In a Smokey Room.

A deputation of noted citizens appeared at Cole's recently. They came looking for Your Old Buddy Foz.

The distinguished gentlemen entered Coleman Brice's establishment on a bright Tuesday afternoon, hats in hand, and inquired after Your Buddy. Travis Bartender nodded wordlessly to the back of the bar.

They walked quietly, tentatively, to the room that was dense with cigar smoke and piano music.

Old Leon "Smoked Salmon" Strokes sat at the piano, working out some new chords to his old Brian Eno bit. He stopped briefly to sip from his whiskey on the rocks and returned to the keyboard.

Old Patrick and Young Leah mulled over a brace of Domain DuPage pints, mooning the way young lovers do.

Your Pal Foz sat quietly at at a back table, dressed down to his shirtsleeves, his tie at half-mast, and his Martini half-full. A thoroughly marked-up bar napkin spread out before him seemed ready to fall apart under the burden of fractured verse and bourbon-soaked tears. Tears shed for The People.

Around Your Trusted Friend hovered his usual security entourage of fourteen roller derby thugs. They rolled toward this deputation of gentlemen with a significance that could not be ignored, and the linoleum floor creaked ominously under 112 dangerous wheels.

With a wave of his hand Your Hero calmed the Paladinas, and they grudgingly made way for the intimidated band of worthies. They approached the table, glancing uncomfortably at the Bar Napkin of Truth spread out on the table before Old Foz.

Their news was not new, nor was their mission unexpected. Mayor Richard M. Daley had finally determined that the City of Chicago was too much for him. The reigns of power had grown warm for the now-old Young Pharaoh, and he was fleeing for greener pastures.

What then, for the The People? Who would lead? Who would assume the mantel, take up the heavy burden, and bring peace and prosperity to a city groaning under The Heel of tyranny? Bloodshot eyes, and heavy, hopeless hearts turned to the one Man who could bring a new dawn. A dawn made hopeful with a glow golden as the bourbon stains on Coleman Brice's table.

Your Pal listened quietly to the humbled representatives of a damaged populace. He thanked them for their trust, and promised a response after mature consideration of his responsibilities, his family, his correspondence, and his art.

Old Foz returned to his bar napkin as the roller girls quickly guided the deputation of noted citizens to the door.

What will be Old Foz's decision? Will he accept nomination and election for Mayor of Chicago? Will The People's pleas bend his heart toward taking up the Great and Grim Responsibility of governance? Is there a bar on the fifth floor of City Hall?

On the answers to these questions the fate of the city depends.

Until that Decision is taken, Your Special Friends in Foz the Hook will continue to shake the world of Cole's every Wednesday night in conjunction with the hottest comics in Chicago at Cole's Comedy Open Mic. Join Adam Burke, Cameron Esposito(!), Mo Welch, Matt Slater, and so many others at Cole's tonight.

Foz the Hook starts the amazing set at 8:45 or 9:00 (depending on The List), and Adam tickles your psyche at 9:15 or 9:30 (depending on The List).

So join us at Cole's tonight.

FtH can neither confirm nor deny at this time, as consistent with our well known, and publicly expressed, policies (and opinions) whether Your Pal Foz will be, or currently is, the mayor of Chicago.

Now let us mix Martinis and drink to the health of The Republic!

Freakshowcase, Babies!

Hey, Freak-kittens! Your Secret Lovers in Foz the Hook want you to know that your desperate pleas for comedy on Labor Day Night are going to be answered.

You knew you were going to BBQ on Labor Day. You knew you were going to sit in the sun with your friends. You knew you were going to drink light beer and play that game where you throw bean bags at a bike ramp with a hole in it. You suspected that the lawn darts game would result in an ambulance ride (and you were right). You knew deep inside that Her Drunk Friend would not go off behind the bushes with you, although what the two of them did do when that Katy Perry song played was pretty awesome.

You knew that the neighbors who hired the Mariachi band would probably have more fun than you did. They always do. You suspected that the pinata you bought at Costco would be filled with off-brand candy that made your kids sick.

You knew that changing from light beer to Vodka Gimlets before Noon would bring up the ceviche you ate for breakfast (along with the chicken wings you found sitting on the counter from last night). And you knew that your friend from college that you rarely see would bring harsh ditch weed that you will smell in the curtains of The Baby's room for weeks. Thank goodness you had the foresight to send the kid to Grandma's.

