Yeah, me too. You know, you guys know I have a history of UCB, and so I actually wrote a little, I wrote a little memorial for them.

Do you guys want to hear it?

Yeah.

Okay.

What was the upright citizens brigade?

A name that will forever echo through the hallowed halls of comedy alongside other Titans of Improv, like Greg Proops and Big L.

It was also a place, much like Cambodian death camps or the murderous castle of H.H. Holmes were both places. It was a school, a school that

marketed itself as accredited, even after it lost its accreditation in 2017 due to a lack

of handicap accessibility, which is actually, that's something they told me when I worked there.

That is true. But the UCB was more than a name, more than a place, more than a school.

It was a family, a family of weirdos, freaks, rapists, CIA agents, cannibals, and very funny women.

They say improv theaters die twice.

Once, when its blatant mismanagement leads to declining ticket sales, empty classes, and the eventual closure of the theater, and the second time, when somebody speaks its name one final time while describing where exactly they were sexually assaulted.

UCB, the place that, when asked whether or not they are in fact a cabal of satanic pedophiles,

they responded with a hearty, yes and.

Thank you, UCB.

You are already so missed.