The Decree
Nicole M. Riesgo did not inherit South Tucson. She simply started acting like she owned it, and nobody with the energy to argue showed up. What began as a bit is now, functionally, a monarchy — one square mile of desert, a handful of bars that will still have her, and a microphone she refuses to relinquish.
Her comedy is dry, a little feral, and warmer than she'd like you to know. She'll work a room anywhere — car shows, kink cons, universities, comedy clubs, and, on at least one occasion, a prison. She headlines, she features, she hosts, and she co-produces Don't Tell Tucson — the secret-location pop-up shows where the address only arrives once you've committed. If that sounds like a trap, it is. You'll laugh anyway.
She has taken the act to Phoenix, Flagstaff, Los Angeles, Chicago, Atlanta and Savannah, and returned every time, because a duchess never abandons her people — and the rent is cheaper here.
