14-Carrot crazy

Wednesday, March 22, 2000 | 9:23 a.m.

Who: Carrot Top.

Where: MGM Grand's Hollywood Theatre.

When: Today through March 29, 9 p.m. (Saturdays at 8 and 10:30 p.m.)

Tickets: $35.

Information: Call 891-7777.

He's the Muppet gone awry, the one Jim Henson would have tossed in a bin labeled "Future Projects."

He (it?) is Carrot Top, the copper-frocked alter-ego of prop comic Scott Thompson. Flying in the face of every "traditional" Las Vegas entertainment institution, he nonetheless has found a regular gig at the MGM Grand's Hollywood Theatre. The frenetic 6-foot, 145-pound visual oddity (Pippi Longstocking after a sex change; Opie Taylor if he were raised in Berkeley) ends his current run March 29.

Putting Thompson's act into mere words is folly. A standard standup comic might tell a joke: "I heard Andre Agassi got divorced from Brooke Shields. The poor guy lost half of everything. I saw him the other day playing tennis with half a racquet."

But in Thompson's manic possession the joke is: "I heard Andre Agassi lost half of everything in his divorce to Brooke Shields," while the wild comic vaults across stage swinging a tennis racquet he's cut in half himself.

"Writing prop jokes is not easy. It's a lot, lot harder than it looks," the 34-year-old Thomspon said. "I have a friend who's a comedy writer, a really good one, who writes jokes for Dennis Miller. I asked him a long time ago to write me some prop jokes.

"I haven't received one yet."

Plucking ideas and comedic styles from inspirations ranging from George Carlin, Steven Wright and Robin Williams to Jonathan Winters and Garry Shandling, Thompson has forged a persona that can appeal to anyone.

Or no one.

"I think there are people who see the first few minutes of my show and know they won't like it," Thompson said. "It's high energy, and if you're looking for a relaxing experience ... I can't help you there."

Benefiting from an tireless imagination fueled by his quart-a-day coffee intake, Thompson happily draws from approximately 200 stage props. The comedy kick-starters are stored in a dozen trunks on stage and Thompson bounds from one to another, seemingly at whim.

"I try to improvise and sometimes it works," Thompson said. "Other times I just say, 'I should stick with the planned stuff.' "

Carrot Top shows are, in large part, "happenings," similar to Gallagher's shows during the peak of his fame. The chief difference is that during the former, audience members are not showered with watermelon chunks or any other food matter. But Thompson's is a rambling, full-force performance of gags and jokes backed by strobe lights and bone-jarring rock 'n' roll.

The show begins with a "bloopers"-type highlight reel that includes several scenes of animals fornicating. A sampling of what follows:

* "I heard Monica Lewinsky is endorsing Jenny Craig now," Thompson says as he holds up a frozen dinner package to be opened by a pants zipper.

* "Here's a great way to guarantee you'll have your own seat on an airplane," Thompson says as he pulls on a backpack housing three baby dolls.

* "Here's how the Amish cook breakfast," Thopmson says, pulling from a trunk a waffle iron affixed with two giant magnifying glasses serving as heating elements.

* Mocking the water show at the Bellagio (Thompson takes particular joy in tweaking the ostentatious hotel), Thompson pulls out a pair of water pistols and squirts each to loud, obnoxious opera music while asking, "They spent $30 million on this?"

* Displaying President Clinton's briefcase, Thompson flings open the lid and unrolls a sleeping bag. He turns the case over to reveal a credit-card scanner.

* As a way of encouraging lazy fathers to transport infants, Thompson builds a baby carriage out of a beer cooler. "Guys will forget a baby, but they'll lug a beer cooler anywhere."

But the show is more than just a rat-a-tat-tat series of toys doubling as jokes. While Thompson has drawn comparisons with such prop practitioners as Gallagher, Rip Taylor and Gary Mule Deer, he strives to insert thoughtful commentary amid the strobe-lit mayhem.

"The difference with me, I think, is I don't do puns," Thompson said. "I won't pull out a sneaker and a horn and say, 'Look at this! It's a dang shoe horn! Haw, haw!' The props complement the original joke, but aren't the whole joke."

On that tack, Thompson can't resist taking a searing shot at the competition when asked "What's the difference between you and Rip Taylor?"

