Eddie Does Houston

Last evening I remembered why, considering all the traffic, Republicans, and pollution, I live so close to the fourth largest city in the U.S.

Two words: Eddie. Izzard.

I have only recently come around to his comedic stylings and I fell for him instantly. You see, he embodies several of the attributes I most cherish. He's erudite, profane, and gay (maybe not gay, but anyone who refers to himself as an "Executive Transvestite" is a least gayish). Oh, and British.

I was looking forward to seeing him swan onto the stage wearing something glittery and with eyeliner that could be seen even from the cheap seats. But, instead he appeared in jeans, coattails (or as I dream he would say, "a frock coat"), and what appeared to be boots.

If he was pandering to his audience with the boots, I'll give him a pass. But I'm going to have to take issue if he was trying to fit in. I reject this notion that people who live in Texas are these quaint caricatures who drive horses and wear cowboy hats. A place where all the men look like Kinky Friedman and all the women like Mary Kay.

Eddie riffed on Intelligent Design ("I have only two problems with the concept, the first is the 'intelligence' part. The second is the 'design' part"), summed up Darwin's theory of evolution ("Monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey, you!"), and said that if Obama is elected president, then Americans can stop pretending to be Canadian when vacationing in Europe.

My librarian heart beat wildly when, upon failing to recall the Nazi who coined the term dyslexia (because only a Nazi would be sadistic enough to spell the word as such), he reached into his back pocket for his new iPhone and began searching through Wikipedia. I couldn't tear my eyes off him as he made the act of answering a reference question - entertaining.

I would love to go paddle boating over martinis with Eddie, or let him talk me into getting bad highlights. Hell, I'd settle for fetching him cups of Earl Grey or steam ironing his gowns.

In any event, I'll see him the next time he comes to town. Until then- Cheers, mate.