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One of the most clever songwriters and quick-witted live comedians in the business... with his high speed, low-drag act that constantly changes and evolves, Pat has such strong material and improv skills, no two shows are ever the same... not even close.
seen and heard on last comic standing the howard stern show the bob and tom show schedule get tickets


IMG_0456In honor of Roger Moore, here’s a little story from the mid-eighties.

I had just started dating an attractive DJ from Rock 107 in Scranton, PA named Suzie “Something Italian” (name withheld on account of I don’t want to piss her off) and it was time to meet her parents. They lived in Kingston, PA and I found out their next door neighbor was Russel Bufalino, former head of an Italian crime family. I was hoping there wasn’t any connection.

I walked in their lovely home, was greeted by Suzie, and her Father was seated at the far end of the dinner table, stirring his coffee. The Mom was nowhere to be found. He says, “Sit down.” That was it. I sat down and the kitchen light splashed on me like an interrogation lamp and the Dad was in the dark, just staring at his coffee cup, still stirring. He never looks up. “I hear you’ve been dating my daughter and I wanted to meet you. (long pause) Godwin is an Irish name, right?” That’s correct, sir,” I said. (Strike one) And you’re a singer?” he continued, saying the word “singer” like it was a crime. “Yes”, I said, (strike two). He took a long, dramatic Marlon Brando-like pause and said, “What are you two doing, tonight?” (lingering on the word “doing” like it was a forkful of pasta) I said, “We’re going to see Octopussy,” without thinking how dirty it sounded. (strike three)

He looked up, slowly, like I was a hit man from an opposing family and said, “Octo… pussy? Oc… to… pussy? You’re taking my daughter to a pornographic film?” I said, “No sir, it’s the latest James Bond movie, ‘Octopussy’, and that’s the name of it, I swear. They had a character in one of their other films called, ‘Pussy Galore’. They use the word ‘pussy’ a lot, as a joke, sir.” (every time I say “pussy,” I make it worse) Suzie’s large, intimidating, Italian-American Father is standing now; staring a bullet hole right through me and says, “You mean to tell me the James Bond producers, in their infinite wisdom, decided to name their new movie “Octo… pussy?” Yes, sir,” I said, “The censors missed the boat on that one, eh?”

Luckily, there was a newspaper on the table and I was able to prove it was a Bond film, not a porno, and save myself from being “fish food”. As Suzie and I were leaving, her Father took me aside, gave me $20 and said, “Take her to see anything besides ‘Octo… pussy’.” We rented “The Godfather”.

Author’s note: Never judge a book by it’s Mario Puzo cover. Suzie’s Dad, as it turned out, was a sweetheart, owned a respectable silk flower business and a restaurant. The Mother, on the other hand, was the one who had it in for me; threw a drink in my face at The Crackerbox Palace in Kingston, PA and threatened worse. Long story short, I moved to Tampa.

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