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P. Fanatics Presents: Terrorisms!

Two shows left before P. Fanatics is dead forever. Go to both!

Poster by Joe Myers:

Dan Shapiro’s Rigged Open Mic: Role Models

Sunday, May 13th
7:30 pm (open mic sign-up)
Cole’s Bar
2338 N. Milwaukee
hosted by Dan Shapiro (obviously) and Mason Johnson

Hey Bucko, you’re required to attend Dan Shapiro’s Rigged Open Mic, with featured readers Ben Lyon and Janna Sobel.

Dan Shapiro is a piece a work. One weird motherfucker. Everything in his world is backwards. You know how some men hold doors open for women? Well, women hold doors open for Dan.

Dan Shapiro gives burritos diarrhea.

Point in case: you can’t be as awesome as Dan. Sorry. You don’t deserve to smell his farts.

But you can certainly try. Bring your stories, poems, skits—anything with words—and sign up for the goddamn open mic. Try to out-Dan all the other readers. Read something insanely awesome, make a legend of yourself, and, if you’re lucky, people just might like you.

Oh yeah, the weirdest asshole at the open mic will win a prize. Possibly one of them talkin’ fish people hang on their wall. We’re not sure yet. It’ll be pretty awesome though.

Once the open mic is over, we’ll enjoy the writings of Ben Lyon and Janna Sobel, our featured readers. They’re going to give us a nice, thorough, and guaranteed-to-be-awesome lesson on “Role Models.” In other words, they’ll make you feel better about yourself after witnessing the open mic.

Open Mic Details:

MAX TIME OF FIVE MINUTES. You go over and Matt Rowan will manhandle your manhood (or womanhood) off the stage.

Sign-up ends at 7:30. Show up beforehand and find Mason, the man in the cream-colored women’s coat, to sign up.

Your piece does not need to fit the theme of “Role Models,” but it would probably help you win if it did.

The open mic will feature five readers, chosen at random from a hat.


P. Fanatics: I’m Not Racist, But… THIS SUNDAY

Dil Pickle Club Has Soul by Daniel Shapiro

I was visiting my parents a few weeks ago. My Dad was looking for his favorite movie, “Gaily, Gaily”, on the new Netflix streaming service. Unfortunately, they had it. He was trying to convince me to watch it. “Your grandparents used to hang out with the writers of the movie at the Dil Pickle Club.” I remembered the facebook invitation that I had recently received.

“I was invited to the Dil Pickle Club!”

The Dil Pickle Club was a bar located in an alley during the early part of the twentieth century. This new Dil Pickle Club I was invited to is a reading series and more that honors the original’s legacy by keeping things laid back and intelligent.

I was definitely going. Not just to have a good time, but to somehow honor the legacy of my grandparents who I have never met. They’re still alive. They just want nothing to do with me. Joke. They died before I was born. I know them from stories, writings, and photographs. My grandmother was really hot.  No joke.

So we showed up to the Hideout, which is a groovy bar with an awesome, little stage area. The sign told us to go around back. There we  were met by a guy dressed as a 20’s gangster and holding a prop tommy gun. He checked our IDs. When he checked my youthful looking friends ID, he said, “The picture looks just like you.” I thought that was funny. So we entered through the alley like the original Dil Pickle Club. Nice touch.

Before the show an infomercial played on the screen onstage. It was for swords. It consisted of a portly man with a mustache chopping random objects (pigs, garbage cans full of water) with various swords. It was one of the coolest things I had ever seen. (Ed. Note, he speaks of Cold Steel.)

A slam poet named George Decelles started the show. Her poem was well written and emotional. Pop culture writer Jenny Benevento was the next presenter. She gave a slide show presentation on Precious Moments figurines and their inventor. What started out as a snarky and funny piece about a ranch and church in Missouri dedicated to the cute, big-eyed, angelic, child-like figurines became a solemn piece on how people find love and deal with death. As the band that played between acts (Honey and the Buffalo) stated, it was a tough act to follow.

Next up was poet and painter Ned Broderick. His painting were hung around the room. His artwork blew away the audience. His poems were so moving that no one clapped after the first one. The words were raw and powerful like the paintings.

Before intermission the stunning mathematician Emily Reihl explained an algorithm she invented to pair up couples. I’m no good at math, and I was a little drunk, so it made little sense, but I liked it.

Sayward Schoonmaker did a piece on how she likes things that swoon and swell. In it she quoted a Frank Zappa song, so she’s awesome in my book. The last act was Richard Lindberg.  He’s a local historian. He kept us all entertained with his tales of Mid-Western serial killers, and his thick, Chicago accent.

After the show there was great soul music spun by the Windy City Soul Club. They mostly spun tracks I’d never heard before plus “Soul Finger” which I can’t hear enough.

It was one of the best readings I’d ever been to. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a sub zero Thursday night.

Notes from Mason:

Dan failed to mention how much he danced, which was a lot. That guy got his groove on in a way that made grown women sigh and grown men curse his name. Here’s a picture, albeit blurry, of happy Dan wearing a hat he stole from a police officer while riding the high that is soul music.
And here’s a pic of me, Dan and some young lady we found in the alleyway out back.
(photo by Jacob Knabb)
Needless to say, we had fun. Thanks for writing this up, Dan!