Monologues Monologues Bruce's monologues are legendary. From back in the day with Kids on the Hall to his touring shows and studio albums, the monologue has always been an audience favorite. Here, right now, we present to you, gentle web site surfer person, the monologues... THE SANDWICH PEOPLE It's so sad. People and their sandwiches. You know, people eating their sandwiches in the middle of the day. Looking forward to their sandwiches. It's so sad. They'll be working or doing something stupid, like polishing their furniture and they'll say to themselves, "Oh things aren't so bad. I've got that sandwich to look forward to". They'll talk to someone on the phone and that person will slightly disappoint them is some small way and they'll say to themselves, or worse, to their supervisor as he passes by, "Well at least there's my sandwich." And then around one, sometimes eleven a.m., if it's a particularly sad and slow day, which it usually is for "the sandwich people", they'll open up the fridge or their desk drawer or something - they always open something - and there it is wrapped gloriously in cellophane. The sandwich. The sandwich they've been thinking about when someone complained about the economy. They take little bites of their sandwich and think about little tiny pieces or change that would make them happy. If they could only lose four or five pounds. If someone could be just a little bit nicer to them. If that movie they'd seen the night before had only been slightly better. They don't ask much, the sandwich people ... sad as snake snot. You know the only people sadder than the sandwich people are "the poo people" You know the poo people? Adults who sleep alone every night, but every day you see them in the park with their little three pound dogs. If it were a fish you'd throw it back, but they love it and they walk it. They walk through tiny little parks with a little plastic bag on their hand waiting for their little three pounder to have a little poo. And when he does, they'll pick it up in that little bag. Heat in their hands as if to say "I am alive". The only thing sadder than the poo people are the "happy people". Yes, the happy people are the saddest of all. You know, the happy people? Sitting in their cars smiling at police, paying their bills on time, using bizarre phrases like "Have a nice day", keeping their change in their wallets, happy to be licking a stamp, remembering peoples' birthdays, pleased as punch they didn't get murdered. Sad, sad, sad are the happy people. The only thing sadder than the happy people are the Village People. Yes, the Village People are saddest of all. They are sick of singing YMCA. They've never been to the YMCA. They are sad they ever thought of it. The cowboy doesn't want to be a cowboy anymore. He wants to be a grown up. He's doing a show, thinking to himself "Well, I may be doing bizarre choreographed moves for the delight of tipsy strangers in a town without its own newspaper, but at least I've got that sandwich to look forward to. LOVE A PARADE My parents want me to live in Calgary but I just can't. I love Calgary but I can't live there. I mean I love a parade, but you can't live in a parade, well you can, but only for about three hours at a time and you gotta keep moving your stuff up, and animals shit on your shoes, and people watch you live. Well there is 'the old professional parade circuit,' where a man travels round with his float on his back, a dollar in his shoe and a Tommy Hunter tune in his heart. Well, the old parade circuit is all but dried up now. It gets pretty sparse up at the Kiwanis parade in Carbon Alberta spearheaded by a woman is curlers, behind her-some kids on mustang bikes with foil in their spokes, and pigs and geese dressed up as cute circus acrobats. The oddest parade ever must have been 'condiments on parade.' The parade wasn't big and brassy it just sort of slithered through town, stopping at red lights as they didn't bother to block off traffic. It was mostly older people with their heads hung low. The music came not from a brass band but rather a lone banjo, and when she got tired, the music came from a clock radio. The parade would stop about every 15 minutes and just regroup. The children who lined the streets would look up at their parents as if to ask "am I in the midst of a bad childhood?" The best part of the parade was the sexy sixty year-old women who held out platters of condiments chirping, “condiments on parade" and at that, there would be applause. 'Cause the best things on life ARE free like sunshine and condiments! The end of the parade was relatively spectacular. There was a large coleslaw float from the good people at Semenko's coleslaw warehouse. At Semenko's they knew that people wanted their coleslaw, and they wanted it 'now,' and it had to be good and it had to be green. But that was easy, 'cause at Semenko's, coleslaw was king. The float embodied coleslaw at its proudest. There was a large plaster cabbage through which a stream of white coleslaw juice ran. Women in snazzy light green pant suits and carrots for earrings. floated in the stream as they monk paddled beneath the banner that read ‘a river of goodness, that runs right to your table.'