Good for the Jews Tour Diary

Apollo Creed wants his hat back: San Franciscan nutjob Joe WebbWell, the Nazis have noticed us. Okay, not lots of Nazis, just one. We were finishing a soundcheck for our San Francisco show at the Great American Music Hall, the sixth of thirteen cities on the Good For The Jews national tour, when the lighting guy shouted, "Well boys, you've made the big time. You have a protester outside." We're two guys who sing funny and profane songs about being Jewish. Who would protest that? My family's not impressed, but I don't think they'd follow me to San Francisco and picket.

So we went outside to find a surly, nervous man holding a sign that said "I WANT YOU TO DIE FOR ISRAEL." He'd spelled the S with a swastika. I asked him if he was affiliated with any group. "Yeah," he growled. "I'm a Nazi. And you can publish that." Sure, I knew Nazis existed, but I never expected to see one up close. It was like standing in front of the Great Wall of China, or the Mona Lisa – it's startling, no matter how many times you've seen the image, to confront the real thing, in three dimensions. His sign had small plastic skulls dangling from the top, and he was dressed as Uncle Sam, in a red, white and blue hat, though in truth he looked more like Apollo Creed. He cooperatively posed for pictures, even when I asked him to raise his arm a little higher.

The Nazi identified himself as Joe Webb, a retired corrections officer in his 60s, and he told us he'd been looking for movie listings in the newspaper—he wanted to see No Country For Old Men—when he read an article about Good For The Jews. Since the film would still be playing after we'd left town, he put on his best patriotic costume, Xeroxed some pamphlets and came down to the Tenderloin to protest the worldwide Jewish conspiracy. If there is one, how do I join? I'd like to be staying in nicer hotels. "I bet you'd like to punch me in the face," he said to me. "Yeah, that sounds pretty good," I agreed.

Soon, a squad car pulled up outside the club – summoned by Mr. Webb himself, who insisted the police a) protect his First Amendment right to protest, and b) arrest me for threatening to assault him. The two officers—a woman of color and a man I'm pretty certain was gay—were not sympathetic to his cause.

My friend who grew up in San Francisco, and is the daughter of two Auschwitz survivors, says that when her family went to Jewish events in the early 1970s, there was often a small group of Nazis outside, jeering at the Jews. San Francisco is famous for its permissiveness, so I guess it's a good place for a Nazi to live. The weather's better than Idaho or Montana, and there are lots of freelance Web designers to help you build your white-pride web site.

The Tenderloin is home to every group Nazis revile, and pretty soon, Mr. Webb was being heckled and jeered by blacks, gays, Asians and even a few trannies. Another police car arrived, then a few more, until there were five cruisers with their red lights running. One of the club's security men, a half-black guy in cargo shorts, tossed his cigarette butt into Mr. Webb's burlap bag. By the way, the San Francisco Weekly reported this story on their blog, adding, "Nazis give the best PR."

Not terribly sympathetic: The cops Our Nazi's pamphlet listed sixteen things he'd dubbed "NOT GOOD FOR THE JEWS," beginning with "Jewish behavior" and "Shiksas who figure it out" and moving on to "5 million Palestinians who want their land back" and "Jewish ownership and/or domination of almost all the media." The name of our band, he wrote, typified "the Jewish categorical imperative," as well as Jewish racism. "How is that old Jewish sense of humor doing?" he asked at the end. "Are you laughing yet?"

And no, I wasn't laughing. Any Jew, when confronted with a Nazi, is going to feel a mixture of fear and rage. I was wondering how many other people also thought six million dead Jews wasn't enough. The police insisted he remove the plastic skulls, which kept hitting pedestrians as he marched in front of the building. He tried to pull off the string that attached the skulls to the sign, but couldn't do it. "Officer, can I borrow a knife?" he asked. "Unfortunately, sir, I'm not allowed to hand a weapon to a civilian," the cop said. "Especially not a civilian who's a Nazi," I added.

