Tonight Grodin debuts it's brand new material for an upcoming full length sketch-show at the world famous iO Theatre's Sketch Cage Match!  At midnight in the Del Close Theatre we will give a sneak peak into the world of jazz radio, film auditions, little kids playing war, and a peaceful ride on the CTA.  Please come and throw your support as the winners of this show are decided through audience vote.  Get out and vote you lazies! Regardless of if we win or lose, we shall always remain with our faces like Grodin.

With the stench of beer and wings heavy on our breath, Charles Grodin once again took the stage at Mullen's. It was your typical boy meets girl, boy eats mini electric eels to impress girl, girl gets killed by a swinging sandbag kind of love story. And let's not forget their pervy teacher who just wanted to find some no-strings-attached lovin' at the Red Lobster. Of course, it all worked out in the end and Lars discovered his mom was a bitchy supermodel. Thank goodness for random, deadly, ill-timed sandbags.

But seriously, y'all, if a teacher or vice principal tries to pick you up at a Red Lobster, run. Dont' wait to find whether their van has windows, just run. Unless! Unless, of course, it's during Lobster Fest. In that case, you should run. Run to the buffet table start stuffing as much lobster into your pockets as is socially acceptable.

Football.  Three guys watching a Bears game talking about what guys always talk about when watching football.  Existentialist identity issues and the possibility of existence being an all too realistic illusion of the mind.  On top of that, beers are 8 dollars!  If the world is only as we create and then perceive it, then beers should probably be cheaper at a football game.  The bears punter knows he is real, but the fact that the bears never punt isn't making it any better.  Bad t.v. salesmen, frustrated drug dealers, Ron doing the robot... Football. 

Alright, alright. So, Charles Grodin had a show at the magnanimous, newish improv venue Quenchers. And it was a blast. Particularly the Cuban Reuben. TRY IT!

Our suggestion was, obviously, Elliott Gould. Now, we could tell you all about how we painted a tender portrait of Elliott Gould's son, Gerard Gould, working at Starbucks after failing as an actor. We could go into how he lost his true love when she stole his Jaguar and Elliott bedded her. We might even mention that an old high school enemy of Gerard's stopped by his place of work just to create an unholy mess of the bathroom. But instead, we just want to make this humble plea. Go watch an Elliott Gould motion picture. He's fantastic. We can only hope our performance measured up to the man in some small way.

Pete the garbage man has found oil in the gulf, and now rakes in 300K per year.  He owns a boat, he's king of the ocean, but he's still faithful to his wife.  Pete loves boobs.

Mr. Cantankerous only hauls two shrimp a day.  He can't sell them to McDonald's, and he certainly can't sell them to a consulting firm.  But the son of a principal--a sailor boy in training--longs to be his first mate. 

Turns out the oil-slicked shrimp taste better than the clean ones.

Pete's oil fortune has fun afoul.  He has decided that Burger King, in addition to being the name of an already successful company, would also make a silly name for an oil company.  Unfortunately, Pete's Oil--a hamburger company--and Pete's Soil--a gardening conglomerate--have served Pete with notices to cease and desist.  Both companies dispute the naming similarities of Pete's Oil.

Now Pete's broke.  His wife, drunk from the pleasures of being married to a man who makes 300K per year, goes back on the dating scene.  She's seduced by Bill Gates, who's eaten 400K in Kennedy half dollars, but she settles for Brian, the legless cashier from the burger joint, Pete's Oil.

Pete and Brian both die trying to swim their way through the Gulf oil spill.  Richard Branson helps deliver the eulogy, but Tony Hayword interjects with one simple message: "Fuck you, we don't care."

Also, Shirley Temples are delicious.

Oil spill.

