Andy Kaufman has been dead for 26 years, yet Tony Clifton lives on. The belligerent, pot-bellied lounge entertainer is a persona he crafted with his brother, Michael Kaufman, and fellow comic Bob Zmuda. So in the musical revue The Return of Tony Clifton, at least one of the two survivors will take the stage. (Or possibly both; and you can’t rule out the disinterred corpse, either.) Songs will be sung, drinks will be swilled, fans will be insulted, and scantily clad showgirls (The Cliftonettes) will gyrate to The Katrina Kiss-My-Ass Orchestra. Clifton in his prime had little patience for twee comics and indie navel-gazing (before those terms existed, in fact), and the years haven’t likely mellowed him. Polite he is not. Outspoken he is sure to be. Ladies, if he likes your boobs, he’ll tell ya. Guys, if he hates your mug, you’ll soon hear about it. But this won’t be an evening you’ll forget. T. BOND

Fri., Oct. 8, 7:30 p.m., 2010