An evening of mock and ahhh

A hurricane is currently attacking Tinseltown, leaving comic chaos in its wicked wake, and its name is Joan Rivers. In “Broke and Alone in L.A.,” rattling the Canon Theatre in Beverly Hills through Saturday, the veteran stand-up offers coruscating proof of her supremacy at scandalous comedy.

Nothing is sacred to Rivers, after surviving her roller-coaster career, and “politically correct” is a term more obscene than any pouring forth from her motor mouth. To call Rivers’ amphetamine-paced work blue would be an understatement; more like filthy cobalt or rude indigo.

One fur pelt adorning her Winona Ryder-acquired gold top is allegedly her late dog Spike, now “Hollywood thin”; the other is supposedly cat. She dismisses Mother Teresa and Princess Diana as “whiners.” Cher, Donatella Versace, Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson are other high-maintenance favorites for Rivers’ target practice.

She goes ballistic over Monica Lewinsky landing a television series, and hyperventilates while recounting daughter Melissa’s foreswearing of a Playboy spread, as “I’m still paying for her wedding!” Money and beauty, aging and bodily functions are paramount themes, along with Rivers’ mantra: “Who cares? I don’t!” And she means it, as in her indescribable mime suggesting that Siegfried and Roy are unspeakably close to their felines.

Rivers gets considerable mileage from cremation, offering a screaming revelation of where late husband Edgar Rosenberg’s ashes wound up. This topic unearths her late mother-in-law, whose cremation Rivers also oversaw. This is notable given that Rivers’ mother-in-law wasn’t deceased at the time.

Mainly avoiding outright political positioning (she’s an equal opportunity offender, after all), Rivers still makes telling points about terrorism, homophobia and gender inequity. Her riskiest move comes near the end, with a jaw-dropping evaluation of Sept. 11 insurance paybacks that elicits stunned silence followed by a torrent of hysteria.

What prevents this from being monstrous is Rivers’ matchless timing and ability to turn the other Botox-laden cheek (her grandchild calls her “Nana Newface”). Mugging and squinting, Rivers takes sinking stock of herself with the same ruthless zeal she uses to decimate Katharine Hepburn’s Parkinson’s wobble or David Guest’s Shirley Temple doll collection.

The warm-up acts include singer-comedian Henry Phillips and doo-wop group Jondo, which consists of of Vincent Coulson, Cary Nash, Bejay Watson and Bryant Woodert. There also is a three-piece band, basically there to provide jokes about unions.

Which brings it back to Rivers, ascending from the ashes of her self-deprecation like a golem made from QVC products, or a postmillennial Jorie Remus. Thus, “Broke and Alone in L.A.” is a kidney-threatening experience, especially if, as the program insert informs, the role of Rivers is played by Andrew Krasny, whoever that might be.

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‘Joan Rivers: Broke and Alone in L.A.’

Where: Canon Theatre, 205 N. Canon Drive, Beverly Hills

When: Today and Saturday, 7 and 9:30 p.m.

Ends: Saturday

Price: $40-$50

Contact: (310) 859-2830, (213) 480-3232

Running time: 1 hour, 30 minutes