My undergraduate alma mater hosts a yearly offering called "Mr. ECU," in which male competitors vie for cash and prizes by stripping to their undies. One year Barbara, queen of the snobbiest sorority on campus, hailed me at an event the month prior to Mr. ECU. I didn't know Barbara could pick me out of a lineup, much less have any positive reason to address me, so I approached her warily. "You should try out for Mr. ECU!" she announced, her coven of cohorts nodding and beaming in unison. Oh, I don't know, I hedged. Really? Do you think so? At that moment, I felt like the nerd who takes off her birth-control glasses and becomes a supermodel at the end of a high school promedy. "Oh, totally!" she cried. "You'd be hilarious!" Worst of all, I'm not sure she knew how mean it sounded.

I tell that story for two reasons. First, it makes me weep gently in my office, and I needed a good cry. Second, we're about to be visited by a group of guys who must've gone through similar defining debacles. The only difference is these guys turned their public shame baths into lucrative career advice. They call themselves The Comic Strippers, and they hail from Canada, where I hear people are nicer. Nicer, say, than American sorority girls, not that I'm holding a grudge, because that would be ridiculous. I mean seriously, it was more than 20 years ago. I've moved on, Barbara. I'm living life.

While none of the Comic Strippers possess Chris Farley's shirtless je ne sais quoi, it's fair to say they'll never give Magic Mike a run for his sweaty singles. Truth be told, they may not even take off their pants. But once their shirts are off, they'll apply their trained torsos and minds to the sexy art of ... improvisational comedy. The Comic Strippers really are hilarious - by which I mean witty, not that a certain she-jackal would notice, because Barbara "I Graduated With Honors and Married a Rich Car Dealer" was too superficial to understand the attractions of wit or a decent heart. I'm just using her as one example. Of pure, venomous evil.

My point is this show is for women or men, 21 or older, who prefer to laugh at material sweeter than the humiliation of a shy, naïve sophomore. The ideal Comic Stripper audience member wants to dance in the aisles and laugh till it hurts. I'm talking about the good kind of hurt here, people, not the kind that lingers in a man's nightmares for decades; because honestly, if we're so demonic we're unable to show empathy for the kindest, most innocent among us, then what are we? As a species, y'know? Is there even a God? Do you see where I'm going with this? The solution is love, people. Love. Not the kind of cruel Darwinian mockery that some people prefer, then blithely attempt to friend us on Facebook 24 years later as if nothing had even happened. I mean, good luck with that, Barbara. Good luck with that.

THE COMIC STRIPPERS, 8 p.m. Friday, Oct. 10, Rialto Theater, 901 Broadway, Tacoma, $25-$29.50, 253.591.5894