This church of ours is open to all. . . . There will be no outcasts,” reads a banner looming over comedian Pat Leborio as he struts onto the stage. He’s in the church hall of St. Clement’s by-the-Sea Episcopal Church in San Clemente, ready to start a set for an audience that seem to be the last people on earth ready to listen to an hour of insults thrown their way: addicts.
Bald head gleaming, faded Dickies shorts reaching down to his calves and wearing a tent-like T-shirt that comfortably covers his 300-plus-pound frame, Leborio nods and smirks. It’s time. His ferret-like eyes, bags underneath bruised so violet it looks as though he hasn’t slept in a week, dart across the audience, looking for someone, anyone to trash. They land on a heavily tattooed man, seated in the second row.
“Whoa, you with the tattoos all over your face,” he snaps at a guy, whom he later learns is named Patrick. “You look pretty menacing; I’m kinda scared. I always wanted to get a tattoo on my neck . . . but I don’t have a neck!”
Our friends at the OC Weekly has the rest of this compelling feature.