The Broad City and Eric Andre Show comedian is one famously funny mofo, and at $25 a pop, tickets sold out fast. Audience members arrived early — 6 p.m. sharp, as instructed — to line up and receive wristbands certifying their age-appropriateness. I began to wonder how in hell the Shirley's back room would fit more than 100 people.
But when the doors opened and bodies piled in, it was actually quite comfortable inside. The drunk crowd got even drunker as a few local openers warmed up the room.
Billy Corben, of Cocaine Cowboys directorial fame, cracked a few jokes about local Miami stuff. Funny chubster Cisco Duran killed with jokes about fat people screwing and made everyone want pizza. No Emotions stormed the stage in a gold Muse of Tragedy mask, dropping rhymes that were half good advice and half hilarious observation.
After being properly lubed, the crowd was ready for the man of the hour. He came on with no introduction and ripped right into what felt like a very special performance. Many of his jokes were relative to the time and place. He seemed to have done some writing the night before. It's cool to think someone of his caliber, in his own words “a C-minus-list celebrity,” could come through Gramps' monthly Tuesday comedy show and be so inspired to book what must have been a severely low-paying gig.
He joked about everything from sex to politics, cracking about how some of his peers like to have a meal and a Skype session with their wives after a show. Buress, on the other hand, likes to have sex with a stranger from the audience (who would be the lucky girl this time? I was way too drunk to notice). He ripped into the human litmus test of Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump and joked about how the only way to solve our problem is murder. He then added that someone in the audience would inevitably film him saying, "We should kill Donald Trump," and put it on the internet (you're welcome, Buress).
He poked fun at himself, remarking about how weird it is to be so mildly famous that a guy might walk up to him in a restaurant and say things like, "I can't believe I'm the only guy talking to you right now." He joked that he was famous enough to get into any club in the world, but only after talking to like three people. "Where's your manager? I know someone here knows me," he quipped.
The crowd was rowdy, but Buress was a master at tackling the hecklers. It clearly pissed him off, though, and he remarked that he would have to start kicking people out. I'd pay $25 to get kicked out of a show that funny any day.