The festival is set to open with “a loving look at the life and legacy of an enduring comedy heroine.”
Op-Ed by Pat McCrory, Governor of North Carolina
My Fellow Americans,
With the blessed instrument of democracy as your endorsement, you have entrusted me to face the literal life-and-death issues of our world head-on. Of all the people, you elected that it should be me to act as your representative in the hallowed halls of our sacred American institutions. It is an honor to be chosen to lead you. Every single day, I get on my knees and pray to God above for the strength and wisdom to make the choices worthy of your cherished confidence.
And as your elected leader, it is my solemn duty to tell you where you can shit.
I’m a very proud social conservative, which is why the issue of shitting and talking about shitting is very important to me. I believe in freedom. And freedom means being whoever you want to be without fear of persecution–as long as it doesn’t make Southerners feel all gross and stuff. The idea of shitting in the presence of anybody other than some nice muscle-y men gives me a vague sense of disconcertion that nobody should ever have to experience again.
Because men shit with men.
It’s what we do. We stare each other down, hands clasped, eyes locked as we squirm and grunt red faced, veins popping from our foreheads until finally–victory is achieved. We celebrate with primal roars and pectoral muscles, my fingers running through his arm hair like amber waves of grain.
Women have their way too, of course. Once a month, they pass a beautiful white steed that prances lightly into the nearest forest, its hooves singing the gentle sounds of Katy Perry or whatever. It finds a meadow, and then shits in that meadow on behalf of the female under the light of the moon. Anybody who took a biology class at my Christian homeschool already knows this.
Let me be frank: I do not shit in front of my wife.
Nor will she shit in front of me, no matter how many times I ask to see that awesome, white, shitting horse. Furthermore, boys have penises and girls have not-penises. That’s just the way it is. Don’t complicate this for me; I get confused and experience emotions that I don’t understand and just don’t care to, thanks. I only shit with men. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.
I can already hear the inane ramblings of the liberal left Democrat lefty-face dumb-dumbs. “Sex and gender are not the same,” they cry. “Society’s definitions of what constitutes a ‘real man’ or a ‘real woman’ are deeply flawed! And how is this any of your business?”
And to them, I respond the way I always have, though they have never understood: “What?”
Peter Kremidas is a graduate of The Second City Conservatory, The School at Steppenwolf, The iO Training Center, The Annoyance Training Center, and Purdue University. He has performed in venues all over the city as an improviser, actor, sketch writer and performer, and stand-up comedian. He can currently be seen performing with Second City house ensemble Bluff in ‘Plan C’ in the Blackout Cabaret Saturdays at 9pm, Bastards of the Underground Saturdays at midnightat iO, and intermittently at The Laugh Out Loud theatre in Chicago and Schaumburg.