[Fips was there...] Pun Rocking at Southpaw: Punderdome 3000

Punderdome's Patron Saint

We here at FIPS spend a hell of a lot of time out and about in Brooklyn, attending outdoor concerts, comedy shows and various other events. So [FIPS Was There...] is where we're gonna' talk about all this shit.

With the Secret Science Club, Adult Education, and a whole 'hood full of storytelling series, Park Slope makes nerding out in public fun, easy, and darn-near accepted. The geeky element also gathers monthly at Southpaw for a few hours of dorky wordplay known as Punderdome 3000. I caught December's helping of the audience-judged pun competition last night -- and, yes, I admit it. I had a pretty fucking good time.

Much like a story slam, Punderdome cedes the stage to average folk like you or me. Anyone can sign up to compete, as individuals or as teams, and the entrants go through several stages of round-robbin competition. Gven a theme (e.g.,"Campbell's and Progresso"), contestants write up their best/worst puns, before offering them up to the audience for groans and/or cheers. Winners are chosen by applause levels, measured through a strange, human-powered "device" known as the Clap-o-meter.

But it's all much goofier than that basic structure conveys. Hosts Fred and Jo pack the proceedings with a trunk-full of kitschy traditions appropriate to the dorky-dad-humor of a pun show. And most of it calls for shameless audience participation. First, that Clap-o-meter. It's totally unscientific -- and actually seems like kind of a tough job. One audience member climbs inside a board with a rotating arrow, which he or she spins to "measure" audience volume -- from "rotten tomatoes" up to "punderful" (of course). The hosts spend a few minutes "calibrating" the person-device, but it's still a lot of vague power for just some random audience member.

One version of the Clap-o-meter (via brooklynexposed.com)To avoid dead air while contestants scribble their puns, the hosts invite an audience member or three up to lead the bar in a sing-a-long: usually of an old TV theme, and usually mostly butchered. (Last night featured, among others, "The Golden Girls," with lots of mumbling until the "Thank you for Being a Friend" part everyone actually knows. Editor's Note: That wouldn't have happened if I was there.) Yep, it has nothing to do with puns, but it still fits the atmosphere pretty perfectly. The show starts up with a "lightening round," wherein Frank reads half a pun, and the first audience member to complete it gets a Payday candy bar "gently lobbed in their general direction."

Then there are the hosts themselves, both sporting Hawaiian shirts, the uncoolest jeans you'll see this side of your fifth-grade class photo, and big, floppy, polka-dotted ties. Frank looks like a friendly but probably pretty unsuccessful used car salesman, and slips into a damn-convincing Rodney Dangerfield voice during any awkward moment. Jo handles the procedural side of the show (rules, voting, etc.) with the air of a cracked official -- notepad in hand, serious, but flinging jokes from out of nowhere.

All that audience participation makes for a pretty riled up crowd. You might think a wordplay show would be sedate -- but it's more like the groundlings, flinging commentary at the stage. People feel free to shout puns even during the reading of the rules. ("No cell phone usage." "Are you Sirius?!")

As for the competitors, their performance begins with their noms-de-pun (sorry). Last night saw "Paul Punyan," "Punger Games," "4 Leaf Clever," "Puns de Leone," and "Pun-xatony Phyllis," amongst others. (Groaning yet?) Winning over the audience takes both clever wordplay and a good presentation schtick. (And, being a hot girl didn't hurt either, I noticed.)

Some of the punners went for rapid-fire lists of puns. On the theme of tourism, "The Puntiff" riffed on a series of cities and monuments, culminating with, "I'll be Notred Damned if I don't win." Others attempted to tell stories, did a little standup set, or just delivered one (hopefully great) groaner. One of my faves, from Paul Punyan: "Where do you go to pay for sex with a bird? A chicken brothel." (Yeah, it's awful, but the guy's super-intense stare made it priceless. And that's a hell of a setup question.)

Biggest complaint about this show -- it's fucking long. They go through four rounds, plus all the other business. The first round lasted an hour. I'll confess I didn't make it through the whole thing. But, at five bucks, you won't feel bad staying for as little or as much pun as your rolling eyes can take.