Harvey’s Comedy Club (436 NW 6th Ave., 241-0338, harveyscomedyclub.com) has no problem dating itself. If it did, the owners would’ve taken down the multiple autographed photos of Pauly Shore, the poster advertising a holiday show hosted by “Rowdy” Roddy Piper and the headshots of goofy-looking white dudes whose standup career was retired alongside mullets and suspenders. Before the Portland comedy boom, Harvey’s was the only laugh factory in town. Instead of adjusting to the shifting landscape—with showcases popping up at every bar and a hip competitor, Helium, opening in 2010—the club apparently decided to freeze time. But on a recent Wednesday night, a decent-sized crowd—a mix of middle-aged couples and PSU students who haven’t yet traveled to the east side—paid $15 to guffaw at a guy beatboxing sex noises. And y’know what? It was a relief. It wasn’t edgy, it wasn’t “alt.” After seeing too many comics mumble about abortion and mistake being awkward for an actual act, hearing a professionally delivered bit about energy drinks becomes a simple pleasure. When everyone’s trying to be punk, it’s nice to hear a solid bar band kick out “Slow Ride” once in a while—or, in the case of Harvey’s, a guy who looks like your dad make jokes about his ass hair.