The role of "comedian" (as in standup) is especially interesting, and inherits from "court jester", a truth teller who knew the mind of the king well enough, so the story goes, to give him much needed cues in the form of harmless jokes. "Hey King, you're being a jerk" might not be the right way to approach a particular king.
They say King Trump was rather not into court jesters, but that's a rumor (he had Steve Bannon, Roger Stone and Rudy Giuliani), and besides we're supposed to pretend he was a President, not a King (I compromise on "impotus"), as if The District were still capable of staging anything remotely constitutional, now that unfettered money rules the roost.
Anyway, Ramy Youssef had a much easier job than Trump's jester (Biden is his own jester they tell me), with a large friendly audience of many fellow Arabs. Pan-Arabism is alive and well once Arabs find themselves moored in distant places like Portland. From this distance, Egyptian and Palestinian are very much one people, a lot like ethnic Russians and Ukrainians.
Actually, I'm somewhat off the mark. Intra-Arab tensions and stereotypes must be addressed. Ramy had a set of jokes about marrying a Saudi and thinking she might be inner circle enough to know something scandalous. The audience responded with hoots and hollers.
In another sequence he psychoanalyzed the role of the therapist in Muslim culture, a somewhat new thing for some, especially the oldsters. Fears about what one's spouse might be saying, behind one's back, to her therapist, seemed to hit a note.
Ramy mocked how unsuited a Muslim would be for this therapist job, especially when it came to preserving confidentiality. "Let's go tell your mom right now!" she would command. No, if you want a competent therapist, you really need someone Jewish (laughter).
The jokes about Israel had to do with Ramy going back to a new girlfriend's house, and when she went off stage for a bit (in the story) he turned on the light and saw the giant Israeli flag used as decor. Only a USA flag could have scared him more, in terms the twisted psycho-pathologies it suggested. How could one reconcile such fears with sex when she came back? Something to bring up with one's therapist later perhaps.
My friend Dr. T., a college professor who had the extra free ticket, found the show pretty funny, as did I, but we both noticed our place on the bell curve, in terms of age. This was a mostly younger crowd. When it came to the grandma and grandpa jokes, those were about us.
Ramy had some jokey stories about: loving his rescue dog (countering a stereotype) and how he came to own it by competing with white privilege; changing mask mores over the course of the pandemic; his refusal to endorse impotus Biden despite some arm twisting from the 2020 campaign.
Upon entering the theater, we had our phones imprisoned in felt pouches, which were handed back to us for safekeeping. At the show's conclusion, we filed past theater staff with magic pouch-opening devices.
Given I'd had a couple Jack Daniels before the show down the street, at Bear Paw Pub (many thanks to Dr. D. for driving me), this funny phone business just added to the comedy.
