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National Features >
Broward-Palm Beach New Times
How a mother of two ended up in a plot to smuggle high-tech gear to the enemy.
By Deirdra Funcheon
Westword
In life and death, tattoo artist Kauri Tiyme made her mark.
By Alan Prendergast
Village Voice
Amy Neustein never could resist going public with her family dramas.
By Elizabeth Dwoskin
Houston Press
A visit with the hurricane victims that a country forgot.
By John Nova Lomax
Brent Weinbach
Published on November 19, 2008 at 3:24am
Brent Weinbach does not laugh at his jokes. In fact, you might not, either. In a steely deadpan, he delivers stories that derive their humor from the narrative and from Weinbach's ability to say things in the most clinical way without so much as smiling. For example, he tells the story of needing to use the restroom while on a long car ride with his sister and grandmother: "An hour later I needed to defecate. Fifteen minutes later, I needed to defecate real bad. I was left with one option: a plastic bag from a grocery store. With my pants pulled down, including my underwear, and my sister helping me hold the plastic bag under my buttocks, about to let loose my masterpiece, my grandmother all of a sudden yells out, 'Wait! That's a good bag! Don't waste it!' But I couldn't wait, and my rectum began to widen." It's humor that's more than a little awkward at times, but if told with crude language and emotion, it would be far less funny.
Nov. 18-22, 8 p.m.; Nov. 21-22, 10:30 p.m., 2008