Mike Betancourt Headlines the Fat Cat

It was June 10th, 2011, and the gloomy, late-spring weather had just broken, giving way to hot days and warm summer nights. It was as good a metaphor as any for the flourishing rebirth of comedy going on at The Fat Cat Music House and Lounge in Modesto.

Ryan “Lefty” Anderson has put on great shows at the Fat Cat before, including “If They're Free, I'll Take Two,” with Anthony Krayenhagen, recently written up in this space. If Anderson continues to put together such strong shows, he might just develop a reputation for solid nights of comedy.

The crowd filled up the place early and steadily. Something was in the air that promised more than the usual, and they seemed to feel it was much as I did.

Mr. Anderson hosted the show, and began building the energy level by shaking his ass to “Ice, Ice, Baby,” allowing his gyrations and twitches to lead naturally to a discussion of tweakers and methamphetamine. Whether he's giving comedic life to a tweaker bumming a smoke or tonguing an imaginary anus, “Lefty” is unafraid to act out his bits. His expressive performance got the crowd rolling.

Tommy Fourre was first in the lineup. He wasted no time, with his first bit addressing the turn of phrase: “I was born ready.” It humorously explored the idea of babies emerging fresh from the womb, itching to “do some SHOTS!” Infants were a theme of his several-minute set, including comparing babies to pizzas. If that sounds like a clunky premise, it's only to his credit that he was able to stitch the two disparate ideas together to such an entertaining result.

Jacob Goss was up next, and the Merced comic made his Fat Cat debut with an energetic, quirky performance that briefly played with the format itself. His first words onstage were: “My name's Jacob Goss, this is my first time performing here – how'm I doing so far?” He proceeded to work with topics including the logistics of living with a girlfriend and roommate and why babies are featured on toilet paper packaging. His closer was an aerobic performance, where his depiction of oral sex with a mentholated cough drop built to a screaming crescendo and was a well-paced and thoroughly enjoyable bit. I look forward to more from Jacob Goss.

Charles Scott followed, starting his set by swaying and confidently exposing a healthy gut, “healthy” in the sense that its owner has been well fed for a lengthy period of time. He went on to bust on topics like partying redneck-style, getting too high, and being too fat for a restaurant booth. He finished with a fun and disturbing bit about dating high school-age girls. The crowd was warm, and enjoyed his set.

The show continued to gather momentum, and the following comedian was Fat Cat favorite “El Roberto.” Roberto began by cracking on beautiful women and how long it had been since his last conquest. He continued on, showing a level of comfort on stage that attested to his consistent comedic work ethic.

Mike Betancourt 2.0

Mike Betancourt launched onto the stage to the song "Crazy Bitch" by Buck Cherry, with energy and confidence. He quickly took the crowd's measure, spying one audience member standing a little too close to the stage.  He stepped off the stage and planted a foot on his table, then grabbed the guy's head and started simu-humping his skull, thrusting his pelvis at said head to the music with sexual abandon. This would turn out to be an accurate omen for Betancourt's set, as the cranial rape had only just begun.

Having seen Mr. Betancourt perform several times over the past year or two, I thought I had a good idea of what to expect. It didn't take long to realize that I had underestimated. My dated image of Mike Betancourt was that of a smart, likable comic-suitor who showed up at the audience's door in a plaid shirt and a bow tie, asking if your daughter was home, and: "Gee whillikers, Mrs. Cleaver, don't you look nice today." And the audience was happy, because they knew she would be entertained and returned on-time, hymen intact.

In that Mike's place stood a Mike Betancourt you didn't bring home to mother; one for whom "respect" was just a nifty Aretha Franklin song playing on the radio while he skull-fucked your daughter before looking ol' Dad square in the eye and wiping his dick on Grandma's tablecloth. You get the idea.

After humping the gourd of the nearest patron (my neck still hurts, by the way), Mike turned to acknowledge a female audience member's 40th birthday with a tribute that he described as "part comedy show, part roast:" After mentioning her name and age, he jackknifed into: "so happy birthday, you big-booby bitch! Seriously, she's got huge titties!" He followed this  "compliment's" natural flow by comparing her lady parts to the spitting dinosaur in Jurassic Park. And then to a T-Rex, stomping the stage and squawking a reptilian groan into the microphone, proclaiming in a stage whisper: "Her pussy can't see you if you don't move!"

I guess what I'm saying is that Betancourt's first five minutes onstage blew my hair back. That he managed to raid the place like a pirate and keep the audience with him in a good-natured, party atmosphere was a feat of both will and skill. This is not surprising from a comedian who acquired the nickname “The Bulldozer” in his early days, for his ability to plow forward through a tough crowd and pave a smoother show for those who follow.

I've heard often that a comic should have fun out there on stage, and the audience will sense it. Tonight, the headliner was clearly having a ball, and more than sensing it, the audience was riveted.

Early on, he bantered with a tattoo-necked lesbian and her date in the front row, and followed the comedic trail where it led him. This exchange hilariously led to Mike calling her "him" several times and then to a brilliantly improvised beat-box performance based on the give-and-take. With the energy-level already at party levels, the unexpected jam session caused an atmospheric spike in the room to that place where the performer could do what he liked, and the crowd was all his.

Mike went on to energetically perform material including family members, pets, his former day job at Home Depot and many other topics. Even on its best behavior, the Fat Cat crowd can be a rambunctious bunch, and tonight was no exception. Betancourt's head was on a swivel, as he handled disruptions left, right and center, keeping the show fun but on-track.

"The Bulldozer" closed the show with another beat-box jam that used pieces from the entire show, even including the improvised bits, and wove them into an infectious, musical callback that recapped the high points throughout his set. Betancourt's time ended with thanks and a brief salute to the crowd, so brief that he likely did not see that several members of the audience who stood and applauded in appreciation.

I spoke with Betancourt after the show. While he acknowledged a strong showing, he exhibited humility and a cautious reluctance towards the type of high-fiving, end-zone celebrations that he feels are becoming more prevalent among comics today. "If you are not getting a standing ovation, you're not 'killing.' Comedian Dan Wilson told me that a long time ago. And ever since, I've been working hard and staying humble because of it." When I brought to his attention that more than a handful of the crowd rose to their feet at the end of his set, Betancourt was hesitant to soak up the glory: "Wow, a lower-case 'standing o,' huh?" he laughed. "If it was a bad night or a tough crowd I blame myself,” he continued, ruminating on the night's success. “I give credit to everyone who was at Fat Cat that night. They made me great. I owe that night to them."

Regardless of what made him and the other performers great on this night, great they were. The audience and comedy lovers in the region are lucky to have such talent in their midst.