Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me!

Bluff The Listener

Our panelists tell three stories about a big change on the dance club scene, only one of which is true.

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CARL KASELL: From NPR and WBEZ Chicago, this is WAIT WAIT...DON'T TELL ME!, the NPR news quiz. I'm Carl Kasell. We're playing this week with Roy Blount Jr., Jessi Klein, and Paula Poundstone. And here again is your host, at the Chase Bank Auditorium in downtown Chicago, Peter Sagal.

(APPLAUSE)

PETER SAGAL, HOST:

Thank you, Carl. Thank you all so much.

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: Right now it's time for the WAIT WAIT...DON'T TELL ME! Bluff the Listener game. Call 1-888-WAIT-WAIT to play our game on air. Hi, you're on WAIT WAIT...DON'T TELL ME!

DEBBIE GILBERT: Hey, this is Debbie Gilbert in Cleveland, Georgia.

SAGAL: Hey, how are things in Cleveland, Georgia?

GILBERT: Well, mountainous.

SAGAL: And what do you do there?

GILBERT: I am a reporter for the local newspaper.

SAGAL: Oh, really? What sort of things do you report on in Cleveland, Georgia? What's going on?

GILBERT: Everything that happens.

PAULA POUNDSTONE: What's the last story that you did?

GILBERT: The last story, oh, gosh, our paper came out today, and I've already forgotten what I wrote.

(LAUGHTER)

(APPLAUSE)

GILBERT: We're busy working on next week already.

SAGAL: I forgot what Carl quoted 20 minutes ago. So believe me, I'm with you. Debbie, it's nice to have you with us. You're going to play our game in which you must try to tell truth from fiction. Carl, what is Debbie's topic?

KASELL: Go Shorty, it's your birthday.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Nightclub culture has changed a lot since the days I used to go to the Copacabana with Truman Capote and Robert Siegel. This week, we read about yet another big change to the club scene. Guess the real dance, dance revolution, you'll win Carl's voice on your home answering machine or voicemail. Ready to play?

GILBERT: Yeah.

SAGAL: First, let's hear from Jessi Klein.

JESSI KLEIN: The modern nightclub was essentially invented by Studio 54, the '70s hotspot where Warhol introduced his factory of beautiful weirdoes and gorgeous young people who could have built ski resorts from the amount of coke they were doing. Flash-forward to 2013, and all the dedicated Studio 54 club-goers are now significantly older. They still want to party, just slower. That's why a Russian entrepreneur has created a nightclub exclusively for them called Studio You Are 54.

(LAUGHTER)

KLEIN: The Studio 54 for when you are 54. And it's being marketed not as a nightclub but as a dayclub because the hours of the new Studio 54 are 1:00 to 7:00 p.m., Mondays and Wednesdays only.

(LAUGHTER)

KLEIN: Beautiful older ladies in the sexiest styles from Tory Burch and Eileen Fisher dance the afternoon away until it's time for the after-after-party, which is actually just a book club.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: The day club in New York for the people who used to go to Studio 54 and are now 54 or even older. Your next story of new life in the club scene comes from Paula Poundstone.

POUNDSTONE: Child experts have long known that babies need held, fed, socialized and to learn through exploration. But Brooklyn's Natalie Elizabeth Weiss has discovered another essential need: DJ skills. At $200 for an eight-week session, the right-thinking parent can provide this developmental building block to their under-three-year-old.

Ms. Weiss teaches them to mix and match tracks by turning knobs and pushing buttons. Despite the obvious dangers of all that drool near electronics, so far it's going well. Weiss doesn't guarantee future employment for her students, but it seems like a slum dunk. Who wouldn't want a two-year-old with a diaper hanging off its butt spinning discs at their high school reunion? I'm going to play an oldie now. Hell, everything's an oldie to me.

(LAUGHTER)

POUNDSTONE: "Good Night Moon," if you don't flip your Cheerios bowl over this next beat, I'm not the hottest baby DJ in Brooklyn, and you know I am. So hug your baby like she's your mama, and get ready to slide your booty across the floor. Hold on, I gotta poop.

(LAUGHTER)

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: Baby DJs being trained in New York. And your last story about a bold innovation in nightlife comes from Roy Blount, Jr.

ROY BLOUNT, JR.: For raving the night away to techno-pop, the go-to drug these days is benzodioxylmethyl-something, popularly known as Molly. But if another oxygen molecule slips into the formula, it becomes benotrioxyl, the accidental offshoot known as O'Molly. Whereas Molly makes you feel all rubbery and ecstatic, O'Molly induces an intense craving for old, weepy Irish ballads.

(LAUGHTER)

JR.: Understandably, O'Molly has caused havoc on club dance floors. When you're flinging yourself around to electro-clash with the laser lights and all, the last thing you want is people standing there glaring at you and singing "Danny Boy."

(LAUGHTER)

JR.: Or worse. According to a study issued this week by the Drug Enforcement Agency, no fatal overdoses of O'Molly have been reported. But in Boston a DJ was beaten up and thrown through a plate glass window for refusing the sample the old standard "My Cheek on Mother's Tattered Shawl."

(LAUGHTER)

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: So one of these is a true story of an innovation coming to a nightclub near you. From Jessi Klein, the day club, a nightclub catering to people who really want to go to bed early. From Paula Poundstone, baby DJs as being trained in New York learning how to switch and play tracks. Or from Roy Blount, Jr., O'Molly, the club drug that makes you want to listen to Irish music and get all weepy. Which of these is the real story of an innovation in night life?

GILBERT: Well, I've been a reporter for about 25 years, and I have a pretty good BS detector, and I think the first one and the third one were fictionalized. I think Paula's is probably the right one.

SAGAL: Really, your journalist nose for the truth has led you to Paula?

(LAUGHTER)

GILBERT: That's what I think.

SAGAL: It's an interesting theory. All right, well, you've chosen Paula's story, which is of the baby DJs. We spoke to the person behind this new trend.

NATALIE ELIZABETH WEISS: It is exciting to teach children how to DJ because their minds are so plastic at that age.

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: That was Natalie Elizabeth Weiss at the Baby DJ School in New York. Congratulations, Debbie, your nose for news did lead you to the truth. It was, in fact, Paula's story that was the real one. She gets a point just for tell you the truth, but you win our prize.

GILBERT: Yay.

SAGAL: Yay, Carl's voice on your voicemail. Thank you so much for playing.

(APPLAUSE)

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