Firsts are a beautiful thing.

Filled with trepidation (and sometimes trephination) and wonder, they draw you in with that hint of mystery, the unknown, and a touch of danger. Your first kiss. Your first love. Your first car, condom, or high-colonic. Last night was the first time I ever intentionally walked an audience member at a comedy club. It was also the first time I ever had someone try to storm the stage and kick my ass. It was glorious.

I was hosting the showcase last night, and the crowd was good, maybe a little quiet. Things were moving along fine until the 3rd comic, Doug Coover. Doug's doing his set and starts doing this joke about seeing a license plate in Texas that said L-U-V-Y-A-D-U-B-Y-A. I know Doug's act, and the joke never actually insults the President, it's pretty short and sweet, but as soon as he spells "Dubya" some alcohol soaked rag of a human being starts growling at top volume.

"PERFECT!"

"FABULOUS!"

"FANTASTIC!"

Doug tries to ignore it, but this is one asshole that WILL BE HEARD, no matter how much it stinks up the room.

"THE FINEST PRESIDENT WE'VE EVER HAD!"

(generally upset crowd murmer, Doug just rolls his eyes)

"WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME WHY HE'S BAD"

Doug is now trying to just switch to another joke, softly, gently, and comes out and tells the guy, okay you're offended, we'll talk about something else. Meanwhile, two old lesbians in the back start yelling "Why don't YOU tell us why he's good!" Now I roll my eyes.

Doug finally gets into other material, and the guy quiets down, and he finishes his set. But there's a big black @?!@ing cloud hanging over the audience now, and I'm not having it. So, I made a snap decision as I walk onstage to outro Doug and bring up the next comic. I don't want this guy here, I don't want him to get away with overshadowing the show. I decide to pick a fight.

Let me say this first. I don't care who you voted for. I voted for Leonard Peltier, and he's in prison for Chrissake. I don't mind Republicans in the crowd, I'm a comic partly because I got sick of preaching to the converted in political hardcore bands. I don't like looking like a Nazi, and that's how it seems when you make someone leave after they've shouted out their political views. I didn't attack him because he voted for an idiot. I attacked him because he IS an idiot.

I walk onstage, get a round of applause for Doug, look right at the guy and say "Wow, that was awkward." and I just stare. The crowd titters a little bit, and as soon as he starts to speak up I say "Sir, you know he doesn't need you to defend him. He's the PRESIDENT. He's got an Army. The Secret Service. George W. is not sitting on his ranch in Texas going 'Thank God, after all this Iraq and Katrina shit, that some drunk hick in a shithole comedy club in San Francisco is shouting my praise at some poor comic that works for drink tickets and day-old sandwiches.'"

Crowd roars, and he starts to pipe up again, like I'm going to let up.

"I don't care who you voted for, Sir, because the guy you voted for DOESN'T CARE ABOUT YOU. We're here to laugh and escape this bullshit, this isn't some alcoholic rendition of 'Crossfire', it's a comedy club."

More laughing and clapping, he mutters and his friends shut him up. The cloud is still there though. I could have just got on with the show, but I want Victory, not a stalemate. The guy's just going to spout off again, and the crowd seems to love seeing me rip him a new asshole. So I wait until it goes dead silent again, and look him right in the eye.

"Do you fuck up EVERY party that you go to?"

The crowd roars the loudest they have so far and burst into applause. Now he starts yelling.

"Oh yeah, I fuck up everything!"

"That's pretty obvious."

"It ain't easy to fuck up EVERYTHING!"

"Oh yeah it is, I'm an expert on the subject. Come on, look at who you're talking to. I fuck shit up for a living; relationships, apartments, jobs... how the hell do you think I wound up here? We're both assholes, but I'm the professional, and you're just an amateur."

The crowd's going nuts, this is where he gets up.

"Yeah, well... YOU LOSE!"

"I LOSE? Not only did we take your money at the door, but now you're leaving. Not only do I WIN, but so does everybody else IN THIS ROOM!"

Now he's coming at me, his friend is holding him back, you can't understand anything that he's saying at this point. I'm not stopping until he's gone.

"What are you going to do? Storm the stage and kick my ass? I say go for it. That's going to prove exactly how smart you are, beating the shit out of a 95-pound comic. Come on Tex, I've had my ass kicked by cooler people than you. It's your foot in my ass or the door in yours."

His friend and wife are dragging him out now, on top of it, these two BIG lesbians (different ones from the aforementioned) get up to help him on his way. The crowd hasn't stopped laughing this whole time, and as the door closes softly behind him, applause spreads like wildfire.

I introduce the next comic, Charlie Ballard. Charlie is a gay American Indian, and as much cheering had already happened, I don't think anyone was more thankful than Charlie.

First time's don't get any better. I'm not sure if that was a first for Tex, in fact, I kind of doubt it. But I'm pretty sure there was the distinct sound of a psychological hymen ripping as he left the room.