The Poo and Pee Comedian

microphone on theater stage ,golden star on background  with red curtains

Why are there so many potty mouth comedians? I believe it’s due to oppressive parents who never let us get the scatalogical giggles out of our system. That’s a huge opportunity missed, and it led to my latest epiphany.

The genesis of the Poo and Pee Comedian can be traced back to a conversation I had with my son when he was but a wee lad. (Wee as in small, not as in ‘wee wee.’)

I picked him up from kindergarten, and he was giggling as we drove home. “Did something funny happen, young man?” I eyeballed him in the car seat.

“Yeah,” he replied, doing his best to contain himself. “We lined up for a potty break, and on the way to the bathroom, Chad said ‘I can’t wait!’” He paused, partially for dramatic effect, partially to stifle more giggles. “And then he farted!”

Sheer pandemonium. The boy was beside himself, tears of joy and merriment cascading down his face. It took him three days before he calmed down.

Now my instinctive parenting reaction at the time was to scold him for dropping the f-word. Why, you ask, is “fart” banned by parents in 48 states? It’s because helicopter dads and moms consider it a gateway swear word. Today’s “fart” is tomorrow’s “f—.”

Before I lashed out, my epiphanal light-bulb went off.

Adults love watching entertainers cuss, curse, and vulgarize for hours on end. Listening to the f-bomb has become our national pastime, and we also love our s— sandwiches and a–hole allusions.

It’s a human reaction to react to the shock of hearing a cuss-word. We’ll pay cash for it. So why hasn’t anyone taken this down to the youngsters? Why are we only giving them cute little pictures books, when all my son wants to talk about is Chad’s farts?

Enter the Poo and Pee Comedian

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I’ve always thought about giving stand-up comedy a shot. This was my golden opportunity.

For two weeks, I created comedic material I knew would blow the socks off a bunch of second graders. Then I invited my son and all his friends to the playground for a Saturday afternoon performance.

The parents, excited that some moron had volunteered for an hour of two of babysitting, were all too happy to entrust me with their young. The lil’ ones assembled, and I launched into my routine.

“Who has a brother out there?” I asked.

A few hands flew up.

“Do you like him?”

A chorus of “NOs”.

“Do you know what my brother said to me the other day?” I asked.

The children looked at me, blank-faced.

“He told me to go jump in a lake. And you know what I told him?” I dropped my voice, and looked around the park. Then in a half-whisper, I said, “I told him to stick his head in a pile of poop.”

Total pandemonium redux. Kids were knee-slapping, squealing, and I’m sure half of them wet their whatevers. I was off and running. For a good half hour, I talked about pee, poop, pee-pee, poopie, and peeing on poopie.

“I have CDs of today’s performance for sale,” I said at the end of the show. “Just ask your parents for $2 and you’ll get a copy.”

Normally you’d expect parents to raise holy hell with such a preponderance of scatalogical humor, but alas, this was not the case. But these were the same parents who were foolish enough to trust their kids to me, so they happily ponied up the cash.

The Pee and Poo Comedian became an overnight sensation. I started booking gigs at day-cares, libraries, and playgrounds. Soon I was opening up for the Wiggles and the Teletubbies, and before you knew it, I was the headline act.

I can’t tell you how prideful I am that someday, when these little children grow up, they’ll look back on their childhood and think of baseball, sandboxes, and me sticking my brother’s head in a pile of poop. It’s so wonderful to make a difference in a child’s life.

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