But after all that, what do you do with your Labor Day evening? You passed out at at 3:00 in the afternoon from the ditch weed, which means you won't be sleeping tonight. Well, come on out to Cole's for Foz the Hook's Monthly Freakshowcase!

The Show starts at 9:00. You know where Cole's is at 2338 N. Milwaukee in Chicago, America. See the Freaks!

See Mo Welch's Barbie-inspired stand-up mania!

See Matt Slater's amazing musical stand-up set!

See Your Favorite Band, FtH play cheerful songs about shame and disgrace!

What a great way to wrap up a long weekend, before you go back to work on Tuesday. Remember to buy new curtains for the Kid's room before Grammy brings her home and smells the overwhelming Harsh in the nursery.

You knew all along it would work out like that.

So What is a Band Anyway?

Sit down and put on your smoking jackets, gents. Perhaps the ladies wish to mix themselves drinks and join us in the lounge for a philosophical discussion on the nature of music theory and practice.

Now, we all know that Foz the Hook's Monthly Freakshowcase scheduled for Labor Day will be so mind-blowingly amusing that the possibility of the audience ending the evening in chastity is just not realistic. Let's face it people, we're all going to get laid. It's in the cards.

What I wish to discuss is the nature of the act that will fill the B-slot on the program. I speak, of course, about Matt Slater and his insertion (see above paragraph) in the evening as a band. We all know that Matt is by nature a comic. He doesn't sing, play an instrument, or spin discs - as far as we know - so how is it that Matt shows up to the gig as a band?

Part of it has to do with the fact that Your Pals in FtH are backing up Matt's act with some music. Patrick, especially, is providing a pounding driving percussive intensity (See Paragraph 2) to Matt's mighty package of jokes. But that's a small part of the deal. Time, of course, is a major element of music, and timing is a major element in comedy. The two concepts are closely related. Old Foz argues that they are the same. There isn't much difference in the sensitivity to time, to silence, and to emotion required of a good musician and a good comic.

To paraphrase Clausewitz "Comedy is music by other means." Matt has a feel for this, and I wager that when he mocks Jamaicans or makes sexual advances upon your mother (spoiler alert!), you will find it all the more amusing for being accompanied by FtH.

So, make plans to join us on Labor Day Night for the debut of Matt Slater's Amazingly Amusing Music Comedy Set. You will also watch Mo Welch rock your world with her fab stand up set. And, of course, Your Sexual Surrogates, Foz the Hook, will rock your evening home with Drunk Astronauts, Gin-Soaked Yankees, Nasty Snowmen, and other cheerful songs about Shame and Disgrace.

Wear clean undies and bring protection, because there will be happy endings for everybody.

Now, let us mix another round and discuss Euclid and Dildos.

I'm Not Blaming You

I'm just saying that these things happen, and it's ok. I know. You went to Cole's last week with the best intentions. You were going to be good. You were going to have one PBR (maybe two), do your thing if you're a comic, and go to bed early.

And then they started buying you drinks. And Travis Bartender is so dashing with that baritone voice of his - "want another?"

"Sure," you said. I've got time.

And then you started in on the Martinis - Vodka Martinis. You knew it was wrong, but everybody was laughing and having such a good time and s/he kept looking your way and smiling and you started to talk with this woman-or-man (because FtH doesn't assume), and you wanted to celebrate the surprise ruling on the Prop 8 thing, even though it doesn't apply to you (because you'll probably never get married at all), and then it all just went fuzzy.

The next thing you remember was the walk of shame through the glaring light of a 90 degree Chicago day, with everybody you saw on the street just staring and judging you - you presumed.

The only advice Your Old Pal Foz has is maybe you don't want to put that on Facebook. Grandma doesn't need to know that. We'll keep it between us.

But now the question before you: do you try it again? Do you risk another disgrace because you know can't control yourself when Cameron Esposito and the comics at Cole's start rattling the rafters? You know you can't make good judgments once Foz the Hook gets your blood up. Do you risk another personal disaster? Twice in two weeks?

OF COURSE YOU DO!!!! It's Wednesday, and that means tonight you will be at Cole's with the contents of your change jar in your pocket laughing your scalp off with the best comics in town! Will Mo Welch be there again? James Fritz? Ryan Walker? Matt Slater? We hope and think so. What we know for sure is that Your Private Confidants, FtH, will be there to wind you up, enable you to make bad decisions, and not judge you about it.

That's Cole's, tonight at 8:45 or 9:00 depending on the list. Be there by 8:30. It goes all night, or until you wake up in a strange apartment. We don't judge.