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23

SATURDAY

Janeane Garofalo has long been the high priestess of anti-comedy, the queen of the hive of buzz-bin comics who replace love-me-please one-liners with couldn’t-care-less jaded observations. To watch her do couch time on Conan or The Daily Show is like eavesdropping on the cool kids in the dorm—all the bored-yet-knowing references, the insider name-checks, the conspiratorial winks. It’s as if she’s saying, “Yeah, I gotta do this stupid TV show, but it’s over at 8 and then we can grab a bite.” In fact, on her HBO special a few years ago, she didn’t even bother to learn her lines. Instead, she kept stopping to check her notebook, planted blatantly on a stool, the only stage decoration. Now, she’s an exceedingly funny person—perceptive, bright, witty. But despite her valiant labors, it’s still called “show” business, and the public really does want some kind of effort made on its behalf. Demand satisfaction at 8 and 11 p.m. at the Warner Theatre, 13th and E Streets NW. $28.50-$33.50. (202)

432-7328. (Dave Nuttycombe)