Grandma Lee “Unleashed”

She's a Maxine card they would have to keep behind the counter at Hallmark.

Grandma Lee is a living cartoon with the same appeal as the grumpy greeting card lady. We like the whole idea of her, even if it ends up being funnier than an hour of her jokes.

A generic line like "Some packages can't be stimulated, and that's a (expletive) fact" is just funnier when it comes from an old lady with a bad attitude and a dirty mouth.

The Florida comedian known offstage as Lee Strong is a longtime working comic, but she achieved some celebrity after making last year's Top 10 on "America's Got Talent."

TV audiences rooted for the (now) 76-year-old with the hang-dog face and pageboy bob cut. Paying customers are in for a twist: The first words out of her mouth are a blistering blue streak about all the ways she'd like to do that young feller who opens the show, Carmen Vallone.

A third layer of potential for Grandma is how she blends right in with the slot duffers smoking up the Palace Station nickel machines on a weeknight. She's one of their own. Opening act Vallone stands out in a white tie that shouts, "I'm a comedian." But when he introduces Lee and she rises from the back booth, it's as if she's been hiding in plain sight.

This triple appeal has potential. Grandma seems to be faring better than many a "Talent" alumnus, including the "chicken catcher" singer who defeated her. But it appears her "Unleashed" showcase, at Bonkerz Comedy Club through Sept. 4, might be motivated less by popular demand than a search for any celebrity power in a dour economy, and the wishful thinking of club owner Joe Sanfelippo, who is also her manager.

Lee comes off like a "middle act" pushed into a headlining forum, when 20 or 30 minutes would be plenty. The whole act is sort of like her catchphrase: "I'm just sayin'..." It's OK, but you're not going to buy it on a T-shirt after.

Sitting on a stool with her knees spread wide -- she's wearing jeans, thank God -- Grandma tells us why she doesn't do drugs: "Nobody ever (expletive) asked me." Or how when the "titty fairy" came to her house, she thought the offer was for "zits" and said no thanks. And when her daughter-in-law tells her "76 is the new 66," she responds, " 'Dumbass' is the new 'Stupid.' "

Routines rarely develop beyond one-liners, delivered with wavering energy that makes you miss Rodney Dangerfield's zip. The segues, in which Grandma drops tantalizing tidbits about her previous life, make us think we're moving into more personalized terrain. But no luck. When she starts to talk about "Got Talent," it veers into a riff on Halloween candy.

Grandma will indeed wring laughs out of you, especially with the jokes most authentic to her stage persona. You can picture the crusty ol' gal telling her grandkids there is no Easter bunny, then trying to explain, "People might feel weird bitin' the head off a chocolate Jesus."

But when she reaches the patriotic poem at the finish line, a lot of the crowd might be clapping more for her ability to go the distance. The key to any successful visit to Grandma's house is an exit strategy, before either side burns out on the occasion. It's really no different here.

Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford@
reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.