Right about then, the cigarette butt did its work, and his burlap bag began to smoke. He complained to the officers, emptied his bag onto the cement and began beating the bag to put out the spark. The Jews who'd come outside to gape at him laughed, and then, en massed, we went back inside the club, relieved that this particular Nazi posed no imminent danger. In fact, he'd kind of unified everyone there: As comedians say, our show killed.

Tour scorecard

Cities we've played: Cleveland, Milwaukee, Chicago, Seattle, Portland, Los Angeles, San Francisco

Cities still to come: Denver (The Soiled Dove), Orlando (The Social), Boca Raton (NY Comedy Club), Baltimore (Recher Theater), Washington, D.C. (Birchmere) and New York (Highline Ballroom).

[Read the entire Good for the Jews Tour Diary here.]

Right next to Crackpipe National Park: Richard Bong's namesakeYou might assume that the 454.7 mile drive from Cleveland to Milwaukee is boring. And if, as a result of that assumption, you failed to pay attention, then you would not notice the world’s largest fireworks warehouse in Fremont, Indiana, or the Recreational Vehicle Hall of Fame in nearby Elkhart. And you would completely overlook my favorite Wisconsin landmark, the Bong Recreation Area on Route 94W. We’d like to tour the RV displays, and the Bong seems like a great spot to unwind for a few hours. But David Fagin and I need to move along and make it to Milwaukee for the second night of our thirteen-city Good For The Jews “Putting The Ha! In Hanukkah” tour.

Bill Stace, who runs the Miramar Theatre, a former silent-movie house, tells us the Milwaukee weather has turned “unseasonably cold” today, which sucks, because “seasonably cold” is fucking freezing. Golda Meir grew up in Milwaukee, but at least she had the common sense to leave for somewhere warmer. We draw an even larger crowd here than we did last year, and the Young Jewish Milwaukee Federation has planned their annual “Latke Vodka” event around our show. It’s perfect: The more vodka they drink, the better we sound.

David won’t eat within four hours of a show, which means he always needs a midnight snack. Tonight, after we cruise a downtown that’s overloaded with drunk college kids in t-shirts, he grabs a drive-through McDonald’s feast: two cheeseburgers, small fries, six-piece chicken nuggets.

Then it’s back to our Best Western hotel. Next door, in room 708, there’s a party going on. “What kind of a party is so loud it even keeps a rock band awake?” David grumbles, perhaps dizzy from all the sodium and cow eyelids. Around 2 a.m., through the thin walls, we hear a screech: “I am so drunk!” When we wake up in the morning, I dial room 708. “Urlloh?” a groggy voice stumbles. “Oh! Sorry!” I say. “I must’ve dialed the wrong number!” On our way to the lobby, we pass 708, and I flip their DO NOT DISTURB sign to the PLEASE CLEAN THIS ROOM side. While we’re still at the elevator, a maid uses her pass key to walk in, and we hear confused yelling as the elevator door closes.

Santa's favorite: Sushi on the roadIn Chicago, our car keeps slipping around on black ice, and the weather forecast is for “black fog,” a plague unknown even in the Old Testament. Why can’t Hannukah happen in June? Every station in town is playing Styx songs: Annoying. David knows every word to the Styx songs: Even more annoying.

We’re playing the Double Door, in the Wicker Park area, and our opening act is a local comic, Hannibal Buress, who’s been on the Craig Ferguson Show. Hannibal does a joke about seeing Orthodox Jews for the first time: “I couldn’t believe they weren’t even stopping to say hi to one another. If I saw somebody dressed exactly like me, I’d at least be like, yo, nice hat.” And he talks about a Jewish girl he knows, whose parents disapprove of her being a comedian. “I told her, ‘I know one way you could distract them from that,’” he says. “’Date me.’” Hannibal’s black.

You know what smells really nice? Every place except New York City. Seattle seems like paradise to us: the Triple Door, a gleaming dinner theater, is sold out and we’re fed wonderfully at their Wild Ginger restaurant next door. “I don’t ever want to play in any other club,” David says through a mouthful of sashimi. Fed Ex has misplaced two boxes of merchandise which we’d shipped ahead to Chicago, which means that for four nights we don’t have CDs or t-shirts to sell. But a night like this makes every tour obstacle and boredom seem minor: our improvised bits with the audience work perfectly, my Christian Scientist shtick causes roars and 270 people adore even the stuff we don’t think is so funny. Afterward, a slurry Jewish girl celebrating her birthday makes it clear she’d like to continue to party with us in more intimate circumstances. I give her a chaste kiss and wish her a happy birthday. “Oh,” she frowns. “You’re gay?”

