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Way back in the barren days of ’80s comedy, there was a little film starring Bobcat Goldthwait called Hot to Trot. In the tradition of all great laffers, the flick examines the relationship between a dimwitted boob and a talking horse. The latter gives the former lots of good advice on the stock market and off-track betting. (And yet he failed to advise Goldthwait against showing up on the set. Puzzling.) Initial test screenings of the film were so abysmal that the powers that were demanded a rewrite. Warner Brothers called in Andy Breckman, Monk creator and self-described “crap guy,” to tweak the script. But there was a problem: Production was essentially locked, so Breckman could only rewrite half of the dialogue—the horse’s. Yes, the movie still turned out to be a steaming pile of puckey, but somehow Goldthwait survived and managed to maintain a level of edgy credibility that has eluded such one-dimensional ’80s comics as Howie Mandel, Emo Philips, and Andrew Dice Clay. And who can resist that adorable I-forgot-my-Ritalin vocal delivery? Don’t be a horse’s ass when he performs at 8:30 p.m. (through Sept. 5; see City List for other dates) at the Improv, 1140 Connecticut Ave. NW. $20. (202) 296-7008. (David Dunlap Jr.)