event Cook County Social Club

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.

Few improv troupes in Chicago are as ballsy as Cook County Social Club, which proves that improv's basic rule, "Yes, and…" is all you need for a good show. One of the fivesome throws out a first line for a scene, and the remaining members leap off the back wall, eager to support whatever cockamamie idea was thrown out. There's little hesitation, so the members often find themselves in scenes playing creepy characters or stuck in a physically uncomfortable position for long stretches of time. But the actors sell the hell out of whatever it is they're doing, with an infectious energy that fuels the group's perpetual-motion improv machine.