This featured blog is from People's Republic of Komedy, formed in 2005 by four comedians, Kevin Hyder, Daniel Carroll, Emmett Montgomery and Scott Moran. This foursome has produced over 130 comedy shows in multiple venues around the Seattle area. Their entertainment has been classified as "alternative" comedy, a format in which comedians are free to experiment with unconventional material.

People's Republic of Komedy will host two showcases daily at Bumbershoot on the Comedy West Stage.

Last week I received a phone call from my ex-girlfriend. She told me she had something to tell me. Then she told me. She was getting married. This induced in me the kind of melancholy that only a phone call from your ex-girlfriend telling you she has something to tell you and then telling you she is getting married can induce. I began cataloging the memories that our four-year relationship produced. This is one of my favorite.

Four years ago some friends of mine opened a tourism attraction in a small town in Alaska. It was a derelict gold dredge (def: a 2000 ton vehicle used for the extraction of gold) that they had brought down from the Yukon Territory, and they asked me to spend the summer developing and giving cruise ship passengers tours of the operation. This being the first year they were open, they had not yet built housing for employees, so they rented a trailer for me to live in, and put it on the property next to the river. I was to spend the summer living in a trailer next to a river and a derelict gold mining operation in Alaska.

Now I'm not White Trash. I have a degree in Philosophy and Theater, and listen to Public Radio. The irony of my situation was not lost on me at all. I embraced my summer-long white trash sojourn wholeheartedly. I cut my hair into a Bob Seger-esque mullet, grew a big bushy beard, and wore nothing but dirty Carhartts, wife beaters, and flannel. They even gave me a beat-up old pickup to drive around. I cooked every meal on a barbecue, and drank canned domestic beer. My adjustment to the lifestyle was comprehensive.

About half-way through the summer my girlfriend came to visit (or my old lady as I took to calling her). I can't say she was impressed by my living conditions, but understood that the whole experience was very "Meta", and so agreed to play along. When I finally got a day off, we decided to spend it in the domestic tranquility that only trailer-dwellers can appreciate. We started barbecuing at noon, which means we started drinking at noon. By seven o'clock she was trashed and I was well on my way. At that point my friend Darryl stopped by to show off his new motorcycle. (While this may seem foreign to the common reader, these are the types of social graces that are commonplace when living in mobile housing.)

We were very impressed with my friend's new purchase, my girlfriend most of all, who insisted on sitting on the thing. In her intoxicated state I could tell this was making Daryl uncomfortable, so I proceeded to try and talk her down.
There is a switch that occurs in drunken people when they realize that they are embarrassing you. Their eyes narrow and they say things like "Oh I'm sorry my sober pants. I thought we were trying to have a good time." Daryl, sensing an altercation, decided to take his leave, which left me alone with an angry girlfriend…in front of my trailer…next to the river and a derelict gold dredge in Alaska.

It started out as yelling. This led to crying and yelling. And then something magical happened. My girlfriend reached into a box and pulled out a full can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. She began throwing full cans of PBR at me as hard as she could. Cans of beer were bouncing of trees and exploding. They were skidding off the ground. I was deflecting them with my hand. At hat moment I had an out of body experience. My spirit rose above me, and I stared in awe at the amazing scene before me. And then my spirit wept, for there were no more White Trash worlds to conquer.

Kevin Hyder