Sounds had more clarity, and all the hairs in my nostrils stuck out straight. I think my metabolism tripled. We all had a belt of bourbon before going down to the club, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say that it burned up before it got all the way through the esophagus.

I’d been getting a cold, and my body did this incredibly strange thing. First, it fast-forwarded through the generative stage of the cold, stuff running out of my head like a child had salted a slug’s nest in my brain.

Then when we got to the club and literally had to walk through a small crowd of total strangers to see this sign on the door, everything just stopped completely:

The cold dried up. My body paused it completely, put the whole thing on layaway.

When moved to New York from DC, I didn’t leave many regrets behind. I left some great friends, but I felt really frustrated creatively. It was like climbing a greasy hill – it took a lot of energy to make a little progress.

So when we got a bunch of great press for the show, (special thanks to old friend Chris Klimek) which sort of surprised me. It didn’t really hit me until I saw all those people that I didn’t even know that maybe, just maybe, I’d come to a friendlier city than the one I thought I left. Old friends came out, too – one guy drove all the way up from Richmond. People crammed themselves into the crannies at the place, and then it was showtime.

And oh my God. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that we fricking killed. Imagine surfing sunbeams on a cloud made out of golden thread. Every twitch, every joke, every little comment got laughs. Some bozo sat down front and fiddled with his iPhone and I had to remind him of his manners — and even THAT killed. It got so many laughs that he thought he’d earned a little place in the show.

And as an aside, NO, he didn’t. This show features me, Brad Lawrence, Runaround Sue and Cyndi Freeman. Not me, Brad Lawrence, Runaround Sue and Cyndi Freeman and some asshole in an argyle sweater vest.

But I got lucky — wrangling with that guy added to the experience. Brad, Cyndi and I cut our teeth telling stories at the Moth on a 6-minute shot clock. It was so, so fun to riff out and stretch and feel it work. I’ve never in my entire life felt that connected to that many people, in that much control of what I was doing, just grabbing the giant wheel of a shared experience and taking that fucking thing over a few hills fast enough to give us all that tickly surge deep in the guts.

The Wonder Woman/Cheetah striptease and catfight killed, too. I got the feeling that I could have flicked balls of bellybutton lint at the crowd for a few minutes and gotten away with it.

And in the end, stepping out into the city in a black three-piece suit with an envelope full of cash in my pocket and riding the high of a thousand laughs all the way back home — I think I got as close to feeling something Muddy Waters may have felt as I’ll ever be.

Snipers could have taken us out on the way up 14th street and we’d have gone down grinning.

The Philadelphia show didn’t have the same buzz, but few things in life ever will.

We confirmed the show a little too late to get solid press for it, for one thing. And we really don’t know that many people there, either, and it was on a Sunday night. So it goes.

The show is a big, intense show, and everyone onstage brought their best game. You’ve got to work through a mellow reaction sometimes, that’s how it goes. I don’t doubt that the folks there were having a good time. But it takes a certain density, a certain compression of people to get that focused reaction you’re going for. If the room’s got a funny shape, or people are smattered around, the energy kind of dissipates before it can crash up on the stage.

But when the crowd’s small, I just appreciate the HELL out of every single person for coming out that much more. We’ll pump the show more ahead of time next time, now that we know how it works.

Here’s two views of the room at L’etage in Philadelphia, before anyone showed up:

It’s a beautiful room, and the folks there were really nice. And this happened backstage, too:

Cyndi was flinging her Wonder Woman outfit up on the counter and her (freshly washed) G-string looped itself over my drink. It’s little stuff like that, doing a show in a new town, getting onstage again with old friend and meeting new folks like Doogie Horner that make all this such a rush, and such a weird ride. And the thing is, that coaster is still just ratcheting up the hill.

The way I feel right now is the exact reason that I don’t fool with Ecstasy anymore. All that energy, all that adrenaline rush for a straight week like a hot-tub party with the Rolling Stones, and now it’s like this:

This is one of the biggest achievements of my life, a big fat kill. That meat rots fast, though, and the only way to keep eating is to pick that spear back up and get back in the jungle.

This was our first foray out of town, but it’s going to be FAR from the last. We’ll be back in Washington, back in Philadelphia, and going further and further next time. Best believe that one. Hope we see you next time.