A brief history on slam poetry:

Sometime ago, somewhere, slam poetry was started by some guy.

We know for a fact it was a guy, because really, how many funny women do you know?

Men are the true pioneers of comediology, no matter what Margaret Cho tells you.

Until Patrice O’Neal came along, nobody was applying the ‘hard consonant rule,’ and disgruntled feminists everywhere were still saying ‘Chevrolet’ in their punchlines.

In all seriousness, how many women have used a charming sense of humor to get a guy in bed?

That said, not all slam poetry is comedic, or, for that matter, intended as a humorous or satirical work in tone.

Just ask Joshua Chippendale.

If you look, he’s taking the stage right now at the Queen Anne Coffee House. This is August, for those of you keeping track, and it’s the last Thursday of the month (the 28th), so a cash prize was at stake.

For a purse of three hundred dollars, ‘Kermit is the Devil’ has been mercifully retired.

Into the microphone, Joshua’s saying, “The season premiere was Adam and Eve. Everybody says it was an apple, but I bet you anything it was a tree that grew canned nectarines. Honestly, you can’t get those anywhere.”

He goes, “Just to be a little edgy, the producers had Cain kill his brother by cracking a big rock against his melon. A farmer who gets to boff his sister, a farmer who damns himself for all eternity just because his little brother had a really fat yeanling, probably named Jazaniah or something.” He says, “Six thousand years ago, that was pretty controversial.”

He goes, “You ever wonder what Adam and Eve’s last name was? I like to think it was Vansickle. Mr. Vansickle, would you like to suffer thankless physical labor and sorrow for the remainder of your physical and spiritual existence?”

Into the microphone, Joshua says, “During sweeps-week, the big-wigs came down from the studio to the set and had unprotected coitus with all the big-chested extras. This was before women started using crocodile dung as vaginal suppositories. This one chick named Gedaliah, she ate the seeds of some Queen Anne’s lace to induce a miscarriage. Her cousin gave birth to twenty-four pound baby boy named Azariah. In Hebrew, it probably means ‘offspring of a corporate executive.’ ”

Standing on the center of the stage, Joshua goes, “For the first season finale, the executive producer decided to kill off the entire cast, except the eight people of this one really dysfunctional family. The world hated them, and they were painfully naive. You could really identify.”

Looking out over the crowd, he says, “The next couple of seasons were boring, and the ratings dipped, so the producers put the extended family of the original cast in a cage, just to see if they could get out by using all sorts of special effects and fancy pyrotechnics. The test audiences responded well to a towering pillar of fire, and when the president of the network used that same pillar of fire to give the star of the show the ‘do’s and don’ts’ of quality programming, the numbers climbed a whopping 43%. Sadly, they had to kill off main character.” He adds, “Again.”

Into the microphone, Joshua says, “A lot of demographic data was pulled to show the popularity of senseless bloodbaths. Sure, the staff of writers could’ve taken the high road here and there, but there’s something funny about seventy thousand people being slaughtered like autistic farrow. At least, the show’s creator thinks it’s entertaining.”

Joshua goes, “The next several seasons, we spent developing these little things called ‘civilizations.’ Sometime in 1570 BC, the Egyptians drive out the Hyksos, and establish a New Kingdom, on past the Nile into Nubia. They bury Tutankhamen in the Valley of the Kings, a complex network of tunnels beneath the earth.” He goes, “When I was nine, I owned an ant farm. When the sovereign of that kingdom died, they didn’t bury her in the Valley of the Queens with five thousand pieces of treasure. They ripped her body apart. They ate her pedicel with a cup of honeydew. Her name was Sophia.”

Into the microphone, Joshua says, “These civilizations was to ensure that our show didn’t get canceled, that the lineage of the original cast could be there for the series finale.”

He says, “These people farms, as the executives like to call them, were created so that the audience could study our social behavior. We build our Seven Wonders of the Show, and the network president, he has the Goths raze to the ground our Temple of Artemis in 262 AD. He never has taken too kindly to pagan presidents.”

Looking out over the audience, Joshua goes, “In 1896, the executive producer re-establishes what he had that Theodosius guy abolish waaaay back in 394. Apparently, the whole idea had gotten too AthenWood, and nobody likes mind-numbing re-runs. Nowadays, the javelin throw really is Must-See JT.”

Joshua goes, “Of course, every program has its lows and its peaks. Every drama has moments of comedy, and every comedy has dramatic moments. Eventually, all shows are canceled. Unfortunately, some shows aren’t canceled soon enough. Just look at ER.”

Into the microphone, he says, “So here we are, Season Six. We’ve passed our one hundredth episode, and we’ve resorted to recycling our own original source material. The ratings are plummeting. Nobody wants to tune in to Operation: Global Freedom, and the more we syndicate it, the more we alienate our hard-core fans. Frankly, we’ve already seen it, already heard it.” He goes, “We’re a re-run of a re-run of a re-run.”

Clearing his throat, Joshua says, “We’re all castaways here. We’re all on The Truman Show watching The Truman Show. We’ve all eaten our share of cockroaches and beady-eyed rats and the juicy, swollen testicles of an emasculated bovine. We all want the cash prize of eternal life. We all want to be interviewed by David Letterman and Katie Couric. Nobody wants to be voted off the island.

“Me,” Joshua says. “I’m not another Richard Hatch. I don’t give a beady-eyed rat’s ass if the network producers say I just don’t have the ‘look’ they’re looking for. I refuse to crunch the demographic numbers. I’m not asking for much on this reality TV show of Life. All I want is a little acceptable polymorphism. All I want,” Joshua says, “is an entire cupboard stocked to the brim with canned nectarines.”