I didn’t abuse drink or any other thing last night, but just seeing Craig Ferguson live made me wake up with a hangover, I swear. Ferguson played the godforsaken Winstar Casino in Thackerville, Oklahoma last evening to a packed crowd. Having been raised in Oklahoma, I was a little twitchy about how Ferguson would go down there. I mean, he doesn’t exactly represent the demographic, but then I guess the casino being on the border, there were at least as many Dallasites as Okies present. Certainly the fellow middle-aged woman sitting to my left who kept leaning over and saying, “I think HE is just CUTE as a BUG” was from Dallas, and she felt like she fit his demographic JUST FINE.
Speaking of bugs, Ferguson told a story from his stoner days about he and his roommate dumping a huge box of cornflakes into a huge bin of a bowl, dumping a quart of milk on them and then both eating out of it together, remarking on how outstandingly delicious it was — until a wasp flew out of the cereal, at which time they went into stoner hysteria shock, left the house and never returned. Reminded me of the time in my hippie days my roommate and I were caretaking a ranch. We stayed up all night most nights watching vintage movies. I got up to go to the restroom, and there was a big black snake covering most of the small bathroom floor. I couldn’t even speak when I came back out into the living room and was gesticulating wildly at my roommate. We never slept well in that house after that night and began sleeping, the both of us, on a smallish antique three-quarter bed with the 125-pound great dane and a pool cue. We would have slept with the rifle, but I had already tried to fire it one night when we had horse rustlers, and it wouldn’t fire.
I was pleased that Ferguson brought Gunter and crew along to open and close the show. The opening was a piper-type Pan number, with Gunter prancing around with a flute and a man miming playing the sax. Craig joined them for a brief introductory dance wearing wife-beater, very thin jeans, and a black leather jacket, his hair tortured into punky disarray. Now, about these jeans. Honestly, I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to pin down the reason for the crotch disarray, and the only adequate answer I can think of, after sleeping on it, and taking into consideration that Ferguson himself said he sometimes felt he had two hamsters following him around, is that these are no longer jeans but are now more closely akin to pajama bottoms, so thin and soft and bunchy are they. If jeans are that comfortable, it’s probably time to buy new ones.
Overall, though, Craig looked, as the lady said, “cute as a bug,” and I couldn’t help noticing that he looks even better on camera than in the flesh (there was a huge screen right in front of me, but I was on third row, so had a great view of the stage as well). I mean, he looks great both ways, but you know how cameras make most people look worse. Well, the camera either loves his face, or maybe there was a little filter on, but if so, I couldn’t tell it.
Fergson commented on Larry King, saying how much he (and everyone) loves Larry, but that he will sit right in front of a guest on national television and fart loudly. Now, I would not believe this if I hadn’t witnessed it for myself a couple of months ago. I noticed that Larry seemed to announce a cut to commercial rather abruptly. After the camera cut but just before the sound did, I heard a loud cracking splutter just as the commercial came on. CNN must love LK very much indeed to keep booking some of the most distinguished guests in the world knowing full well they may be inadvertent targets of his weapon of mass destruction.
After a very funny conversation hour, filled with many and varied F-word combinations and lots of physical moving about the stage, Craig, Gunter and the other guy (black and now donning a blond Elton-John-y wig) end the show with a magnificent musical/dance number, Britny Spears “Oops, I Did it Again,” with Craig himself, of course, taking the female part as if he were born to it. The crowd loved it, but most of them were too old to know the words.
The tickets were old-school priced at $35 for premium seating, I spent $18 at the buffet and had a pretty good chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes, won $2.25 playing Treasures of Troy, and used less than a half tank of gas to get there, and was back home in Dallas by 1 a.m. All in all, a pretty fun night out.