You’re sitting in a small comedy club because a friend suggested—no, insisted—that you come here. After protesting a bit, you eventually relented.
The club has an odd vibe. Some of the audience look like 1960’s hippies; others are 2024 AI engineers. A guy in back keeps shouting, “Elvis rocks!”
The host is about 95 years old, but has a contagious energy and a gleam in his eye. He steps to the microphone and says, “I was wandering around out back and found this guy. If you’re old enough, you just might find him familiar.”
An even older man comes onstage. His head is tilted to the side; his hair bedraggled and much too long. Wait a minute… is that George Carlin? Before you can process the idea of a dead comedian mysteriously coming back to life, he starts ranting…