Well, we did it. Charles Grodin kicked off the Chicago Live! Festival with a brand new form, possibly never attempted before or ever again, and the results were positively supernatural. Our now dear friend Barbara G Meyer, psychic extraordinaire, gave a free palm reading to Jim, audience member extraordinaire, to inspire our show. We learned that Jim (if he had a website you can bet we'd link to it) is an ambitious career man, but needs to focus on the task at hand if he wants to suceed. He also loves his family, though some members can be trying, and has an important choice ahead.

What followed was our humble artistically-licensed take on Jim's future. We saw the office drone who somehow manages to go out for a pastry every time his boss stops by to check in. There was a visit from Great Aunt Sarah. Not "great" because of her age, but because she listens to Broken Bells. Fortunately, an A-Team style Geek Squad (featuring Shaq, Truman Capote and Jeffrey Dahmer) saved the day in the end.

Sure, the tears on your keyboard tell me you regret missing this once in Jim's lifetime event. But don't fret! We've got shows galore this summer. So check out the schedule for details.

We now resume our regular Grodin progamming. 

Horace just wants to remember.  His wife just wants him to get her sweater from the car, she's cold.

A squatter makes coffee, and a trip to the top of Mount Everest gets you a Best Buy gift card and a bag of Reese's Cups.  I don't think Linda will be coming back.

Harvey was a Titanic survivor and has a music box that sings Dixie.  His wife is losing her mind.

Clowns and mimes mourn a dead, but grinning colleague.  Don't look them in the eyes, or they'll kiss you.

Duck.

Posted by Charles Grodin

“Hmmm.  Hmmm.  Yes.  Yes, I see.  Very strong.  Yes.  Yes.  Very, very interesting.”

Not sure if these were cues to begin the conversation, she just sat nodding and smiling.

“And I see you also volunteer your time at the animal shelter.”

“That’s right.  Once when I was little I witnessed a dog being-”

“And you’ve also got musical talents, I see.”

“Yes, last Spring I was named to the Southern Illinois all-regional-”

“But tell me, do you aspire towards excellence?”

“Well, of course I do.  I never once-”

“Because if I’m going to see to it your application be accepted, I want to make damn sure you won’t let me down!”

“I don’t mean to sound pushy, sir, but I think my-”

“Let me tell you a story.  A story about a boy who was once your age.  He sat right where you’re sitting now and he promised me, promised me, dear, that I could forward his application with utmost confidence in his abilities.  And do you know what happened?”

“No, sir.  I can’t imagine-”

“He’s now the president of the Chicago Board of Trade.  Can you imagine!?  The Chicago Board of Trade!”

“That’s terrific, sir, I’ll bet you’re awful-”

“That’s right.  And he owes it all to me.  Do you know when I last heard from him?”

“I assume you-”

“Yesterday.  Just yesterday!  Isn’t that remarkable?”

“Truly inspiring, sir.  I just hope-”

“He calls me as if I were his own father.  And why does he do this?”

“Certainly it’s because-”

“Because without my divine intervention, he’d be half the man he is today.  And he knows it!”

“You are undoubtedly-”

“Now, how can I be sure that you will be the same success as that boy so many years ago?”

“Sir, all I ask is for a chance.”

“Fine then, I’ll inform you of my decision next week.”

Lars posted this

This evening, Charles Grodin will participate in the inaugural performance of the Chicago Live! Festival. As part of the festival's raison d'etre, we will incorporate an non-improv artform into our show. And our guest artist will be professional Chicago psychic, Barbara G Meyer. This is completely uncharted territory for us and perhaps the known improv universe (which is, of course, the entire point of the festival).

So, what strange and fantastic revelations might we uncover tonight?

You'll have to attend to find out...

Ladies and Gentlemen,

This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Charles Grodin and the Internet belong together like Ramen Noodles and sadness. We look forward to updating you, the public, to what's going on in the world of Grodin and at large. You've already shown a lot of courage by just visiting this site, so don't let your footsteps falter. Take a deep breath and keep clicking. One day, you'll thank us.

As always, we salute our namesake.