In his early twenties he moved to New York, started making bizarre short films and doing stand-up. Mortified, he waited two years and came back with a solid five-minute set. He was seventeen and ran out of material in two minutes. has seen these freaks before armies of them are camped out in his head. The guy owns a camera store and he likes to go home after work, play gypsy music on an old Victrola, and sit his naked ass down in a big metal bowl of ice cream. He watches a nervous, hunched fellow walk past. spots the crazy-eyed dude who tried to hijack the Staten Island Ferry to Bolivia. At the end of the bar is the Jew Wrestler, and over by the door, a couple of guys are having a heated staring contest. Over in the corner, he sees Bill Clinton breast-feeding an armful of puppies. He jots a note, looks around the bar for an idea. He tries not to do anything but new material here, so he needs to frisk his brain for funny things to say onstage. He's not a celebrity, but he is a master, and the comics here know it. Other comics and friends approach the same way. and greets him reverentially, as if he's a guest in C. He dies, and the next comic feeds on his corpse, picks at it, gets more laughs making fun of the guy than the guy got with his own stuff.Īt the bar just outside the packed comedy room, Stewart smokes a cigarette and looks like a man who just went running in the rain. An unknown comic in full-tilt pimp attire gets up and does a long slap-my-bitch routine. Janeane Garofalo does her thing, then Colin Quinn. 'I stopped being funny five minutes ago, thank you very much,' he says, waves to decent applause, and leaves the stage. He's trying out some raunchy bits, mostly making himself laugh. The AC is broken and the smoke hangs in the air. Stewart is relaxed but sweating profusely in the hotbox of a room. They're running an hour late at the Luna Lounge, a downtown bar in New York where comics go on Monday nights to stretch out and try new material. But that battle will have to wait because he's got to get to the club. And the producers, Jesus, don't get him started. turns off the Avid in the editing room and sits for a moment, contemplating the problems with the rough cut. Pootie Tang is the title of the movie, and Louis C. Pootie Tang, unencumbered by an intelligible language. Pootie Tang, role model for the kids, sex symbol to the ladies, crime-fighting superstud to everybody else. Pootie Tang, so cool he makes Shaft look like Gary Coleman.

The camera snap-zooms into his face and he delivers his smoldering promise: 'Baby, I'm gonna sine your pitty on the runny kine.' Pootie Tang is a sleek, crime-fighting superhero with a Jheri-curl ponytail, a magical ass-whipping belt, and a powder-blue vintage Corvette. It is cured with a heat treatment process to ensure the color-fastness and lasting.ON THE SCREEN, Pootie Tang is about to get it on with a special lady friend. It is printed with a water-soluble and eco-friendly ink.

The design is printed with new age printing technology, direct-to-garment. Please take a look on other shirts by click on our brand for saving shipping fee. Racerback Tank: 3.7 oz., 65% polyester, 35% viscose 30 singles Racerback with sheering at seam sideseamed merrowed bottom hem Easy, drapey fit Runs small, order one size up for a fuller fit. Unisex Tanktop: 5.3 oz, 100% cotton preshrunk jersey knit tank top. Unisex Hoodie: 8 oz 50/50 cotton/poly Air jet yarn creates a smooth, low-pill surface. Unisex LS T Shirt: 6.1-ounce, 100% cotton Ash is 99% cotton, 1% poly Sport Grey is 90% cotton, 10% poly Dark Heather is 50% cotton, 50% polyester. Unisex T Shirt: 5.3-ounce, 100% cotton (99/1 cotton/poly (Ash) & 90/10 cotton/poly (Sport Grey). It take 4-6 days to be printed and 5-8 days to be delivered.If you have any question. Our products are printed and shipped from USA.

Sine your pitty on the runny kine