Thursday, June 14, 2012
Close to Nowhere
Laughing at Smiley
Bob Smiley is from a very devoted Christian family — his dad gave him communion every night at bedtime. One night, Bob asked his dad why there weren’t crackers with the juice. His dad said, “shut up, son and drink another spoonful of the NyQuil — I mean juice!”
Lots of dads (and I expect a few moms), thought that was an excellent idea when Bob cracked that joke Saturday night at CrossPointe Christian Fellowship Church in Olive Branch.
Bob is a Christian comedian from Texas, who tours pretty much the entire United States.
A kinda lanky, kinda skinny, kinda weird-looking guy who used to have blazing red hair (age fades everything!), Bob talks depreciatingly about his physical appearance, his random brain attacks and his voice. Bob does not have a deep, macho voice. Actually, Bob does not have a male voice — unless that male is a squeaky squirrel-type male.
What Bob does have is the ability to make anyone and everyone laugh! I think everyone in the audience left with aching ribs.
Pastor Doug introduced Bob and modeled a T-shirt (I’m not as random as you think I ‘squirrel’ — I bought that one.)
When Bob came on stage, he commented that he’d finally met a pastor who made Bob look calm and quiet. He brought the house down with that remark and stayed on target all night!
I asked some of the church family to tell me their favorite joke/story from Bob. The NyQuil/communion was the one most commented on.
Pastor Doug said, “I really liked the story about when they got married, they were told they could not have children.... by his mother-in-law.”
Scott Pfaher added right below that — “she’s (the mother-in-law) about 11 hours away....by broom!”
Angela Geruc liked one of my favorites — talking about how when babies are born they’re supposed to be all pink and cuddly and sweet-looking.
Not Bob’s! He said his “first son looked like a grub worm dipped in motor oil.”
Bob met his wife at a Christian college, when they were both students there. He said the first time he saw her, she was walking across a field and turned and looked directly at him — while he was crouched in bushes and light was glinting off his binoculars.
She likes tall, dark and handsome guys — Bob is shortish, red-haired, freckled and not handsome by movie star standards.
He has no idea what his wife sees in him or why she married him.
Oh, on their wedding night, his bride comes strolling out of the bathroom...with goop on her face and her hair in huge, orange juice can-size, hair rollers.
Bob held his hand up in a science fiction type greeting and said, “Do you want me to take you to my leader?”
His wife looked at him and said, “Idiot, I am your leader!”
Bob — and I can’t imagine a more appropriate last name for him than Smiley — had fun with every member of his family and a couple members of the congregation.
His poor dad — he not only caught it in Bob’s routine, he apparently caught it a lot while Bob was growing up.
I think my favorite story was about when Bob won a stretchy “hand” at the Chuck E. Cheese “casino for kids.”
As they were driving home that night, Bob’s dad, Mr. Smiley, was listening to an old-timey country music station. Bob wanted rock and roll! Mr. Smiley wouldn’t change the station.
Bob thought — I have this stretchy hand thing — I can snap it between Mom and Dad and change the radio station!
Which he promptly did! Even managed to get it to his favorite radio station!
Dad, driving, and Mom, in the front passenger seat, immediately freaked out and began laying hands on the “possessed” radio, trying to drive the demons out.
And, they also changed the station back to the old-timey country music.
So Bob made the attempt to change the station again — this time, his brother jostled his arm and the stretchy hand thing plopped across his dad’s face, blinding him — while he was driving.
Screams and panic ensued! Can you imagine the fright? First your radio is possessed and then a demon slaps his hand across your face?
Mr. Smiley snatched the stretchy hand thing off his face and threw it out the window — with Bob howling “my hannnnnnddddddd.”
Kinda understand the NyQuil/communion after that.
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