You Look Like a Comedy Show

Seems I can’t feel things without a drink and darkness to hide in.

On our way to a trans benefit in Louisville, Kentucky, I felt the usual protectiveness I always felt around Lisa. As was the road routine, I headed into a rest stop to scope things out while she waited in the car. While heading back to give the safe go-ahead that she could pee in peace, I saw through the window that some large dude in overalls and no shirt was talkin’ to my girl and I all but kicked that door open, these hands in mid-flight.

Courtesy Katrina Coleman

Katrina Coleman (left) and Lisa Michaels in Louisville, Kentucky

I heard him exclaim,

“I just love that purple hair!”

“Thank you, pumpkin!”

So my hands were set to rest, not to be thrown that hour.

We made our way into town and to the arts district before the show. Found a taco place we agreed on and we sat to eat.

Enter a middle-aged couple. Clearly on a weekend motorcycle trip, they asked us about our business and found out we did comedy. We heard a great deal about their kids and what they loved.

“I got a joke,” the man said.

“Lemme hear it,” Lisa responded.

“Okay, so a traveling salesman comes across a house. He knocks, and a little boy of about eight answers the door. He’s standin’ there in six-inch stilettos, fishnet pantyhose, red lipstick on.”

I started to get hot. How fucking dare this person hurt my Lisa or make her feel lesser in any goddam way! I could feel the anger rise in me like a tide. My hands knelt on the starting block ready to fly at a moment’s notice.

So you saw she’s trans and thought you could play some game to hurt her, I thought. I’ll whip your ass in front of your wife and tag your children in my goddam Instagram post you piece of …

“The salesman says, ‘Are your parents home?’ And the little boy says (with a dramatic drag off the cigarette), ‘What the fuck do you think?'”

Lisa lost her fuckin’ mind laughing and I was one second behind her. They asked us to meet them later at some random place across the river. My hands never flew anywhere.

No matter how many times I was ready to fight for her, it was never needed. Somehow she made instant connections with any stranger. We went to the river because she loved rivers. We did a show because she loved shows. I learned that the American Sign Language for trans is a mash-up of “becoming” and “self.”

There are a lot more stories like this one, from every trip and from every show.

In Louisville, after the show, I took one hit and was stoned as hell (like a baby, she’d say) in the living room of some witch we met, who naturally loved her. I lay on the floor talking with them about how living is the thing we all share so what else possibly matters, because she loved doing that, too.

I’m a junkyard dog that got adopted by a fae. She will always be the Sarah to my Hoggle. I would love to untangle her necklace or fix her brakes again.

I never had a big sister. Never had a muse. Never had a Lisa Michaels and never will again.

Then again, I always will. My hands love her.

Lisa Michaels, Memphis comedienne and self-styled “Purple Haired Tramazon,” died last month. Katrina Coleman is co-creator and producer of the You Look Like comedy show.

First things first, I ask Tommy Oler to insult me. He is, after all, co-host along with Katrina Coleman of the monthly You Look Like a Comedy Show, where comedians are paired off in a tournament of insults.

“I have to see what you look like,” he responds.

Oler says that the You Look Like a Comedy Show is a natural for comedians. “We were all bullied, and we bullied,” he says. He notes that when comedians get together, the shit’s going to fly.

Courtesy Tommy Oler

Tommy Oler and Katrina Coleman

These gladiators of put-downs are local comedians and comedians from around the Southeast. Competing at Saturday’s show are: Kaia Hodo from Fayetteville, Arkansas; Brandon Perel Sams of Memphis; Amy Sulam from Nashville; Mitchell Dunnam from Memphis; returning champ Ozzy Jackson of Little Rock; and Lila Bear of Memphis.

Oler and Coleman knew they were on to something even before the first show, such was the excitement. Oler says that every comedian knows his laughs, and the laughs they were getting were “so large … I don’t get this alone.”

Courtesy Tommy Oler

Oler says that it’s impossible to hurt a comedian’s feelings, and if it is possible, then maybe this is not the show for them. The insults range from the absurd to the downright lewd. Oler and Coleman have been shocked at some of the jokes. One comedian who hurled such a foul jewel said later, “I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell.”

As co-hosts, Oler and Coleman take jabs at each other. Oler is ribbed about his youthful looks, and one thing they both riff on is that they look alike. Says Oler, “I told her she looks like my after-picture on Faces of Meth.”