The Best Lines from The CrabFeast Podcast

Dana Gould’s story was largely a frenetic—dare I say animated?—family history. Gould regaled life in a large family, where his dad skirted county-mandated dry Sundays by tending bar at the local Gun Club (remember the episode of The Simpsons called “Homer the Moe?” That was writer Dana’s little tribute to Daddy Gould).

Apropos of this weekend, Gould recounted a little something he called the Mother's Day Massacre of 1974. Let's just say his brother decked a 19-year-old woman after his father flung the term "sweathog" a little too liberally.

Ian Karmel took the stage second and recounted a weird run-in with a swastika-sporting Subaru driver at a Glendale, Calif., Trader Joe's. Naturally, this led to a tangent where the comics discussed their personal styles of confrontation.

And in the crowd, three hammered CrabFeast fans started loudly considering their own tendencies in a distracting break-off session. When the rest of the audience sent them death glares, the three reciprocated in kind. Their urgent conversation wasn't loud enough to provoke a reaction on stage, but it ran parallel to at least half of the show. It's Portland, though, so no one said a damn thing. We were just relieved when the uncouth group tipped the poor guy who had to mop up their spilled beer. Because of course they spilled their beer.

Dana Gould: I thought, “A band without instruments! This is it! Standup.”

Dana Gould: I think at a certain point, you want to stop being brave, and you want to just go home and be in your PJs.

Ryan Sickler: I call them my “night pants.”

Dana Gould: (after speaking about Star Trek) This line of conversation is the leading cause of vaginal dryness.

Dana Gould: The motto on New Hampshire license plates is “Live Free or Die.” What’s important to remember is, those license plates are made by men in prison.

Dana Gould: Drunk was what adults were...I didn’t grow up in an alcoholic home. I grew up in an alcoholic world.

Dana Gould: I got out of high school and moved as far away as the continent would allow. I’m sort of the Marilyn Munster of the family. I’m the white sheep.

Ian Karmel, photo by Roscoe Myrick