"My hair is real and I like women," he said, laughing. "Oh, that's rotten."

There are moments when Thompson sheds props entirely and gives a sampling of straight stand-up.

"Ever been on a Greyhound bus?" he'll ask. "I was on a Greyhound once and I wanted to call 'America's Most Wanted' and say, 'You can quit looking now! They're all right here!' "

Or, taking a swipe at another favorite target: "You know when you're playing blackjack, what they should call two queens? The Siegfried and Roy hand."

Or, in keeping with his casino theme: "I always wanted to walk into a high-limits baccarat room wearing cutoffs and eating a corn dog, yelling, 'I'm on to you (expletives)!' "

And despite his comic-book appearance, Thompson can explore genuine raunch. His act is peppered with drug references, sex jokes (courtesy of his special "XXX" box) and enough masturbation jokes to border on the unhealthy.

"It's an adult show," Thompson said. "Especially (in Las Vegas). It's not a family type show."

Performing comedy in Las Vegas is unique, Thompson says, for the makeup of its audiences.

"People don't come to Las Vegas to see the entertainer. You're just part of what's going on in a city,' he said. "I'll tell you, there are some crowds in Las Vegas that are depressed because they've lost so much money. It's not like playing in front of a college crowd that has come specifically to see you. There are nights when I'm up there wondering what I'm going to do with my life."

However, Las Vegas does provide a comfort zone (and dependable cash flow) to performers not fond of updating their acts.

"I know one comic, and I'm not going to use his name, who has been doing the exact same act for 10 years," Thompson said. "Honest to God, I saw this guy 10 years ago and he was doing the same jokes. But when you're in Las Vegas, it doesn't matter. People want to see what's familiar, they want to see Gallagher smashing the watermelons or Jeff Foxworthy doing his redneck (stuff)."

But while the framework of Thompson's act remains unchanged, he is constantly tinkering with content.

"I try to keep it somewhat timeless, but there are topical elements to it," Thompson said. "I'm always thinking of how to update the act. Whether it's Clinton or the upcoming election, I'm always thinking of ways to update the show. I'll use a prop that has to do with gas prices and I can do that anywhere. Sometimes I'll do something for a specific audience because, let's face it, what works on a college campus might not work at a casino or a county fair."

By playing everywhere from college gymnasiums to theaters to outdoor amphitheaters, Thompson has noticed a fervent and solid fan base a bit like the merry and addled troupe that once tailed the Grateful Dead.

" 'Carrot Heads'? Yeah, they're out there," Thompson said, laughing. "At the county fair it's corn dogs and Carrot Top."

Thompson draws sellouts in places such as Wilmington, Del., Easton, Pa., Coachella, Calif., and the MGM Grand (fans should note his long-awaited appearance at the Alameda County Fair in Pleasanton, Calif., on July 7), always building his country-wide fan base.

The popularity is largely word-of-mouth. Although Thompson has appeared on "The Late Show With David Letterman," "The Tonight Show," "Politically Incorrect," "The List," "Live With Regis and Kathie Lee" and "The Daily Show," it's his live act that has prompted the loyal support.

"Part of the problem with some of these (TV) shows is, all they want is props. It's props, props, props," Thompson said. "They don't want you to just talk. Or at least they don't want me to just talk. I was out with ('Politically Incorrect' host) Bill Maher once and he said, 'Man, you're really funny.' But you can't get that unless you see the whole show, and that's how I've got a fan base. Kids see me at a college and tell their friends, they come out and it grows from there."

Thompson has not delved into the world of sitcoms, which has so greatly benefited many of his contemporaries. And his lone foray into feature films -- "Chairman of the Board" -- was quickly forgotten.

"They decided to release it the same weekend that 'Titanic' came out," Thompson said. "We did really well -- at the four theaters we were in."

Thompson is still interested in television, but seeks an ideal arena for his unique appeal.

"It all depends," he said. "If I'm surrounded by good people that would be great. But you're screwed if you're not. If you gave me great writers and a great producer, I'm interested, but nobody has come with that idea.

"I enjoy the freedom of doing what I do."

And no one explores that freedom more eagerly than the orange-haired man with his bag of tricks.

archive