I admit it — this Saturday night wasn’t my night at the Villa Roma in the Catskills, one of the few non-Jewish resorts still left. I was there three weeks ago and killed. Ah, but this wasn’t three weeks ago, was it, Maureen? The show began close to 11pm. In came families with small children, guidos with attitutes, and old people with hearing aids. Short of juggling or breaking out a puppet, there was no way I could please everyone, and I had no desire to please everyone. That is what we call a hack. I did my act. Yes, I cursed in front of the children and told their parents to explain to them that the lady on stage has Tourette’s Syndrome and is a victim. After that one 8-year old boy, at his mother’s urging, kept his hands over his ears for the rest of the show. Why was he there? And why did they sit up front? I love kids, but I think it is so wrong to bring them to a comedy show. Hey, at least he finished eating his ice cream cone before he sat down. This is why I need to get a good manager or agent because I can’t, don’t want to be everything to everyone. I need my own following, people who actually know what shiva and the industrial revolution are. Is that so much to ask for? Let’s make a deal — you keep the kids out of the clubs and I’ll never set foot inside of Chuck E. Cheese.