[Read the entire Good for the Jews Tour Diary here.]

Rock-star glamour: Inside the Cleveland Extended Stay Hotel In Cleveland for opening night of the Good For The Jews tour, we check into an Extended Stay Hotel, which we booked through Hotwire for $56 a night. Our room has one queen-sized bed. Switching to a room with twin beds costs us an additional $15 a night. Wi-fi access costs us $5. If we want our room cleaned, that costs $5. Extended Stay seems to be the first a la carte hotel chain. I’m surprised the toilet paper dispenser doesn’t have a coin slot. The next morning, I notice a curly blonde hair on the bar of shower soap, which is weird, because David and I are brunettes.

In the course of the day, we get good news and bad news about the rest of our tour. I have an email from Dave Attell, a fantastic comic, saying he’s free to join the bill for our NYC homecoming show on December 23rd at the Highline Ballroom. But the club we’re playing in Boca Raton, Florida, has decided to not put the name of our band on their outgoing voicemail message, because they’re afraid they “might get some complaints.” Are they worried about a KKK presence in south Florida? No, they’re worried about complaints from other Jews. Jews who are unhappy about a band that’s called “Good For The Jews.”

Would Christian Scientists ever object to a group called Good For The Christian Scientists? Probably not; they’d just look at the name and assume that it was good for them. But Jews are ace complainers. My mother once canceled our temple membership because she didn’t like the lighting.

Our press coverage in Cleveland is three for three, with big writeups and photos in the daily Plain Dealer (“You should be as funny as these Jewish guys”) and the weekly Cleveland Scene (“gut-busting tunes”) and Free Times (“they have their tongues firmly in cheek”). Thank you, Jewish-owned media. Now you can go back to misleading people about those 9/11 attacks!

Coming soon: The marquee in Chicago The Beachland has two rooms: the larger ballroom, where we’re playing, and the smaller tavern, where Jonathon Rice is playing. Rice is a fantastic songwriter signed to Warner Bros., one of the world’s largest entertainment conglomerates. He’s got a celebrity girlfriend and a huge marketing budget behind him. His hotel probably has free wi-fi. But we have something better: a good gimmick. That’s why we’re in the big room, and he’s in the small room. You won’t get far in the music business relying on “talent,” Jonathon.

On the other hand, he doesn’t have to deal with the peculiarities of playing for mostly-Jewish audiences. After the show, while we’re selling merchandise, a fan named Larry says he liked the song “They Tried To Kill Us, We Survived, Let’s Eat,” a deliberately inaccurate retelling of the Exodus story. He asks if we’ve heard of David Nachmanoff, a west-coast songwriter. Apparently, Nachmanoff has a song with the same title. “His is better than yours,” Larry says bluntly. Aw, thanks for that little dig. It’s almost like playing for family.

Tour Scorecard
Shows we’ve played: Cleveland.
Shows still to come: Milwaukee, Chicago, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Denver, Orlando, Boca Raton, Baltimore, D.C., New York.

[Read the entire Good for the Jews Tour Diary here.]

Like Wham! only less British: Good For the JewsFourteen shows and fifteen sets in thirteen cities over eighteen nights. That's the exciting way I'll be spending Hanukkah and Christmas, on tour with my band, Good For The Jews. All thirteen cities have been carefully chosen for their large populations of Jews. Even, in the case of Boca Raton, if those populations are mostly close to death.

By the way, "band" is a grandiose phrase to use here. Good For The Jews is me, Rob Tannenbaum, and David Fagin. We both sing, David plays guitar. (I tried to learn once; I didn't care for the calluses.) I do the P.R., David books the travel; I keep track of the merchandise, David drives. He wears driving gloves in the car and usually drives too fast. When we planned the tour, we budgeted for five speeding tickets.

