The Truth About Terry Fator

Censored again!! CURSES!!!

This time, I had a review removed from Yelp!, for “inappropriate” content. Since the bulk of my many reviews on that site contain equally “inappropriate content” (so much so that they elevated me to Elite status), I’m guessing some redneck idiot Terry Fator fan couldn’t handle my telling the truth about that smarmy, pandering hillbilly and his joyless, tired shtick.

Well, the truth can’t be kept down forever! NOW IT CAN BE TOLD! I am hereby starting a new feature on wonderhussy.com: “BANNED FROM YELP!” Here’s the first installment.

Review of “Terry Fator & His Cast of Thousands”

I had little interest in seeing Terry Fator, though his big fat smarmy redneck mug has been leering at me from local billboards for years. Ventriloquism? Puh-leaze! I’m *WAY* too highbrow for that.

Then he dumped his wife to shack up with his 20-year-old assistant. NOW I wanna see his show — I gotta see the Hawaiian ho-bag that broke up a God-fearing, Jebus-lovin,’ cancer-kid-tribute-song-writin’ all-American-hero’s 20 year marriage! That must be SOME gash!

A friend got free tickets, so I went to check it out for shits and giggles. I wasn’t expecting much, but I should have been warned by the fact that I had two extra tickets, and I couldn’t even GIVE them away. I approached several people on the Strip on my way to the show: “Hey, would you like some free Terry Fator tickets?” “Terry WHO?”

My bad; I should have known better to approach anyone younger than 95 or with more than 4 teeth in their mouth. Because that’s the only people who dig his lame, white-bread, borderline-racist, sexist, homophobic, obscenely pandering shtick. Seriously; I looked around the theater when I got there, and it looked like a trailer park church social in Rustbucket, USA. Depresssssssssing!

Terry himself is a great ventriloquist, but his puppets and shtick are SO lame and tired that it’s not even fun to get drunk and laugh at. His puppets cover every stereotype known to Flyover Country: the funny fag, the jiving Nigra, the horny old woman, the slutty young homewrecking assistant — oh wait, that wasn’t a puppet, that was his WIFE! Who, incidentally, is built like a brick shithouse, and whose apparent purpose in the show is to wear a succession of slutty costumes and be leered at by Terry.

Each puppet was onstage for about 5 minutes of shtick, which consists of singing along to a live band. The fag sings fag songs, the Nigra sings Nigra music, the horny old lady sings horny old lady songs. The Hawaiian hoochie doesn’t sing (or speak a single word, for that matter) — it’s too hard to sing with a mouth full of cock.

Apropos of NOTHING, Terry takes two breaks from his racist/sexist/homophobic shtick: “I’d like to be serious for a moment, folks.” UH-OH!!!

The first time Terry gets serious, it’s to sing a self-penned piece of uber-schlock called “Horses in Heaven,” all about Little Timmy the Cancer Kid. All Little Timmy wants to know is if there are horses in heaven, presumably so that when he dies, he can suck horsecock for the rest of all eternity under the watchful eye of Jebus.

The second time Terry gets serious is when he asks all the “folks” (I hate that word, it’s a Flyover Country Alert signal) in the audience who have “served our country” to stand up and be applauded. All the poor old WWII vets in the room creak to a semi-erect position: Yaaaaaay! God Bless Amurrica! Thank you for giving up years of your life to serve your corporate masters! So glad you escaped being blown to smithereens so that you could be here tonight in Vegas, listening to this racist, sexist, homophobic pabulum! I KNEW WE FOUGHT THOSE WARS FOR A REASON!

But aside from those two brief intermissions, it’s non-stop yuks. When Terry’s not onstage, this funny wacky Nigra kid comes out and does funny Nigra dancin’ to keep the audience from nodding off. THAT’s the kind of show this is.

In sum: if some random bitch comes at you on the Las Vegas Strip, trying to pawn off two free tickets to see Terry Fator….

…RUN!!!

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About wonderhussy

I am a foul-mouthed, flat-chested bon vivant and adventuress who likes to curse, drink, smoke and run around nude, and I refuse to kow-tow to the bourgeois moral code of the day. I’ve lived in Vegas over ten years, and have a few stories to tell. I roll around town in a truck stocked with a Breathalyzer and a swizzle stick, a spare pair of panties and two stun guns. Don’t fuck with me!
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8 Responses to The Truth About Terry Fator

  1. Gregg in NoVA says:

    Yeah…I can see why it got censored. Thanks for putting it here, though!

  2. ricky says:

    I didn’t see him as racist/sexist so much as harmless. But if you think Fator is racist, what does that make Jeff Dunham?

  3. Sherri says:

    There aren’t even words to describe how much I love you and this post.

    I went to his show about a month ago, and ended up sitting beside some VERY enthusiastic Terry Fator fans. Singing, clapping, dancing in their seats enthusiastic. I wanted to kill myself before the show even started.

    The dancing DJ, or whatever that guy was, was mildly amusing. I especially enjoyed the Peanuts dance he did.

    The DJ left and Terry hit the stage. ZZZ. Sure, he’s talented enough as a ventriloquist—his lips don’t move, but his throat sure does—but good lord, the man is a terrible ‘comedian’. Every bit is so tired and predictable. I was literally lying back in my seat and staring at the ceiling for a good portion of the show.

    But then, ladies and gentlemen, Horses in Heaven. That song is comedic gold. Just the shift in mood is priceless. People are dancing and clapping, and they’re throwing balloons around… so let’s completely kill the vibe by talking about some asshole kid with cancer. I was vibrating so hard from trying to stifle my laughter.

    Same thing happened with that ‘wrap ourselves in the flag and fellate the troops’ bullshit he pulled later. It’s so fake and obviously tacked on to show what a patriotic good guy Terry Fator is. Fuck off.

    And the old, white, Two and a Half Men-watching audience just ate that shit up. It’s so depressing.

  4. Pingback: STREET CARNAGE » DONNY & MARIE: BETTER THAN PROZAC

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