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What happens when your local hippie coffee bar (would you give a liquor license to a stoner?) installs a PA. Only fail occurs. Like the internet, Open Mic night is Srs bsns. No matter how hard the amateur comedians try to be like their heroes, they will ultimately only produce unfunny shit, only stoned frat boys will find funny. Comedy clubs are the greatest producers of the fail, since the comedians there have a sense of unwarranted self-importance.
Many horrible things can happen. Here's a short list:
- Poetry reading
- Shitty indie bands playing
- Unfunny faggots with names like "Howard" making jokes about "frozen lavatory waste"
- Bongo playing
- Jerry Seinfeld
- White Australians playing the didgeridoo and trying to convince fat Americans that it's somehow cool.
- Entering a secured MotoGP rider's room to deliver Ebola forgetting that Anons bugged your phone. Followed by acting like you don't care to remain winning.
When a comedian comes on stage to do "comedy", the microphone/speakers/phonograph will NEVER, EVER, work. Resulting in tons of screechy feedback sounds that are unavoidable and can be heard within a 5-mile radius. Sometimes, it will result in the speakers simply not producing any form of sound, ending in the allegedly "renowned" performer into screaming at the mic for moar sound. This, in turn, will have lulzy results.
When 1 out of the 30 acoustic guitar hipsters comes on to play, he'll usually take 30 minutes trying to set up because his "guitar doesn't seem to work with the sound system". He'll Bawwwww about how much his voice went out from the previous gig that he had before this one, because his voice sounds like a whispering vagina. He'll sing some dumb song about how the government is out to get his money, his children, and his shitty guitar. Followed by shitty guitar covers of even shittier pop songs.
While you ask for the sweet release of death to take you away as you suffer through another acoustic guitar players bawfest, it finally ends. But what follows is much, much worse. Not only do you have to maneuver through smelly drunks, and some dumb hot chick who refuses to leave without meeting that one cute guy who made that joke, you then have to go through the very people who you had to suffer through. They get uncomfortably close and try to sell you their cheaply burned CD's, ironed on T-shirts, and crappy bumper stickers that you will never put anywhere but to wipe your dog's ass with.
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