When the soil eroded all through the dust bowl in the 1930s, few families that participated in the westward diaspora found greener pastures than in Joketown, USA.
Named Joketown for its abundance of humorous-natural resources--i.e. its rolling whoopie cushion fields, its majestic Groucho glasses orchards and its refreshing seltzer springs--, this plucky little town would rise to prominence in the early 1950s for proliferating the notion that a baseball player could be named "Who" and such an unlikely name would cause a maelstrom confusion and hilarity if a manager were to ask WHO was on first.
But not even in a funny bone bastion like Joketown, USA can something gold stay. The fertile earth that once produced harvests so bountiful that nary a can of nuts from coast to coast could be opened without silly snakes springing out dried up. Over-cultivation. As you, dear reader, no doubt learned from that wise old guidance counselor who did not live to see the end of the 00s, laughter is the most dangerous drug of them all. Once the world took its first hit of laughter
--regrettably from "Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Aren't you glad I didn't say banana?" "Why yes! I am glad you didn't say banana! Awful fruit. Far too phallic a food to be eaten in 1959 the year of our lord. My goodness we are repressed and that's just fine ahehheeeeeh...rg.h...jjhhhhh...😓"--
they wanted more...MORE...MORE!
Oh great mother Gaia, giver of life, could not keep up with the demand for gags and Joketown's residents had to move deep underground, the only place it was still warm, to figure out the fate of their silly little Utopia. Simple task deciding the town's future but it cannot begin without strong leadership at the helm.
Every month, 12 Joketownians leave their beloved subterranean home to take the stage at Montreal's world-famous Theatre Ste. Catherine to perform plays written that week so that they can select a Mayor. A Mayor that can lead them back to prosperity. The four candidates--incumbent mayor Daniel Carin and entrants Bianca Yates, Jason Grimmer, & Deirdre Trudeau--and their teams will stage their plays (THAT THEY STARTED WRITING ON WEDNESDAY. STAKES IS HIGH) this Saturday, competing for your votes-by-applause so that they may have the honour of making the Joketown phoenix rise.
It's rather Sisyphean. Every month the Mayor is challenged by three more entrants who think they know how to make Joketown great again. I suppose it is hard to get along while living in tight quarters with no sunshine or air to share. And if the futility deters you from participating in this bizarre ritual these 12 very funny mole-people perform every month, remember that your applause is more than just a vote. It's a thank you for all the great gags that simply would not exist if it had not been for Joketown's blubs, swssstts and teehhees (<--- supposed to be the laughing equivalent of blood sweat and tears).
If you have ever laughed at the following goofs, come say thank you by putting your hands together at the end of what's sure to be a very wacky show:
slip on a banana peel
pie in the face
getting doored by a car
someone playing acoustic guitar
giraffe trying to drink some water lol so cute
anvil on the head
someone getting fucking ROASTED
yoooooooooo. FourTwenty! (the time, not the day)
banana peel pie in the face
your mom's pumpkin pie because it's a complete joke
Do your part to keep Joketown from death by negative-sea-level-asphyxiation and come to Theatre Ste. Catherine Saturday August 13th @ 8pm. RVSP on Facebook!