We are, however, proudly, the greatest Jewish music-comedy duo in the land. For a long time, it was difficult to explain what we do onstage. "You sing? But you also tell jokes?" Yes. So we'd describe ourselves as a cross between Simon & Garfunkel and Martin & Lewis. BLANK STARES. Then we'd say we were like Tenacious D, but thinner and without a movie deal. BLANK STARES. Now, we just say we're like Flight Of The Conchords, but without the cute accents or the HBO deal.

We have songs about the holidays ("It's Good To Be A Jew At Christmas," "They Tried To Kill Us, We Survived, Let's Eat"), songs about visiting the parents ("Going Down To Boca"), songs about being Bar Mitzvahed ("Today I Am A Man"), songs about people we like ("Hot Jewish Chicks") and also people we don't like ("Jews For Jesus").

This tour, these thirteen cities in eighteen days: Okay, it's not Sherman's March to the Sea (which transpired at roughly the same time of year, though Savannah has a nicer climate in December than Milwaukee does), or Stalin's winter offensive (no one will be firing Panzerfausts at us, not even in Milwaukee). But that's a lot of rental cars, a lot of airline connections, many opportunities for things to go wrong. We play L.A. on December 14th (our agent, Morey, says there are many Jews in L.A.), then the next morning we fly to Denver for a show on the 15th. Think there might be some snow on the ground in Colorado, delaying our flight? The risk with rock tours isn't that they turn into This Is Spinal Tap—that would be great. The risk is that they turn into Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

Mosh your pants off: Hanukkah is one of the dancier Jewish holidays Mentioning Spinal Tap reminds me of the scene where Harry Shearer shouts "Hello, Cleveland!" while the band is in Chicago. Funny, because it's true. (Though not as funny as when Tony Hendra, the band's manager, says, "Do you know what I do? I prise the rent out of the local Hebrews." Also true.) We can't be the 800th band to shout "Hello, Cleveland" when the tour starts there on Thursday night. What are the alternatives? "Shalom, Cleveland"? "Hello, Shaker Heights"?

I've got a little O.C.D., so packing for the tour has taken a lot of time: eighteen pairs of boxers, eighteen pairs of socks, some road flares, a tourniquet, warm gloves, a mosquito net, Purell, Iodine tablets, a rectal thermometer, some Mebendazole. Touring means meeting people, and meeting people means germs. Taking $20 bills from them when they gratefully buy your CD. Shaking their hands when they thank you for an amazing 80 minutes of entertainment. Deep-kissing them while they complain about their lousy experiences on J-Date. And germs, of course, mean influenza, which can really spoil a tour.

I realize how many home comforts I'm leaving behind. I'll miss my wi-fi connectivity. I'll miss having the Times delivered every morning. I'll miss my memory foam mattress and contoured pillow. I'll miss my Toto Washlet C100. I'll miss my warm-mist humidifier, which doesn't fit into my carry-on luggage. Life on tour can be very unsatisfying, as anyone who's listened to an Allman Brothers song already knows.

As I await my car service to LaGuardia, I have in mind the words of Leonard Cohen, who said that Jews are "the professionals in suffering." He also wrote these lines: "Is there anything emptier / than the drawer where/ you used to store your opium?" I'm hoping for more opium, less suffering.

List of Tour Dates 12/06, Beachland Ballroom, Cleveland OH 12/08, Miramar Theatre, Milwaukee WI 12/09, Double Door, Chicago IL 12/10, Triple Door, Seattle WA 12/11, Doug Fir Lounge, Portland OR 12/12, Great American Music Hall, San Francisco CA 12/14, Knitting Factory, Los Angeles CA 12/15, Soiled Dove, Denver CO 12/17, The Social, Orlando FL 12/18, New York Comedy Club, Boca Raton, FL 12/20, Recher Theatre, Baltimore MD 12/21, Birchmere Theatre, Washington DC 12/22, Birchmere Theatre 12/23, Highline Ballroom, New York NY

[Read the entire Good for the Jews Tour Diary here.]