The Laugh Factory
THE PIMP OF COMEDY
THE PIMP OF COMEDY
Written By: Atelston Fitzgerald Holder 1st
The Laugh Factory is quite an experiential dichotomy encapsulated in the gist of a performance whole, it’s overall bureaucratic methodologies has uncannily surpassed that of it’s rivaled adversaries. A well organized process coated like an enigmatic chameleon, glowing in ambiguity awaiting skewed perpetuation.
A stigma oblivious to the eager comedian and comedienne, and may I conjure on my anticipation for such a demystifying notion? The all encompassing revolutionary quintessential of humor, disdained in bureaucratic luxury, quite an irony of grandeur.
The potential remnants of humors presupposed pervasiveness has cascaded into a victim of its own discretion. A paradigmatic renaissance shift is an imperative notion, one that surpasses triviality, a subjective prominence, to which seems counterintuitive to the objectivity of humor. (I apologize for being vaguely inexplicable…)
This mediums aesthetic appeal is quite an incongruous juxtaposition dying for cerebral and surrealistic resolution, and the overall rooms ambience protrudes eccentricity, an unorthodox privilege coated in subtlety. The aggregation of naive comedic disparity, and building rapport with the dissonance is the rudimentary of The Laugh Factory.
The cascading evolution of humor skewed in a dichotomic state, beyond the scope of artistic clarity, a repugnance that defies human description and a travesty beyond authentic comedic comprehension.
Who gets accreditation for this looming chain reaction domino effect? “Noone;” However, I wish these clustering debris of Ideological Gatekeepers whither into the cold desert air.
Sometimes I ponder on my infatuation for triviality, It’s never a luxury I cannot afford, However, exception to the rules are always an interesting anomaly, because it deviates in such a contrasting realm, and ignoring such a protruding debris would be a travesty that exceeds a dull moment.
Welcome to the modern day authority on comedy, one who’s vocabulary and dialect is that of a rancid cactus, barely formulating two syllables. Articulating the most mundane pseudo-centric verbal debris, He emphasizes on aesthetic chastisation, subjective ostracisation and specifically a pessimistic disdain for idiosyncratic unorthodox peculiarities. This ad hominem is justified.
His pseudo given credibility on comedy critiquing is not emulated by his comedic accomplishments, its derived from a business power position perspective, he’s making business assertions from a sociological perspective, specifically targeting materials that he believes will have a pervasive sensationalistic appeal, Thus idolizing that potential comedic prominence. (Mainstream, Streamline…)
That misconception disallows him the creative ability to see innovation and originality, and possibly exposing the world to the multifaceted arrays of humor and it’s myriad of possibilities, exploring comedic ingenuity from different perspective.
Here’s the intriguing irony when it comes to “Jamie Masada” These are his latent fundamental comedic ideas that he implemented in his initial stages of comedy that failed miserably, maybe he’s completely oblivious to this notion, a successful business owner naive within a circle of his own retrospect, quite a paradoxical phenomenon trying to retrofit the ideology of this buffoon-ic culprit.
He sits on a Throne like a condescending authority in the field of humor, plowing away on his comedic bankruptcy, incapable of differentiating ambiguity from incongruity, further more process the terms. His insights of humor is a raving animosity to this emotional enigma of laughter. His mediocre subjective ingenuities of humor pacifies his delusional ideologies, a stranger lost in a false infatuation is the hallmark of his verbal plethora.
Now he jibber and jab comedians in his weekly open mics, offering feedbacks of disparagement, and while this seems economically and politically driven, I find his cascading belligerent undertone a deeper conundrum to ponder on. If the crux of his insignificant and insidious views, were a minuscule of irony, I’d embrace it innocuously; contrarily, this iniquitous blabbering shrine of a mental tadpole, leaves comics in a state of despondency.
I’m continuously hearing complaints about comedians experience, But their complaints are not flamboyantly genuine, it’s coated in a passive sarcastic tonality, humorously enough, their disdain for confrontation is an emotional spec of dust in the bigger spectrum of things.
No single individual determines my fate in comedy, that determining factor is souly dependent on the audience perspectives, and ofcourse, the pictures I paint with my imagination. On the contrary, Having a comedically bankrupt buffoon spurt perpetual jism confidently, is nothing more than naiveness sugarcoated in ignorance.
He defined my clownish attributions to comedy as a circus jitter, and although my benevolence was a humbling grey area, I remained calm in the gist of his follies, while he banters away with his two syllable articulation, disparaging horse vomit, illustrious pigs cum and blabbering away his cortextual semen into complete oblivion.
Oh..! He did ask me if I ‘Read’ Ironic indeed.
The apex of his summaries are usually ended in condescending cliches, stereotypical expectations and obsessive orthodoxies, Quite the contrast of what the rudiments of humor is contingent on, and to posit this pillar of conventionalism as the pinnacle of comedic potentiality vs comedic apocalypse is a false dichotomy.
Nevertheless, The Laugh Factory is a silver lining comedians eventually ponder on, and mustering up to apex of this notion is truely sarcasm, I say this without a sense of irony..!
Hell Hath No Fury Like A Comedians Scorn
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Article Written By: Atelston Fitzgerald Holder 1st
Stage Name: Mr Pregnant
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