Liza Treyger warmed up the crowd at this "fancy" theatre by lamenting thin people who dress badly, got distracted by fellow Russian immigrants in the audience who might also be "white trash" and ended her set with a brilliantly racy Holocaust joke before ceding the stage to Kyle Kinane, another comic who doesn't shy away from exploring warm-button topics.
Kinane likes to play up an image as a grumpy curmudgeon, but he's too charming and loveable to sustain that for long. Addressing the last few days he's spent in Toronto, he griped that he's tired of listening to complaints about the city's hot streak; given that Los Angeles literally bursts into flames, he has little patience for our whining about "being a little drippy so close to Halloween."
He admitted that, despite his doom and gloom proclamations, he's not really committed to his belief that the world is coming to an end because he's still recycling and that would be the first thing to go if hope was truly lost. He questioned the health — if not the commitment — of the average "doomsday prepper" and then went on an extended riff about the challenges of being in the Ku Klux Klan, after lamenting that in 2017, their existence has to occupy our mental space.
What started as a dissection of their on-point laundry game led to some hilarious digressions about food options for hardcore racists, and how delicious cuisines could indeed be the answer for bringing cultures together. Kinane is a smart comic who's reputation for edginess is probably overblown but is likely not, as he suggested, proof to his parents that god doesn't exist.
Kinane likes to play up an image as a grumpy curmudgeon, but he's too charming and loveable to sustain that for long. Addressing the last few days he's spent in Toronto, he griped that he's tired of listening to complaints about the city's hot streak; given that Los Angeles literally bursts into flames, he has little patience for our whining about "being a little drippy so close to Halloween."
He admitted that, despite his doom and gloom proclamations, he's not really committed to his belief that the world is coming to an end because he's still recycling and that would be the first thing to go if hope was truly lost. He questioned the health — if not the commitment — of the average "doomsday prepper" and then went on an extended riff about the challenges of being in the Ku Klux Klan, after lamenting that in 2017, their existence has to occupy our mental space.
What started as a dissection of their on-point laundry game led to some hilarious digressions about food options for hardcore racists, and how delicious cuisines could indeed be the answer for bringing cultures together. Kinane is a smart comic who's reputation for edginess is probably overblown but is likely not, as he suggested, proof to his parents that god doesn't exist.