COMEDY REVIEW : High Priestess Tenuta Has Flock at Her Feet

SAN DIEGO —  To worship at the Church of Tenuta is to suspend reality and let Judyism into your heart. To accept stud puppets and love slaves. To know life’s givers and takers as identified by Judy Tenuta, the self-proclaimed petite flower, the buffer of foreheads.

Gliding onto the Improv stage Tuesday night with her accordion while an ethereal chorus filled the air, St. Judy projected a visual and forceful presence in a sweeping floor-length, black-and-gold lame cape with gold lame pants and a gold lame headpiece.

“Hi, pigs!” she tauntingly greeted the receptive full house of 250 people, many of whom are loyal disciples who follow orders and recite solemn vows.

“I promise to be Judy’s parent and to sniff her petite feet,” the oath went, as recited by the audience, “. . . and to crush all cows who do not worship Judy.”

Tenuta is not the funniest of comedians, but she has used a wit as piercing as her voice to carve a niche as the self-avowed goddess of gospel, the goddess of love. “I can make mere men put on aprons and can red beets,” she boasted.

In Tenuta’s heaven are the givers. In her hell are the takers. She fries:

* Roseanne Barr’s singing: “I shouldn’t make fun of her. It’s hard to sing through a blowhole.”

* The Pope: “I’m going to let you in on a secret. I’m dating the Pope. But I’m just using him to get to God.”

* Barbara Bush: “You can’t tell me she isn’t a year older than God.”

* A boyfriend’s mother: “Anne of a Thousand Pounds. She was kinda moody. She cut her back shaving. She was getting ready for market.”

Tenuta, punctuating her lines with accordion blasts, often brought her disciples on stage to sing a ditty or when she just needed visual aids for a tune, including the classic “I Want a Love Hog.”

Or when she needed a couple to recite a solemn vow/oath: “We promise to name all our children Judy the Petite Flower.”

Jill and Rose were called upon from the audience to sing and dance in a fertility tune. The stint included dancing in sync a la Supremes, rolling on the stage and singing with feeling.

The followers and devotees did every thing but take out their hymn books.

Tenuta’s voice is constantly changing. It ranges from a throaty South American accent up to a wavering soprano and down to a gravelly bass as she slugs through her material, which surges into the biting and vicious range.

She talked about getting a job at the post office: “I think, therefore, I am over-qualified.”

About Cher: “Tell me she didn’t take singing lessons from Mr. Ed.”

And when the giver/fashion plate says something mean, it wasn’t her fault.

“The goddess did not say that!” she proclaims. “Who possessed me!?!?!” Usually, it was Elvis. But sometimes it was Dr. Ruth or Barbra Streisand.

Tenuta’s religion is not an easy one. (“Yes, you must renounce Marie Osmond.”)

To fully appreciate the goddess of the gospel, you have to believe in her, have an appetite for her style. Some of Tuesday night’s audience looked like they had been abandoned at the altar, unsure where Tenuta was coming from or where she was going.

“Oh, look at this guy,” she said in her finest whine, referring to a bearded customer with a baseball cap in the front row. “You just don’t have any clue what I am, do you? But that’s OK. I like it when guys wear their hormones on the outside.”

In Judyism, the givers are the chosen people. Takers are “anyone who doesn’t give me canned goods.” Takers include Jim Bakker, Nancy Reagan, Dr. Ruth and Barbra Streisand.

When the show was over and the healing had been done, Tenuta--arms outstretched to the admiring flock--walked slowly down the aisle through the adoring fans.

Again, heavenly music fell softly on their ears. The service was over. You may all rise.